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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by 
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pagan Passions
+
+Author: Gordon Randall Garrett
+        Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+Illustrator: Robert Stanley
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PASSIONS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Geoffrey Kidd, Stephen Blundell
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Cover Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+                             PAGAN PASSIONS
+
+                         Adult Science Fiction,
+              with the supernatural making complete sense.
+
+The Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece and Rome had returned to
+Earth--with all their awesome powers intact, and Earth was transformed
+almost overnight. War on any scale was outlawed, along with
+boom-and-bust economic cycles, and prudery--no change was more startling
+than the face of New York, where, for instance, the Empire State
+Building became the Tower of Zeus!
+
+In this totally altered world, William Forrester was an acolyte of
+Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, and therefore a teacher, in this case of a
+totally altered history--and Maya Wilson, girl student, evidently had a
+totally altered way of grading in mind--but what else would a worshipper
+of Venus, Goddess of Love, have in mind?
+
+This was just the first of the many Trials of Forrester, every bit as
+mighty and perilous as the Labors of Hercules. In love with Gerda Symes,
+like him a devotee of Athena, like him a frequenter of the great Temple
+of Pallas Athena (formerly known as the 42nd Street Library)--dedicated,
+in short, to the pleasures of the mind--Forrester was under the soft,
+compelling pressure of soft, compelling devotees of Venus, Bacchus and
+the like, and in need of all the strength that he and his Goddess, the
+beautiful and intellectual Athena, could muster to save him from the
+endless temptations of this new Earth.
+
+And into this sensuous strife strode Temple Myrmidons--religious cops
+sworn to obey orders without question or hesitation--with a pickup order
+for William Forrester.
+
+Where he was taken, what happened to him, the truly fantastic
+discoveries he made about himself and the Gods and Goddesses--here are
+the ingredients that make up this science fiction novel of suspense,
+intrigue, mystery and danger. For science fiction it is, with the
+supernatural making complete sense, and fun too, despite the Sword of
+Damocles hanging by a thread over Forrester's head!
+
+                         _by Randall Garrett and
+                             Larry M. Harris_
+
+
+
+
+ P
+ a
+ g
+ a
+ n
+
+  P
+  a
+  s
+  s
+  i
+  o
+  n
+  s
+
+
+
+
+ A GALAXY Selected Novel
+ For
+ BEACON BOOKS
+
+
+
+
+ P
+ a
+ g
+ a
+ n
+
+  P
+  a
+  s
+  s
+  i
+  o
+  n
+  s
+
+   _By
+   Randall Garrett
+   and
+   Larry M. Harris_
+
+   _Published by
+   Galaxy Publishing Corp.
+   New York 14, New York_
+
+
+
+
+ ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK ARE WHOLLY
+ FICTITIOUS AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO PERSONS
+ LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL
+
+ Copyright 1959 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.
+
+ _Galaxy Novels_ are sturdy, inexpensive editions of choice
+ works of imaginative suspense, both original and reprint,
+ selected by the editors of _Galaxy Magazine_ for Beacon Books.
+
+ THIS IS BEACON BOOK NO. 263
+
+ _Cover by Robert Stanley_
+
+ Printed in the U.S.A. by
+ THE GUINN COMPANY INC.
+ New York 14, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
+on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors
+have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+
+The girl came toward him across the silent room. She was young. She was
+beautiful. Her red hair curled like a flame round her eager,
+heart-shaped face. Her arms reached for him. Her hands touched him. Her
+eyes were alive with the light of pure love. I am yours, the eyes kept
+saying. Do with me as you will.
+
+Forrester watched the eyes with a kind of fascination.
+
+Now the girl's mouth opened, the lips parted slightly, and her husky
+voice murmured softly: "Take me. Take me."
+
+Forrester blinked and stepped back.
+
+"My God," he said. "This is ridiculous."
+
+The girl pressed herself against him. The sensation was, Forrester
+thought with a kind of awe, undeniably pleasant. He tried to remember
+the girl's name, and couldn't. She wriggled slightly and her arms went
+up around him. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck and her mouth
+moved, close to his ear.
+
+"Please," she whispered. "I want you...."
+
+Forrester felt his head swimming. He opened his mouth but nothing
+whatever came out. He shut his mouth and tried to think what to do with
+his hands. They were hanging foolishly at his sides. The girl came even
+closer, something Forrester would have thought impossible.
+
+Time stopped. Forrester swam in a pink haze of sensations. Only one
+small corner of his brain refused to lose itself in the magnificence of
+the moment. In that corner, Forrester felt feverishly uncomfortable. He
+tried again to remember the girl's name, and failed again. Of course,
+there was really no reason why he should have known the name. It was,
+after all, only the first day of class.
+
+"Please," he said valiantly. "Miss--"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"I'm Maya Wilson," the girl said in his ear. "I'm in your class, Mr.
+Forrester. Introductory World History." She bit his ear gently.
+Forrester jumped.
+
+None of the textbooks of propriety he had ever seen seemed to cover the
+situation he found himself in. What did one do when assaulted
+(pleasantly, to be sure, but assault was assault) by a lovely girl who
+happened to be one of your freshman students? She had called him Mr.
+Forrester. That was right and proper, even if it was a little silly. But
+what should he call her? Miss Wilson?
+
+That didn't sound right at all. But, for other reasons, Maya sounded
+even worse.
+
+The girl said: "Please," and added to the force of the word with another
+little wriggle against Forrester. It solved his problems. There was now
+only one thing to do, and he did it.
+
+He broke away, found himself on the other side of his desk, looking
+across at an eager, wet-lipped freshman student.
+
+"Well," he said. There was a lone little bead of sweat trickling down
+his forehead, across his frontal ridge and down one cheek. He ignored it
+bravely, trying to think what to do next. "Well," he repeated at last,
+in what he hoped was a gentle and fatherly tone. "Well, well, well,
+well, well." It didn't seem to have any effect. Perhaps, he thought, an
+attempt to put things back on the teacher-student level might have
+better results. "You wanted me to see you?" he said in a grave,
+scholarly tone. Then, gulping briefly, he amended it in a voice that had
+suddenly grown an octave: "You wanted to see me? I mean, you--"
+
+"Oh," Maya Wilson said. "Oh, my goodness, _yes_, Mr. Forrester!"
+
+She made a sudden sensuous motion that looked to Forrester as if she had
+suddenly abolished bones. But it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. Quite
+the contrary.
+
+Forrester licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "Well," he
+said. "What about, Miss--uh--Miss Wilson?"
+
+"Please call me Maya, Mr. Forrester. And I'll call you--" There was a
+second of hesitation. "Mr. Forrester," Maya said plaintively, "what is
+your first name?"
+
+"First name?" Forrester tried to think of his first name. "You want to
+know my first name?"
+
+"Well," Maya said, "I want to call you something. Because after all--"
+She looked as if she were going to leap over the desk.
+
+"You may call me," Forrester said, grasping at his sanity, "Mr.
+Forrester."
+
+Maya sidled around the desk quietly. "Mr. Forrester," she said, reaching
+for him, "I wanted to talk to you about the Introductory World History
+course."
+
+Forrester shivered as if someone had thrown cold water on his rising
+aspirations.
+
+"Oh," he said.
+
+"That's right," Maya whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear again.
+Other parts of her were close to other parts of him once more. Forrester
+found it difficult to concentrate.
+
+"I've _got_ to pass the course, Mr. Forrester," Maya whispered. "I've
+just _got_ to."
+
+Somehow, Forrester retained just enough control of his faculties to
+remember the standard answer to protestations like that one. "Well, I'm
+sure you will," he said in what he hoped was a calm, hearty, hopeful
+voice. He was reasonably sure it wasn't any of those, and even surer
+that it wasn't all three. "You seem like a--like a fairly intelligent
+young lady," he finished lamely.
+
+"Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure I won't be able to remember all those
+old-fashioned dates and things. Never. Never." Suddenly she pressed
+herself wildly against him, throwing him slightly off balance. Locked
+together, the couple reeled against the desk. Forrester felt it digging
+into the small of his back. "I'll do anything to pass the course, Mr.
+Forrester!" she vowed. "Anything!"
+
+The insistent pressure of the desk top robbed the moment of some of its
+natural splendor. Forrester disengaged himself gently and slid a little
+out of the way. "Now, now," he said, moving rapidly across the room
+toward a blank wall. "This sort of thing isn't usually done, Maya. I
+mean, Miss Wilson. I mean--"
+
+"But--"
+
+"People just don't do such things," Forrester said sternly. He thought
+of escaping through the door, but the picture that arose immediately in
+his mind dissuaded him. He saw Maya pursuing him passionately through
+the halls while admiring students and faculty stared after them.
+"Anyhow," he added as an afterthought, "not at the _beginning_ of the
+semester."
+
+"Oh," Maya said. She was advancing on him slowly. "You mean, I ought to
+see if I can pass the course on my own first, and _then_--"
+
+"Not at all," Forrester cut in.
+
+Maya sniffed sadly. "Oh, you just don't understand," she said. "You're
+an Athenian, aren't you?"
+
+"Athenan," Forrester said automatically. It was a correction he found
+himself called upon to make ten or twelve times a week. "An Athenian is
+a resident of Athens, while an Athenan is a worshipper of the Goddess
+Athena. We--"
+
+"I understand," Maya said. "I suppose it's like us. We don't like to be
+called Aphrodisiacs, you know. We prefer Venerans."
+
+She was leaning across the desk. Forrester, though he supposed some
+people might be fussy about it, could see no objection whatever to the
+term Aphrodisiacs. A wild thought dealing with Spheres of Influence
+strayed into his mind, and he suppressed it firmly.
+
+The girl was a Veneran. A worshipper of Venus, Goddess of Love.
+
+Her choice of religion, he thought, was unusually appropriate.
+
+And as for his....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+
+It was hard to believe that, only an hour or so before, he had been
+peaceful and calm, entirely occupied with his duties in the great Temple
+of Pallas Athena. His mind gave a sudden, panic-stricken leap and he was
+back there again, standing at the rear of the vast room and focusing all
+of his strained attention on it.
+
+The glowing embers in the golden incense tripods were dying now, but the
+heavy clouds of frankincense, still tingled with the sweet aroma of
+balsam and clove, hung heavily in the quiet air over the main altar. In
+the flickering illumination of the gas sconces around the walls, the
+figures on the great tapestries seemed to move with a subtle life of
+their own.
+
+Even though the great brazen gong had sounded for the last time twenty
+minutes before, marking the end of the service, there were still a few
+worshippers in the pews, seated with heads bowed in prayer to the
+Goddess. Forrester considered them carefully: average-looking people, a
+sprinkling of youngsters, and in the far corner a girl who looked just a
+little like ...
+
+Forrester peered more closely. It wasn't just a slight resemblance; the
+girl really seemed to be Gerda Symes. Her long blonde hair shone in the
+dimness. Forrester couldn't see her very clearly, but his imagination
+was working overtime. Her magnificently curved figure, her wonderful
+face, her fiery personality were as much a part of his dreams as the bed
+he slept on.
+
+If not for her brother ...
+
+Forrester sighed and forced himself to return his attention to his
+duties. His hands remained clasped reverently at his breast. Whatever
+battle went on in his mind, the remaining few people in the great room
+would see nothing but what was fitting. At any rate, he told himself, he
+made rather an imposing sight in his robes, and, with a stirring of
+vanity which he prayed Athena to chasten, he was rather proud of it.
+
+He was a fairly tall man, just a shade under six feet, but his slight
+paunch made him seem shorter than he was. His face was round and smooth
+and pleasant, and that made him look younger than he was: twenty-one
+instead of twenty-seven. As befitted an acolyte of the Goddess of
+Wisdom, his dark, curly hair was cut rather long. When he bowed to a
+departing worshipper, lowering his head in graceful acknowledgment of
+their deferential nods, he felt that he made a striking and commanding
+picture.
+
+Though, of course, the worshippers weren't doing him any honor. That bow
+was not for him, but directed toward the Owl, the symbol of the Goddess
+embroidered on the breast of the white tunic. As an acolyte, after all,
+he rated just barely above a layman; he had no powers whatever.
+
+Athena knew that, naturally. But somehow it was a little difficult to
+get it through his own doubtless too-thick skull. He'd often dreamed of
+power. Being a priest or a priestess, for instance--now that meant
+something. At least people paid attention to you if you were a member of
+the hierarchy, favored of the Gods. But, Forrester knew, there was no
+chance of that any more. Either you were picked before you were
+twenty-one, or you weren't picked at all, and that was all there was to
+it. In spite of his looks, Forrester was six years past the limit.
+
+And so he'd become an acolyte. Sometimes he wondered how much of that
+had been an honest desire to serve Athena, and how much a sop to his
+worldly vanity. Certainly a college history instructor had enough to do,
+without adding the unpaid religious services of an acolyte to his work.
+
+But these were thoughts unworthy of his position. They reminded him of
+his own childhood, when he had dreamed of becoming one of the Lesser
+Gods, or even Zeus himself! Zeus had provided the best answer to those
+dreams, Forrester knew. "Now I am a man," Zeus had said, "and I put away
+childish things."
+
+Well, Forrester considered, it behooved him to put away childish things,
+too. A mere vanity, a mere love of spectacle, was unworthy of the
+Goddess he served. And his costume and bearing certainly hadn't got him
+very far with Gerda.
+
+He tore his eyes away from her again, and sighed.
+
+Before he could bring his mind back to Athena, there was an
+interruption.
+
+Another white-clad acolyte moved out of the shadows to his right and
+came softly toward him. "Forrester?" he whispered.
+
+Forrester turned, recognizing young Bates, a chinless boy of perhaps
+twenty-two, with the wide, innocent eyes of the born fanatic. But it
+didn't become a servant of Athena to think ill of her other servants,
+Forrester reminded himself. Brushing the possibility of a rude reply
+from his mind, Forrester said simply: "Yes? What is it?"
+
+"There's a couple of Temple Myrmidons to see you outside," Bates
+whispered. "I'll take over your post."
+
+Forrester responded with no more than a simple nod, as if the occurrence
+were one that happened every day. But it was not only the thought of
+leaving Gerda that moved him. As he turned and strode to the small door
+that led to the side room off the main auditorium, he was thinking
+furiously under his calm exterior.
+
+Temple Myrmidons! What could they want with him? As an acolyte, he was
+at least immune to arrest by the civil police, and even the Temple
+Myrmidons had no right to take him into custody without a warrant from
+the Pontifex himself.
+
+But such a warrant was a serious affair. What had he done wrong?
+
+He tried to think of some cause for an arrest. Blasphemy? Sacrilege? But
+he found nothing except his interior thoughts. And those, he told
+himself with a blaze of anger fierce enough to surprise him, were
+nobody's business but his own and Athena's. Authorities either less
+personal or more temporal had no business dealing with thoughts.
+
+Beyond those, there wasn't a thing. No irreverence toward any of the
+Gods, in his private life, his religious functions or his teaching
+position, at least as far as he could recall. The Gods knew that
+unorthodoxy in an Introductory History course, for instance, was not
+only unwise but damned difficult.
+
+Of course, he was aware of the real position of the Gods. They weren't
+omnipotent. Their place in the scheme of things was high, but they were
+certainly not equal with the One who had created the Universe and the
+Gods themselves in the first place. Possibly, Forrester had always
+thought, they could be equated with the indefinite "angels" of the
+religions that had been popular during his grandfather's time, sixty
+years ago, before the return of the Gods. But that was an uncertain
+theological notion, and Forrester was quite ready to abandon it in the
+face of good argument to the contrary.
+
+Whatever they were, the Gods were certainly the Gods of Earth now.
+
+The Omnipotent Creator had evidently left it for them to run, while he
+went about his own mysterious business, far from the understanding or
+the lives of men. The Gods, omnipotent or not, ran the world and
+everything in it.
+
+And if, like Forrester, you knew that omnipotence wasn't their strong
+point, you just didn't mention it. It would have been impolite to have
+done so--like talking about sight to a blind man. And "impolite" was not
+the only word that covered the case. The Gods had enough power, as
+everyone knew, to avenge any blasphemies against them. And careless
+mention of limitations on their power would surely be construed as
+blasphemy, true or not.
+
+Forrester had never even thought of doing such a thing.
+
+So what, he thought, did the Temple Myrmidons want with him?
+
+He came to the anteroom and went in, seeing the two of them at once.
+They were big, burly chaps with hard faces, and the pistols that were
+holstered at their sides looked completely unnecessary. Forrester took a
+deep breath and went a step forward. There he stopped, staring.
+
+The Myrmidons were strangers to him--and now he understood why. Neither
+was wearing the shoulder-patch Owl of Minerva/Athena. Both proudly
+sported the Thunderbolt of Zeus/Jupiter, the All-Father himself.
+
+_Whatever it is_, Forrester told himself with a sinking sensation, _it's
+serious_.
+
+One of the Myrmidons looked him up and down in a casual,
+half-contemptuous way. "You're William Forrester?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said, knowing that he looked quite calm, and
+wondering, at the same time, whether or not he would live out the next
+few minutes. The Myrmidons of Zeus/Jupiter didn't come around to other
+temples on unimportant errands. "May I help you?" he went on, feeling
+foolish.
+
+"Let's see your ID card, please," the Myrmidon said in the same tone as
+before. That puzzled Forrester. He doubted whether examination of
+credentials was a part of the routine preceding arrest--or execution,
+for that matter. The usual procedure was, and probably always had been,
+to act first and apologize later, if at all.
+
+Maybe whatever he'd done had been so important they couldn't afford to
+make mistakes.
+
+But did the Myrmidon really think that an imposter could parade around
+in an acolyte's tunic in the very Temple of Pallas Athena without being
+caught by one of the Athenan Myrmidons, or some other acolyte or priest?
+
+Maybe a thing like that could happen in one of the other Temples,
+Forrester thought. But here at Pallas Athena people took the Goddess's
+attribute of wisdom seriously. What the Dionysians might do, he
+reflected, was impossible to say. Or, for that matter, the Venerans.
+
+But he produced his identity card and handed it to the Myrmidon. It was
+compared with a card the Myrmidon dug out of his pouch, and the
+thumbprints on both cards were examined side by side.
+
+After a while, Forrester got his card back.
+
+The Myrmidon said: "We--" and began to cough.
+
+His companion came over to slap him on the back with bone-crushing
+blows. Forrester watched without changing expression.
+
+Some seconds passed.
+
+Then the Myrmidon choked, swallowed, straightened and said, his face
+purple: "All this incense. Not like what we've got over at the
+All-Father's Temple. Enough to choke a man to death."
+
+Forrester murmured politely.
+
+"Back to business--right?" He favored Forrester with a rather
+savage-looking smile, and Forrester allowed his own lips to curve gently
+and respectfully upward.
+
+It didn't look as if he _were_ going to be killed, after all.
+
+"Important instructions for you," the Myrmidon said. "From the Pontifex
+Maximus. And not to be repeated to any mortal--understand?"
+
+Forrester nodded.
+
+"And that means _any_ mortal," the Myrmidon said. "Girl friend, wife--or
+don't you Athenans go in for that sort of thing? Now, up at the
+All-Father's Temple, we--"
+
+His companion gave him a sharp dig in the ribs.
+
+"Oh," the Myrmidon said. "Sure. Well. Instructions not to be repeated.
+Right?"
+
+"Right," Forrester said.
+
+Instructions? From the Pontifex Maximus? _Secret_ instructions?
+
+Forrester's mind spun dizzily. This was no arrest. This was something
+very special and unique. He tried once more to imagine what it was going
+to be, and gave it up in wonder.
+
+The Myrmidon produced another card from his pouch. There was nothing on
+it but the golden Thunderbolt of the All-Father--but that was quite
+enough.
+
+Forrester accepted the card dumbly.
+
+"You will report to the Tower of Zeus at eighteen hundred hours
+exactly," the Myrmidon said. "Got that?"
+
+"You mean today?" Forrester said, and cursed himself for sounding
+stupid. But the Myrmidon appeared not to have noticed.
+
+"Today, sure," he said. "Eighteen hundred. Just present this card."
+
+He stepped back, obviously getting ready to leave. Forrester watched him
+for one long second, and then burst out: "What do I do after that?"
+
+"Just be a good boy. Do what you're told. Ask no questions. It's better
+that way."
+
+Forrester thought of six separate replies and settled on a seventh. "All
+right," he said.
+
+"And remember," the Myrmidon said, at the outside door, "don't mention
+this to anyone. _Not anyone!_"
+
+The door banged shut.
+
+Forrester found himself staring at the card he held. He put it away in
+his case, alongside the ID card. Then, dazed, he went on back to the
+acolyte's sacristy, took off his white tunic and put on his street
+clothes.
+
+What did they want with him at the Tower of Zeus? It didn't really sound
+like an arrest. If it had been that, the Myrmidons themselves would have
+taken him.
+
+So what did the Pontifex Maximus want with William Forrester?
+
+He spent some time considering it, and then, taking a deep breath, he
+forced it out of his mind. He would know at eighteen hundred, and such
+were the ways of the Gods that he would not know one second before.
+
+So there was no point in worrying about it, he told himself. He almost
+made himself believe it.
+
+But wiping speculation out of his mind left an unwelcome and uneasy
+vacancy. Forrester replaced it with thought of the morning's service in
+the Temple. Such devotion was probably valuable, anyhow, in a spiritual
+sense. It brought him closer to the Gods....
+
+The Gods he wanted desperately to be like.
+
+That, he told himself sharply, was foolishness of the most senseless
+kind.
+
+He blinked it away.
+
+The Goddess Athena had appeared herself at the service--sufficient
+reason for thinking of it now. The statuesquely beautiful Goddess with
+her severely swept-back blonde hair and her deep gray eyes was the
+embodiment of the wisdom and strength for which her worshippers
+especially prayed. Her beauty was almost unworldly, impossible of
+existence in a world which contained mortals.
+
+She reminded Forrester, ever so slightly (and, of course, in a reverent
+way), of Gerda Symes.
+
+There seemed to be a great many forbidden thoughts floating around this
+day. Resolutely, Forrester went back to thinking about the morning's
+service.
+
+The Goddess had appeared only long enough to impart her blessing, but
+her calm, beautifully controlled contralto voice had brought a sense of
+peace to everyone in the auditorium. To be doggedly practical, there was
+no way of knowing whether the Goddess's presence was an appearance--in
+person, or an "appearance" by Divine Vision. But that really didn't
+matter. The effect was always just the same.
+
+Forrester went on out the front portals of the Temple of Wisdom and down
+the long, wide steps onto Fifth Avenue. He paid homage with a passing
+glance to the great Owls flanking the entrance. Symbolic of Athena, they
+had replaced the stone lions which had formerly stood there.
+
+The street was busy with hurrying crowds, enlivened here and there by
+Temple Myrmidons--from the All-Father, from Bacchus, from Venus--even
+one from Pallas Athena herself, a broad-beamed swaggerer whom Forrester
+knew and disliked. The man came striding up the steps, greeted Forrester
+with a bare nod, and disappeared at top speed into the Temple.
+
+Forrester sighed and glanced south, down toward 34th Street, where the
+huge Tower of Zeus, a hundred and four stories high, loomed over all the
+other buildings in the city.
+
+At eighteen hundred he would be in that tower--for what purpose, he had
+no idea.
+
+Well, that was in the future, and he ...
+
+A voice said: "Well! Hello, Bill!"
+
+Forrester turned, knowing exactly what to expect, and disliking it in
+advance. The bluff over-heartiness of the voice was matched by the gross
+and hairy figure that confronted him. In some disarray, and managing to
+look as if he needed simultaneously a bath, a shave, a disinfecting and
+a purgative, the figure approached Forrester with a rolling walk that
+was too flat-footed for anything except an elephant.
+
+"How's the Owl-boy today?" said the voice, and the body stuck out a
+flabby, hairy white hand.
+
+Forrester winced. "I'm fine," he said evenly. "And how's the
+winebibber?"
+
+"Good for you," the figure said. "A little wine for your Stomach's sake,
+as good old Bacchus always says. Only we make it a lot, eh?" He winked
+and nudged Forrester in the ribs.
+
+"Sure, sure," Forrester said. He wished desperately that he could take
+the gross fool and tear him into tastefully arranged pieces. But there
+was always Gerda. And since this particular idiot happened to be her
+younger brother, Ed Symes, anything in the nature of violence was
+unthinkable.
+
+Gerda's opinion of her brother was touching, reverent, and--Forrester
+thought savagely--not in the least borne out by any discoverable facts.
+
+And a worshipper of Bacchus! Not that Forrester had anything against the
+orgiastic rites indulged in by the Dionysians, the Panites, the
+Apollones or even the worst and wildest of them all, the Venerans. If
+that was how the Gods wanted to be worshipped, then that was how they
+should be worshipped.
+
+And, as a matter of fact, it sounded like fun--if, Forrester considered,
+entirely too public for his taste.
+
+If he preferred the quieter rites of Athena, or of Juno, Diana or
+Ceres--and even Ceresians became a little wild during the spring
+fertility rites, especially in the country, where the farmers depended
+on her for successful crops--well, that was no more than a personal
+preference.
+
+But the idea of Ed Symes involved in a Bacchic orgy was just a little
+too much for the normal mind, or the normal stomach.
+
+"Hey," Ed said suddenly. "Where's Gerda? Still in the Temple?"
+
+"I didn't see her," Forrester said. There _had_ been a woman who'd
+looked like her. But that hadn't been Gerda. _She'd_ have waited for him
+here.
+
+And--
+
+"Funny," Ed said.
+
+"Why?" Forrester said. "I didn't see her. I don't think she attended the
+service this morning, that's all."
+
+He wanted very badly to hit Symes. Just once. But he knew he couldn't.
+
+First of all, there was Gerda. And then, as an acolyte, he was
+proscribed by law from brawling. No one would hit an acolyte; and if the
+acolyte were built like Forrester, striking another man might be the
+equivalent of murder. One good blow from Forrester's fist might break
+the average man's jaw.
+
+That was, he discovered, a surprisingly pleasant thought. But he made
+himself keep still as the fat fool went on.
+
+"Funny she didn't attend," Symes said. "But maybe she's gotten wise to
+herself. There was a celebration up at the Temple of Pan in Central
+Park, starting at midnight, and going on through the morning. Spring
+Rites. Maybe she went there."
+
+"I doubt it," Forrester said instantly. "That's hardly her type of
+worship."
+
+"Isn't it?" Symes said.
+
+"It doesn't fit her. That kind of--"
+
+"I know. Gerda's like you. A little stuffy."
+
+"It's not being stuffy," Forrester started to explain. "It's--"
+
+"Sure," Symes said. "Only she's not as much of a prude as you are. I
+couldn't stand her if she were."
+
+"On the other hand, she's not a--"
+
+"Not an Owl-boy of Owl-boys like you."
+
+"Not a drunken blockhead," Forrester finished triumphantly. "At least
+she's got a decent respect for wisdom and learning."
+
+Symes stepped back, a movement for which Forrester felt grateful. No
+matter how far away Ed Symes was, he was still too close.
+
+"Who you calling a blockhead, buster?" Symes said. His eyes narrowed to
+piggish little slits.
+
+Forrester took a deep breath and reminded himself not to hit the other
+man. "You," he said, almost mildly. "If brains were radium, you couldn't
+make a flicker on a scintillation counter."
+
+It was just a little doubtful that Symes understood the insult. But he
+obviously knew it had been one. His face changed color to a kind of
+grayish purple, and his hands clenched slowly at his sides. Forrester
+stood watching him quietly.
+
+Symes made a sound like _Rrr_ and took a breath. "If you weren't an
+acolyte, I'd take a poke at you just to see you bounce."
+
+"Sure you would," Forrester agreed politely.
+
+Symes went _Rrr_ again and there was a longer silence. Then he said:
+"Not that I'd hit you anyhow, buster. It'd go against my grain. Not the
+acolyte business--if you didn't look so much like Bacchus, I'd take the
+chance."
+
+Forrester's jaw ached. In a second he realized why; he was clenching his
+teeth tightly. Perhaps it was true that he did look a little like
+Bacchus, but not enough for Ed Symes to kid about it.
+
+Symes grinned at him. Symes undoubtedly thought the grin gave him a
+pleasant and carefree expression. It didn't. "Suppose I go have a look
+for Gerda myself," he said casually, heading up the stairs toward the
+temple entrance. "After all, you're so busy looking at books, you might
+have missed her."
+
+And what, Forrester asked himself, was the answer to that--except a
+punch in the mouth?
+
+It really didn't matter, anyhow. Symes was on his way into the temple,
+and Forrester could just ignore him.
+
+But, damn it, why did he let the young idiot get his goat that way?
+Didn't he have enough self-control just to ignore Symes and his oafish
+insults?
+
+Forrester supposed sadly that he didn't. Oh, well, it just made another
+quality he had to pray to Athena for.
+
+Then he glanced at his wristwatch and stopped thinking about Symes
+entirely.
+
+It was twelve-forty-five. He had to be at work at thirteen hundred.
+
+Still angry, underneath the sudden need for speed, he turned and
+sprinted toward the subway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And thus," Forrester said tiredly, "having attempted to make himself
+the equal of the Gods, Man was given a punishment befitting such
+arrogance." He paused and took a breath, surveying the twenty-odd
+students in the classroom (and some, he told himself wryly, _very_ odd)
+with a sort of benign boredom.
+
+History I, Introductory Survey of World History, was a simple enough
+course to teach, but its very simplicity was its undoing, Forrester
+thought. The deadly dullness of the day-after-day routine was enough to
+wear out the strongest soul.
+
+Freshmen, too, seemed to get stupider every year. Certainly, when _he'd_
+been seventeen, he'd been different altogether. Studious, earnest,
+questioning ...
+
+Then he stopped himself and grinned. He'd probably seemed even worse to
+his own instructors.
+
+Where had he been? Slowly, he picked up the thread. There was a young
+blonde girl watching him eagerly from a front seat. What was her name?
+Forrester tried to recall it and couldn't. Well, this was only the first
+day of term. He'd get to know them all soon enough--well enough,
+anyhow, to dislike most of them.
+
+But the eager expression on the girl's face unnerved him a little. The
+rest of the class wasn't paying anything like such strict attention. As
+a matter of fact, Forrester suspected two young boys in the back of
+being in a trance.
+
+Well, he could stop that. But ...
+
+She was really quite attractive, Forrester told himself. Of course, she
+was nothing but a fresh, pretty, eager seventeen-year-old, with a figure
+that ...
+
+She was, Forrester reminded himself sternly, a student.
+
+And he was supposed to be an instructor.
+
+He cleared his throat. "Man went hog-wild with his new-found freedom
+from divine guidance," he said. "Woman did, too, as a matter of fact."
+
+Now what unholy devil had made him say that? It wasn't a part of the
+normal lecture for first day of the new term. It was--well, it was
+just a little risqué for students. Some of their parents might complain,
+and ...
+
+But the girl in the front row was smiling appreciatively. _I wonder what
+she's doing in an Introductory course_, Forrester thought, leaping with
+no evidence at all to the conclusion that the girl's mind was much too
+fine and educated to be subjected to the general run of classes.
+_Private tutoring_ ... he began, and then cut himself off sharply, found
+his place in the lecture again and went on:
+
+"When the Gods decided to sit back and observe for a few thousand years,
+they allowed Man to go his merry way, just to teach him a lesson."
+
+The boys in the back of the room were definitely in a trance.
+
+Forrester sighed. "And the inevitable happened," he said. "From the
+eighth century B.C., Old Style, until the year 1971 A.D., Old Style,
+Man's lot went from bad to worse. Without the Gods to guide him he bred
+bigger and bigger wars and greater and greater empires--beginning with
+the conquests of the mad Alexander of Macedonia and culminating in the
+opposing Soviet and American Spheres of Influence during the last
+century."
+
+Spheres of Influence....
+
+Forrester's gaze fell on the blonde girl again. She certainly had a
+well-developed figure. And she did seem so eager and attentive. He
+smiled at her tentatively. She smiled back.
+
+"Urg ..." he said aloud.
+
+The class didn't seem to notice. That, Forrester told himself sourly,
+was probably because they weren't listening.
+
+He swallowed, wrenched his gaze from the girl, and said: "The
+Soviet-American standoff--for that is what it was--would most probably
+have resulted in the destruction of the human race." It had no effect on
+the class. The destruction of the human race interested nobody.
+"However," Forrester said gamely, "this form of insanity was too much
+for the Gods to allow. They therefore--"
+
+The bell rang, signifying the end of the period. Forrester didn't know
+whether to feel relieved or annoyed.
+
+"All right," he said. "That's all for today. Your first assignment will
+be to read and carefully study Chapters One and Two of the textbook."
+
+Silence gave way to a clatter of noise as the students began to file
+out. Forrester saw the front-row blonde rise slowly and gracefully. Any
+doubts he might have entertained (that is, he told himself wryly, any
+_entertaining_ doubts) about her figure were resolved magnificently. He
+felt a little sweat on the palm of his hands, told himself that he was
+being silly, and then answered himself that the hell he was.
+
+The blonde gave him a slow, sweet smile. The smile promised a good deal
+more than Forrester thought likely of fulfillment.
+
+He smiled back.
+
+It would have been impolite, he assured himself, not to have done so.
+
+The girl left the room, and a remaining crowd of students hurried out
+after her. The crowd included two blinking boys, awakened by the bell
+from what had certainly been a trance. Forrester made a mental note to
+inquire after their records and to speak with the boys himself when he
+got the chance.
+
+No sense in disturbing a whole class to discipline them.
+
+He stacked his papers carefully, taking a good long time about it in
+order to relax himself and let his palms dry. His mind drifted back to
+the blonde, and he reined it in with an effort and let it go exploring
+again on safer ground. The class itself ... actually, he thought, he
+rather liked teaching. In spite of the petty irritations that came from
+driving necessary knowledge into the heads of stubbornly unwilling
+students, it was a satisfying and important job. And, of course, it was
+an honor to hold the position he did. Ever since it had been revealed
+that the goddess Columbia was another manifestation of Pallas Athena
+herself, the University had grown tremendously in stature.
+
+And after all ...
+
+Whistling faintly behind his teeth, Forrester zipped up his filled
+briefcase and went out into the hall. He ignored the masses of students
+swirling back and forth in the corridors, and, finding a stairway, went
+up to his second-floor office.
+
+He fumbled for his key, found it, and opened the ground-glass door.
+
+Then, stepping in, he came to a full stop.
+
+The girl had been waiting for him--Maya Wilson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now here she was, talking about the Goddess of Love. Forrester
+gulped.
+
+"Anyhow," he said at random, "I'm an Athenan." He remembered that he had
+already said that. Did it matter? "But what does all this have to do
+with your passing, or not passing, the course?" he went on.
+
+"Oh," Maya said. "Well, I prayed to Aphrodite for help in passing the
+course. And the Temple Priestess told me I'd have to make a sacrifice to
+the Goddess. In a way."
+
+"A sacrifice?" Forrester gulped. "You mean--"
+
+"Not the First Sacrifice," she laughed. "That was done with solemn
+ceremonies when I was seventeen."
+
+"Now, wait a minute--"
+
+"Please," Maya said. "Won't you listen to me?"
+
+Forrester looked at her limpid blue eyes and her lovely face. "Sure.
+Sorry."
+
+"Well, then, it's like this. If a person loves a subject, it's that much
+easier to understand it. And the Goddess has promised me that if I love
+the instructor, I'll love the subject. It's like sympathetic
+magic--see?"
+
+Her explanation was so brisk and simple that Forrester recoiled. "Hold
+on," he said. "Just hold your horses. Do you mean you're in love with
+me?"
+
+Maya smiled. "I think so," she said, and very suddenly she was on
+Forrester's side of the desk, pressing up against him. Her hand caressed
+the back of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. "Kiss me and
+let's find out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+Resistance, such as it was, crumbled in a hurry. Forrester complied with
+fervor. An endless time went by, punctuated only by short breaths
+between the kisses. Forrester's hands began to rove.
+
+So did Maya's.
+
+She began to unbutton his shirt.
+
+Not to be outdone, his own fingers got busy with buttons, zippers, hooks
+and the other temporary fastenings with which female clothing is
+encumbered. He was swimming in a red sea of passion and the Egyptians
+were nowhere in sight. Absently, he got an arm out of his shirt, and at
+the same time somehow managed to undo the final button of a series.
+Maya's blouse fell free.
+
+Forrester felt like stout Cortez.
+
+He pulled the girl to him, feeling the surprisingly cool touch of her
+flesh against his. Under the blouse and skirt, he was discovering, she
+wore very little, and that was just as well; nagging thoughts about the
+doubtful privacy of his office were beginning to assail him.
+
+Nevertheless, he persevered. Maya was as eager as he had ever dreamed of
+being, and their embrace reached a height of passion and began to climb
+and climb to hitherto unknown peaks of sensation.
+
+Forrester was busy for some time discovering things he had never known,
+and a lot of things he had known before, but never so well. Every motion
+was met with a reaction that was more than equal and opposite, every
+sensation unlocked the doors to whole galleries of new sensations.
+Higher and higher went his emotional thermometer, higher and higher and
+higher and higher and ...
+
+Very suddenly, he discovered how to breathe again, and it was over.
+
+"My goodness," Maya said after a brief resting spell. "I suppose I
+_must_ love you for sure. My _good_ness!"
+
+"Sure," Forrester said. "And now--if you'll pardon the indelicacy and
+hand me my pants--" he found he was still puffing a little and paused
+until he could go on--"I've got an appointment I simply can't afford to
+miss."
+
+"Oh, all right," Maya said. "But Mr. Forrester--"
+
+He rolled over and looked at her while he began dressing. "I suppose it
+would be all right if you called me Bill," he said carefully.
+
+"In class, too?"
+
+Forrester shook his head. "No," he said. "Not in class."
+
+"But what I wanted to ask--"
+
+"Yes?" Forrester said.
+
+"Mr.--Bill--do you think I'll pass Introductory World History?"
+
+Forrester considered that question. There was certainly a wide variety
+of answers he could construct. When he had finished buttoning his shirt
+he had decided on one.
+
+"I don't see why not," he said, "so long as you complete your
+assignments regularly."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nearly two hours later, feeling somewhat light-headed but otherwise in
+perfectly magnificent fettle, Forrester found himself on the downtown
+subway. He'd showered and changed and he was whistling a gay little tune
+as he checked his watch.
+
+The time was five minutes to five. He had just over an hour before he
+was due to appear at the Tower of Zeus All-Father, but it was better to
+be a few minutes early than even a single second late.
+
+The train ride was a little bumpy, but Forrester didn't really mind. He
+was pretty well past being irritated by anything. Nevertheless, he was
+speculating with just a faint unease as to what the Pontifex Maximus
+wanted with him. What was in store for him at the strange appointment?
+
+And why all the secrecy?
+
+His brooding was interrupted right away. At 100th Street, a bearded old
+man got on and sat down next to him. He nudged Forrester in the ribs and
+muttered: "Look at that now, Daddy-O. Look at that."
+
+"What?" Forrester said, constrained into conversation.
+
+"Damn subways, that's what," the old man said. "Worse every year.
+Bumpier and slower and worse. Just look around, Daddy-O. Look around."
+
+"I wouldn't quite say--" Forrester began, but the old man gave him
+another dig in the ribs and cut in:
+
+"Wouldn't say, wouldn't say," he muttered. "Listen, man, there ain't
+been an improvement in years. You realize that?"
+
+"Well, I--"
+
+"No progress, man, not in more than half a century. Listen, when I was a
+teen king--War Councilor for the Boppers, I was, and let me tell you
+that was big time, Daddy-O--when I was a teen king, we were going
+places. Going places for real. Mars. Venus. We were going to have
+spaceships, man."
+
+Forrester smiled spasmically at the old man. "I'm sure you--"
+
+"But what happened?" the old man interrupted. "Tell you what happened,
+man. We never got to Mars and Venus. Mars and Venus came to us instead.
+Right along with Jupiter and Neptune and Pluto and all the rest of the
+Gods. And we had no progress ever since that day, Daddy-O, no progress
+at all and you can believe it."
+
+He dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat back with melancholy
+satisfaction.
+
+"Well," Forrester said mildly, "what good is progress?" The old man, he
+assured himself after a moment's reflection, wasn't actually saying
+anything blasphemous. After all, the Gods didn't expect their
+worshippers to be mindless slaves.
+
+Somehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have hated reporting the
+old man. Something in the outdated slang made him feel--almost
+patriotic. The old man was a part of America, a respected and important
+part.
+
+The respected part of America made itself felt again in Forrester's
+ribs. "Progress?" the old man said. "What good's progress? Listen,
+Daddy-O--how can the human race get anywhere without progress? Answer me
+that, will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going any
+place now. No place at all."
+
+"Now look," Forrester said patiently, "progress is an outmoded idea.
+We've got to be in step with the times. We've got to ask ourselves what
+progress ever did for us. How did we stand when the Gods returned?" For
+a brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went on: "Half
+the world ready to fight the other half with weapons that would have
+wiped both halves out. You ought to be grateful the Gods returned when
+they did."
+
+"But we're getting into Nowheresville, man," the old man complained.
+"We're not in orbit. We can't progress."
+
+Forrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man, anyway? The answer
+came to him as soon as he'd asked the question. He wanted to keep his
+mind off the Tower of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an
+unpleasant answer; Forrester blanked it out.
+
+"Now, friend," he said. "What have you got? Just what mankind's been
+looking for all these centuries. Security. You've got security. Nobody's
+going to blow you to pieces tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish
+overnight. I mean, if you--"
+
+"I got a job," the old man said.
+
+"Really?" Forrester said politely. "What is it?"
+
+"Retired. And it's a tough job, too."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said.
+
+"And anyhow," the old man went on, "what's all this got to do with
+progress?"
+
+Forrester thought. "Well--"
+
+"Well, nothing," the old man said. "Listen to me, man. I say nothing
+against the Gods--right? Nothing at all. Wouldn't want to do anything
+like that. But at the same time, it looks to me like we ought to be able
+to--reap the fruits of our labors. I read that some place."
+
+"But--"
+
+"In the three thousand years the Gods were gone, we weren't a total
+loss, man. Not anything like. We discovered a lot. About nature and
+science and like that. We invented science all by ourselves. So how come
+the Gods don't let us use it?" The old man dug his elbow once more into
+Forrester's rib. "How come?"
+
+"The Gods haven't taken anything away from us," Forrester said.
+
+"Haven't they?" the old man demanded. "How about television? Want to
+answer that one, Daddy-O? Years ago, everybody had a television set.
+Color and 3-D. The most. The end. Now there's no television at all. Why
+not? What happened to it?"
+
+"Well," Forrester said reasonably, "what good is television?"
+
+"What good?" Once more Forrester's rib felt the old man's elbow. "Let me
+tell you--"
+
+"No," Forrester interrupted, suddenly irritated with the whole
+conversation. "Let _me_ tell _you_. The trouble with your generation was
+that all they wanted to do was sit around on their _glutei maximi_ and
+be entertained. Like a bunch of hypnotized geese. They didn't want to
+do anything for themselves. Half of them couldn't even read. And now
+you want to tell me that--"
+
+"Hold it, Daddy-O," the old man said. "You're telling me that the Gods
+took away television just because we were a bunch of hypnotized geese.
+That it?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"Okay," the old man said. "So tell me--what are we now? With the Gods
+and everything. I mean, man, really--what are we?"
+
+"Now?" Forrester said. "Now you're retired. You're a bunch of retired
+hypnotized geese."
+
+The doors of the train slid creakily open and Forrester got out onto the
+34th Street platform, walking angrily toward a stairway without looking
+back.
+
+True enough, the old man hadn't committed blasphemy, but it had
+certainly come close enough there at the end. And if pokes with the
+elbow weren't declared blasphemous, or at least equivalent to malicious
+mischief, he thought, there was no justice in the world.
+
+The real trouble was that the man had had no respect for the Gods. There
+were a good many of the older generation like him. They seemed to feel
+that humanity had been better off when the Gods had been away. Forrester
+couldn't see it, and felt vaguely uncomfortable in the presence of
+someone who believed it. After all, mankind _had_ been on the verge of
+mass suicide, and the Gods had mercifully come back from their
+self-imposed exile and taken care of things. The exile had been designed
+to prove, in the drastic laboratory of three thousand years, that Man by
+himself headed like a lemming for self-destruction. And, for Forrester,
+the point had been proven.
+
+Yet now that the human race had been saved, there were still men who
+griped about the Gods and their return. Forrester silently wished the
+pack of them in Hades, enjoying the company of Pluto and his ilk.
+
+At the corner of 34th and Broadway, as he came out of the subway
+tunnels, he bought a copy of the _News_ and glanced quickly through the
+headlines. But, as always, there was little sensational news. Mars was
+doing pretty well for himself, of course: there were two wars going on
+in Asia, one in Europe and three revolutions in South and Central
+America. That last did seem to be overdoing things a bit, but not
+seriously. Forrester shrugged, wondering vaguely when the United States
+was going to have its turn.
+
+But he couldn't concentrate on the paper and, after a little while, he
+got rid of it and took a look at his watch.
+
+Twenty to six. Forrester decided he could use a drink to brace himself
+and steady his nerves.
+
+Just one.
+
+On Sixth Avenue, near 34th Street, there was a bar called, for some
+obscure reason, the _Boat House_. Forrester headed for it, went inside
+and leaned against the bar. The bartender, a tall man with crew-cut
+reddish hair, raised his eyebrows in a questioning fashion.
+
+"What'll it be, friend?"
+
+"Vodka and ginger ale," Forrester said. "A double."
+
+It was still, he told himself uneasily, just one drink. And that was all
+he was going to have.
+
+The bartender brought it and Forrester sipped at it, watching his
+reflection in the mirror and wishing he felt easier in his mind about
+the whole Tower of Zeus affair. Then, very suddenly, he noticed that the
+man next to him was looking at him oddly. Forrester didn't like the look
+or, for that matter, the man himself, a raw-boned giant with deep-set
+eyes and a shock of dead-black hair, but so long as nobody bothered him,
+Forrester wasn't going to start anything.
+
+Unfortunately, somebody bothered him. The tall man leaned over and said
+loudly: "What's the matter with you, bud? An infidel or something?"
+
+Forrester hesitated. The accusation that he didn't believe in the
+practices ordained by the Gods themselves was an irritating one. But he
+could see the other side of the question, too. The tall man was
+undoubtedly a Dionysian; and, more than that, a member of a small sect
+inside the general _corpus_ of Bacchus/Dionysus worshippers. He held
+that it was wrong to distill grape or grain products "too far," until
+there was nothing left but the alcohol.
+
+That meant disapproval of gin and vodka on the grounds that, unlike
+whiskey or brandy, they'd had the "life" distilled out of them.
+
+Forrester, however, was not really fond of brandy and whiskey. He
+decided to explain this to the tall man, but at the same time he began
+to develop the sinking feeling that it wasn't going to do any good.
+
+Oh, well, there was still room for patience. "Don't fire," as Mars had
+said somewhere, "until you see the whites of their eyes."
+
+"No, I'm no infidel," Forrester said politely. "You see, I'm--"
+
+"_No infidel?_" the tall man roared. "Then I tell you what you do. You
+pour that slop out and drink a proper drink." He made a grab for
+Forrester's glass.
+
+Forrester jerked it back, sloshing it a little in the process--and a few
+drops splattered on the other's hand.
+
+"Now look here," Forrester said in a reasonable tone of voice. "I--"
+
+"You spilling that stuff on me? What the blazes are you doing that for?
+I got a good mind to--"
+
+Another man stepped into the altercation. This was a square-built,
+bullet-headed man with an air that was both truculent and eager. "What's
+the matter, Herb?" he asked the tall man. "This guy giving you trouble
+or something?" He favored Forrester with a fierce scowl. Forrester
+smiled pleasantly back, a little unsure as to how to proceed.
+
+"This guy?" Herb said. "_Trouble?_ Sam, he's an _infidel_!"
+
+Forrester said: "I--"
+
+"He drinks vodka," Herb said. "And I guess he drinks gin too."
+
+"Great Bacchus," Sam said in a tone of wonder. "You run into them
+everywhere these days. Can't get away from the sons of--"
+
+"Now--" Forrester started.
+
+"And not only that," Herb said, "but he spills the stuff on me. Just
+because I ask him to have a regular drink like a man."
+
+"_Spills_ it on you?" Sam said.
+
+Herb said: "Look," and extended his arm. On the sleeve of his jacket a
+few spots were slowly drying.
+
+"Well, that's too much," Sam said heavily. "Just too damn much." He
+scowled at Forrester again. "You know, buddy, somebody ought to teach
+guys like you a lesson."
+
+Forrester took a swallow of his drink and set the glass down
+unhurriedly. If either Herb or Sam attacked him, he knew his oath would
+permit his fighting back. And after the day he'd had, he rather looked
+forward to the chance. But he had to do his part to hold off an actual
+fight. "Now look here, friend--"
+
+"Friend?" Sam said. "Don't call me your friend, buddy. I make no friends
+with infidels."
+
+And, at that point, Forrester realized that he wasn't going to have a
+fight with Herb or Sam. He was going to have a fight with Herb _and_
+Sam--and with the third gentleman, a shaggy, beefy man who needed a
+shave, who stepped up behind them and asked: "Trouble?" in a voice that
+indicated that trouble was exactly what he was looking for.
+
+"Maybe it is trouble, at that," Herb said tightly, without turning
+around. "This infidel here's been committing blasphemy."
+
+Three against one wasn't as happy a thought as an even fight had been,
+but it was too late to back out now. "That's a lie!" Forrester snapped.
+
+"Call me a liar?" Sam roared. He stepped forward and swung a hamlike
+fist at Forrester's head.
+
+Forrester ducked. The heavy fist swished by his ear harmlessly, and he
+felt a strange new mixture of elation and fright. He grabbed his
+vodka-and-ginger from the bar and swung it in a single sweeping arc
+before him. Liquid rained on the faces of the three men.
+
+Sam was still a little off balance. Forrester slammed the edge of his
+right hand into his side, and Sam stumbled to the floor. In the same
+motion, Forrester let fly with the now-empty glass. The shaggy man stood
+directly in his path. The glass conked him on the forehead and bounced
+to the floor, where it shattered unnoticed. The shaggy man blinked and
+Forrester, moving forward, discovered that he had no time to follow
+matters up in that direction.
+
+Herb was snarling inarticulately, wiping vodka-and-ginger from his eyes.
+He blocked Forrester's advance toward the shaggy man. Forrester smiled
+gently and put a hard fist into Herb's solar plexus. The tall man
+doubled up in completely silent agony.
+
+Forrester took a breath and started forward again. The shaggy man was
+shaking his head, trying to clear it.
+
+Then Forrester's head became unclear. Something had banged against his
+right temple and the room was suddenly filled with pain and small, hard
+stars. Sam, Forrester discovered, had managed to get to his feet. The
+something had been a small brass ashtray that Sam had thrown at him.
+
+Somehow, he stayed on his feet. The stars were still swirling around
+him, but he began to be able to see through them, and peered at the
+figure of the shaggy man, coming at him again. He let his knees bend a
+little, as if he were going to pass out. The shaggy man seemed to gain
+confidence from this, and stepped in carefully to kick Forrester in the
+stomach.
+
+Forrester stepped back, grabbed the upcoming foot, and stood straight,
+lifting the foot and levering it into the air.
+
+The shaggy man, surprise written all over his shaveless face, went over
+backward with great abruptness. His head hit the floor with an audible
+and satisfying _whack_, and then his limbs settled and he remained
+there, sprawled out and very quiet.
+
+Forrester, meanwhile, was whirling to meet Sam, who was coming in like a
+bear, his arms outspread and a glaze of hatred in his eyes. Forrester,
+expressionless, ducked under the man's flailing arms and slammed a fist
+into his midsection. It was a harder midsection than he'd expected;
+unlike Herb, Sam had good muscles, and hitting them was like hitting
+thick rubber. The blow didn't put Sam down. It only made him gasp once.
+
+That was enough. Forrester doubled his right fist and let Sam have one
+more blow, this one into the face. Sam's mouth opened as his eyes
+closed. His left arm pawed the air aimlessly for a tenth of a second.
+
+Then he dropped like an empty overcoat.
+
+There was a second of absolute silence. Then Forrester heard a noise
+behind him and whirled.
+
+But it was only Herb, doubled up on the floor and very quietly retching.
+
+Catching his breath, Forrester looked around him. The fight had
+attracted a lot of attention from the other customers in the bar, but
+none of them seemed to want to prolong it by joining in.
+
+They were all trying to look as if they were minding their own business,
+while the bartender ...
+
+Forrester stared. The bartender was at the other end of the bar, far
+away from the scene of action.
+
+He was, as Forrester saw him, just hanging up the telephone.
+
+Forrester put a bill on the bar, turned and walked out into the street.
+He had absolutely no desire to get mixed up with the secular police.
+
+After all, he had an appointment to keep. And now--after a quiet drink
+that had turned into a three-against-one battle royal--he had to go and
+keep it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+It wasn't a very long walk from the _Boat House_ to the Tower of Zeus,
+but it was long enough. By the time Forrester got to the Tower, he was
+feeling a lot worse than he'd felt when he left the bar. Being perfectly
+frank with himself, he admitted that he felt terrible.
+
+The blow from the brass ashtray wasn't a sharp pain any longer. It had
+developed into a nice, dependable ache that had spread all over the side
+of his head. And his right eye was beginning to swell, probably from the
+same cause. He'd skinned the knuckles of his right hand, too, probably
+on Sam's face, and they set up their own smarting.
+
+True, it wasn't a bad list of injuries to result from the odds he'd
+faced. But that wasn't the point.
+
+You just didn't go up to the Tower of Zeus looking like a back-street
+brawler.
+
+However, there was no help for it. He straightened his jacket and went
+in through the Fifth Avenue entrance of the Tower, heading for the first
+bank of elevators.
+
+Zeus All-Father would know everything about his fight, and would know
+that it hadn't been his fault. (Hadn't it, though? Forrester asked
+himself. He remembered the joy he'd felt at the prospect of battle. How
+far would it count against him?) Zeus All-Father, through his priests,
+would make what allowances should be made.
+
+Forrester hoped that the Godhead was feeling in a kind and merciful
+mood.
+
+He reached the bank of elevators, and the burly Myrmidon who stood
+there, wearing the lightning-bolt shoulder patch of the All-Father.
+Ahead of him was a chattering crowd of five: mother, father, two
+daughters and a small son, all obviously out-of-towners. The Tower of
+Zeus was always a big tourist attraction. The Myrmidon directed them to
+the stairway that led to the second-floor Arcade, the main attraction
+for most visitors to the Tower. The Temple of Sacrifice was located up
+there, while the ground floor was filled with glass-fronted offices of
+the secretaries of various dignitaries.
+
+Chattering gaily, and looking around them in a kind of happy awe, the
+family group moved off and Forrester stepped up to the Myrmidon, who
+said: "Stairway's right over there to your--"
+
+"No," Forrester said. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling his
+muscles ache as he did so. He drew out his wallet and managed to extract
+the simple card he'd been given in the Temple of Pallas Athena, the card
+which carried nothing but a lightning bolt.
+
+He handed it to the Myrmidon, who looked down at it, frowned, and then
+looked up.
+
+"What's this for?" he said.
+
+"Well--" Forrester began, and then caught himself. He'd been told not to
+explain about the card to any mortal. And the Myrmidon was certainly
+just as mortal as Forrester himself, or any other hireling of the Gods.
+True, there was always the consideration that he might be Zeus
+All-Father himself, in disguise.
+
+But that was a consideration that bore no weight at present. Even if the
+Myrmidon turned out to be a God in disguise, Forrester wouldn't be
+excused if he said anything about the card. You had to go by
+appearances; that was the principle on which everything rested, and a
+very good principle too.
+
+Not that there weren't a few unprincipled young men around who pretended
+to be Gods in disguise in order to seduce various local and ingenuous
+maidens. But Zeus always found out about them. And ...
+
+Forrester recognized that his thoughts were beginning to veer once more.
+Without changing his expression, he said evenly: "You're supposed to
+know," and waited.
+
+The Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about three days. At last he
+nodded, looked down at the card intently, raised his head and nodded
+again. "Okay," he said. "Take Car One."
+
+Forrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator car. As a matter
+of fact, it was in the middle bank, identified only by a small placard.
+It took him almost five minutes to find it, and by the time he stepped
+toward it clocks were ticking urgently in his head.
+
+It would do him absolutely no good to be late.
+
+But another Myrmidon was standing beside the closed doors of the
+elevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath with impatience--none of
+which showed on his face--and then caught himself. Certainly Zeus
+All-Father knew what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delays
+in his path, it was not for him to complain.
+
+The thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester showed his card to the
+Myrmidon with an abrupt action very like impatience. This Myrmidon
+merely glanced at it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wall
+behind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped inside, and the
+doors closed.
+
+Forrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which began at once to
+rise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was unable to tell. There were no
+indicators at all on the elevator, and the opaque doors made it
+impossible to see floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, and
+when the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that threw
+Forrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost fell out of the car
+as the door opened, and clutched at something for support.
+
+The something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester gaped and looked
+around. He was in a plain hallway of polished marble. There was no way
+to tell how many stories above the street he was.
+
+The Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his compatriots
+downstairs, and wore in addition to the usual lightning-bolt patch the
+two silver ants of a Captain on the shoulders of his uniform. He nearly
+smiled at Forrester--but not quite.
+
+"You're William Forrester?" he said.
+
+Forrester nodded. He produced the ID card and handed it with the special
+card to the Myrmidon.
+
+"Right," the Myrmidon said.
+
+Forrester turned right.
+
+The Myrmidon stared at him. "No," he said. "I mean it's all right.
+You're all right."
+
+"Thank you," Forrester said.
+
+"Oh--" The Myrmidon looked at him, then shrugged his shoulders. "You're
+expected," he said at last in a flat voice. "Come with me."
+
+He started down the hallway. Forrester followed him around a corner to
+an ornate bronzed door, covered with bas-reliefs depicting the actions
+of the Gods among themselves, and among men. The Myrmidon seemed
+unimpressed by the magnificence of the thing; he pushed it open and
+bowed low to, as far as Forrester could see, nobody in particular.
+
+Taking no chances, Forrester copied his bow. He was still bent when the
+Myrmidon announced: "Forrester is here, Your Concupiscence," in a
+reverent tone of voice, and backed off a step, narrowly missing
+Forrester himself in the process.
+
+He waved a hand and Forrester went in.
+
+The door shut halfway behind him.
+
+The room was perfectly unbelievable. Its rich hangings were purple
+velvet, draping a large window that looked out on ...
+
+Forrester gulped. It was impossible to be this high. New York was spread
+out below like a toy city.
+
+He jerked his eyes away from the window and back to the rest of the
+room. It was furnished mainly with couches: big couches, little couches,
+puffy ones, spare ones, in felt, velvet, fur, and every other material
+Forrester could think of. The rooms were flocked in a pale pink, and on
+the floor was a deep-purple rug of a richer pile than Forrester had ever
+seen.
+
+And on one of the couches, the largest and the softest, she reclined.
+
+She was clad only in the diaphanous robes of her calling, and she was
+stacked. Beside her, little Maya Wilson would have looked about eight
+years old. Her hair was as red as the inside of a blast furnace, and had
+about the same effect on Forrester's pulse rate. Her face was a slightly
+rounded oval, her body a series of mathematically indescribable curves.
+
+Forrester did the only thing he could do.
+
+He bowed again, even lower than before.
+
+"Come in, William Forrester," said the High Priestess of
+Venus/Aphrodite, the veritable Primate of Venus for New York herself, in
+a voice that managed to be all at once regal, pleasant and seductive.
+
+Forrester, already in, could think of nothing to say. The gaze of Her
+Concupiscence fell on the half-open door. "You may retire, Captain," she
+said to the waiting Myrmidon. "And allow no one to enter here until I
+give notice."
+
+"Very well, Your Concupiscence," the Myrmidon said.
+
+The door shut.
+
+Forrester snapped erect from his bow, and then realized that he could do
+nothing but stand there until he had more information. What was the
+High Priestess of Aphrodite doing in the Tower of Zeus All-Father
+anyway? And--always supposing she had the right to be there, as of
+course she must have had--what did she want with William Forrester?
+
+He heaved a great sigh. This was turning into an extremely puzzling day.
+First there had been the message and the card admitting him to the
+Tower. Then there had been (the sigh changed in character) Maya Wilson.
+And then (the sigh changed again, into a faint echo of a groan) the
+fight in the _Boat House_.
+
+Now he was having an audience with the Primate of Venus for New York.
+
+Why?
+
+The High Priestess's smile gave him no hint. She raised herself to a
+sitting position and patted the couch. "Sit over here," she said. "Next
+to me." Then she changed her mind. "No," she added. "First just walk
+over here, stand up and turn around. Slowly."
+
+Forrester's brain was whirling like a top, but his face was, as usual,
+expressionless. He did as she had bid him, wondering frantically what
+was going on, and why?
+
+After he had turned completely around and stood facing her again, the
+High Priestess simply sat and studied him for almost a full minute,
+looking him up and down with eyes that were totally unreadable.
+Forrester waited.
+
+Finally she nodded her head slowly. "You'll do," she said, in a
+reflective tone, and nodded her head again. "Yes, you'll do."
+
+Forrester couldn't restrain his questions any longer. "_Do?_" he burst
+out. "I mean," he continued, more quietly, "what will I do for, Your
+Concupiscence?"
+
+"Oh, for whatever honor it is that our beloved Goddess has in mind for
+you," the High Priestess said offhandedly. "I can certainly see that you
+will do. A little pudgy around the middle, but that's a trifle and
+hardly matters. The important things are there. You're obviously strong
+and quick."
+
+At that point Forrester caught up with the first sentence of her
+explanation. "The--the Goddess?" he said faintly.
+
+"Certainly," the High Priestess said. "Else why would I give you
+audience? I am not promiscuous in my dealings with the lay world."
+
+"I'm sure," Forrester said respectfully.
+
+The High Priestess looked at him sardonically. "Of course you are," she
+said. "However, the important thing is that our beloved Aphrodite has
+selected you, William Forrester, for some high honor."
+
+Forrester caught her word for the Goddess, and remembered, thanking his
+lucky stars he hadn't had a chance to slip, that here in the Tower it
+was protocol to refer to the Gods and Goddesses by their Greek names
+alone.
+
+"I don't suppose," he said tentatively, "that you have any idea just
+what this--high honor is?"
+
+"You, William Forrester," the High Priestess began, in some rage, "dare
+to question--" Her tone changed. "Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn't become
+angry with ... No." She shrugged, but her tone carried a little pique.
+"Frankly, I don't know what the honor is."
+
+"Well, then," Forrester said, his bearing perfectly calm, even though he
+could feel his stomach sinking to ground level, "how do you know it's an
+honor?" The thought that had crossed his mind was almost too horrible to
+retain, but he had to say it. "Perhaps," he went on, "I've offended the
+Gods in some unusual way--some way very offensive to them."
+
+"Perhaps you have."
+
+"And perhaps," Forrester said, "they've decided on some exquisite method
+of punishing me. Something like the punishment they gave Tantalus when
+he--"
+
+"I know the ways of the Gods quite well, thank you," the High Priestess
+said coolly. "And I can tell you that your fears have no justification."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Please," the High Priestess said, raising a hand. "If the Gods were to
+punish you, they would simply have sent out a squad of Myrmidons to pick
+you up, and that would have been the end of it."
+
+"Perhaps not," Forrester said, in a voice that didn't sound at all like
+his own to him. It sounded much too unconcerned. "Perhaps I have
+offended only the Goddess herself." The idea sounded more plausible the
+more he thought about it. "Certainly the All-Father would back up his
+favorite Daughter in punishing a mortal."
+
+"Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And still the Myrmidons
+would have--"
+
+"Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional arguments and
+quarrels between the Gods."
+
+"I am," the High Priestess said, not without irony. "And it does not
+appear seemly that an ordinary mortal should mention--"
+
+"I teach History," Forrester said. "I know of such quarrels. Especially
+between Athena and Aphrodite."
+
+"And?"
+
+"It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may be that Aphrodite
+wished to keep my arrest secret."
+
+"I doubt it," the High Priestess said.
+
+Forrester wished he could believe her. But his own theory looked
+uncomfortably plausible. "It certainly looks as if I'm right."
+
+"Well--" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly, the freckles
+that went with her red hair standing out clearly on her face and giving
+her the disturbing appearance of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old,
+however, Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the High
+Priestess.
+
+Then she regained her color and laughed, all in an instant. "For a
+minute," she said in a light tone, "you almost convinced me of your
+forebodings. But there's nothing in them. There couldn't be."
+
+Forrester opened his mouth, and _Why not?_ was on his lips. But he never
+got a chance to say the words. The High Priestess blinked and peered
+more closely at his face, and before he had a chance to speak she asked
+him: "What happened to you?"
+
+"A small accident," Forrester said quickly. It was a lie, but he thought
+a pardonable one. The truth was just too complicated to spin out; he had
+no real intent to deceive.
+
+But the High Priestess shook her head. "No," she said. "Not an accident.
+A fight. Your hands are skinned and bruised."
+
+"Very well," Forrester said. "It was a fight. But I was attacked, and
+entitled to defend myself."
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said. "Yet I have a question for you. Who
+won?"
+
+"Won? I did. Naturally."
+
+It sounded boastful, he reflected, but it wasn't. He had won, and it had
+been natural to him to do so. His build and strength, as well as his
+speed, had made any other outcome unlikely.
+
+And the High Priestess didn't seem to take offense. She said only: "I
+thought so. Just a moment." Then she walked over to a telephone. It was
+a simple act but Forrester watched it fervently. First she stood up, and
+then she took a step, and then another step ... and her whole body
+moved. And moved.
+
+It was marvelous. He watched her bend down to pick up the phone without
+any clear idea of the meaning of the motions. The motions themselves
+were enough. Every curve and jiggle and bounce was engraved forever on
+his mind.
+
+The High Priestess dialed a number, waited and said: "Aphrodite's
+compliments to Hermes the Healer."
+
+An indistinguishable voice answered her from the receiver.
+
+"Aphrodite thanks you," the High Priestess said, "and asks if Hermes
+might send one of his priests around for a few minor ministrations."
+
+The receiver said something else.
+
+"No," the High Priestess said. "Nothing like that. Don't you think we
+have other interests--such as they are?"
+
+Again the receiver.
+
+"Just a black eye and some skin lacerations," the High Priestess said.
+"Nothing serious."
+
+And the receiver replied once more.
+
+"Very well," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite wishes you well." She
+hung up.
+
+She came back to the couch, Forrester's eyes following her every inch of
+the way. She sat down, looked up and said: "What's the matter? Do I bore
+you?"
+
+"_Bore_ me?" Forrester all but cried.
+
+"It's just--well, nothing, I suppose," the High Priestess said. "Your
+expression."
+
+"Training," Forrester explained. "An acolyte does well not to express
+his emotions too clearly."
+
+The High Priestess nodded casually and patted the couch at her side.
+"Sit down here, next to me."
+
+Forrester did so, gingerly.
+
+A moment of silence ensued.
+
+Then Forrester, gathering courage, said: "Thank you for getting a
+Healer. But I'd like to ask you--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"How do you know I'm not under some sort of carefully concealed arrest?
+After all, you said before that you were sure--"
+
+"And I am sure," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite herself has ordered
+a sacrifice in her favor. A sacrifice from you. And Aphrodite does not
+accept--much less _order_--a sacrifice from those standing in her
+disfavor."
+
+"You're--"
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Good." The world was not quite as black as it
+could have been. And still, it was not exactly shining white. A
+sacrifice? And outside the door, Forrester could hear a disturbance.
+
+What did that mean?
+
+Her Concupiscence didn't seem to hear it at first. "We will perform the
+rite together and--" The noise grew louder. "What's that?" she said.
+
+It was the sound of argument. Forrester realized what had happened.
+"It's the priest from Hermes," he said. "The Healer. You forgot to tell
+the Captain of Myrmidons to let him in."
+
+"My goodness!" the High Priestess said. "So I did! It slipped my mind
+entirely." She touched Forrester's cheek affectionately. "Of course, I
+imagine it's only natural to be a bit forgetful when--" She got up and
+went to the door.
+
+The Captain and a small, fat priest in a golden-edged tunic were tangled
+confusedly outside. The High Priestess looked away from them in disdain
+and said regally: "You may permit the Healer to enter, Captain." The
+tangle came untied and the little priest scooted in. To him, as the door
+closed again, the High Priestess whispered: "Sorry. I didn't expect you
+quite so soon."
+
+"No more did I!" The priest waved his caduceus furiously, so that it
+seemed as if the twin snakes twined round it were moving, the two wings
+above them beating, and the ball surmounting all, on top of the staff,
+traced uneasy designs in the air. "Myrmidons!" he said.
+
+"I certainly regret--"
+
+"If you boiled down their brains for the fat content, one alone would
+supply the Temple with candles for a year! Just beef and nothing more!
+Beef! Beef!"
+
+Then, with a start, he seemed to see the High Priestess for the first
+time, and his tone changed. "Oh," he said. "Good evening, Your
+Concupiscence."
+
+"Good evening," the High Priestess said in an indulgent tone.
+
+"Well, well, well," the priest said. "What seems to be the trouble? My
+goodness. It must be important, sure enough--certainly important." His
+little round red eager face seemed to shine as he went on. "Hermes
+himself transported me here just as soon as you called!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Just as soon as ever. Yes. Hm. And you
+can believe me when I tell you--believe me, Your Concupiscence--take my
+word when I tell you--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Hermes," the priest said. "Hermes doesn't often take such an
+interest--I may say such a _personal_ interest--in a mortal, I'll tell
+you. And you can believe me when I do tell you that. I do."
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.
+
+"Yes," the priest said, waving his caduceus gently. He blinked. "Where's
+the patient? The mortal?"
+
+"He's over here," the High Priestess said, motioning to Forrester
+sitting awestruck on the couch. Priests of Hermes were common enough
+sights--but a priest like this was something new and strange in his
+experience.
+
+"Ah," the priest said, twinkling at him. "So there you are, eh? Over
+there? You _are_ sitting over _there_, aren't you?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said blankly.
+
+"Now listen to me carefully," the High Priestess said. "You're not
+to ask his name, or mention anything about this visit to
+anyone--understand?"
+
+The priest blinked. "Oh, certainly. Absolutely. Without doubt. I've
+already been told that, you might say. Already. Certainly. Wouldn't
+think of such a thing." He moved over and stood near Forrester, peering
+down at him. "My goodness," he said. "Let me see that eye, young man."
+
+Forrester turned his head wordlessly.
+
+"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Black indeed. Very black. A fight. My,
+yes. An altercation, disagreement, discussion, battle--"
+
+"Yes," Forrester cut in.
+
+"Certainly you have," the priest said. "And what'd the other fellow look
+like, eh? Beaten, I'll bet. You look a strong type."
+
+Forrester relaxed. It was the only thing to do while the priest babbled
+on, touching his wounds gently as he did so with various parts of his
+caduceus. The pain vanished with a touch of the left wingtip, and the
+lacerations healed instantly as they were caressed with first one and
+then another of the various coils of the snakes.
+
+But Forrester now was free to worry. Arrest was out of the question. As
+the High Priestess had said, on the evidence it was clear that Aphrodite
+intended to honor him in some way. And there was nothing at all, he
+thought, wrong with an honor from the Goddess of Love.
+
+But another sacrifice? After the sacrifice to Aphrodite he'd made
+earlier, and the fight he'd gotten into, he just didn't quite feel up to
+it. It wouldn't do to refuse, but ...
+
+"Well," the priest said, stepping back. "Well, well. You ought to be all
+right now, young fellow--right as rain."
+
+Forrester said: "Thanks."
+
+"Might feel a little soreness--tenderness, you might say--for a day or
+so. Only a day or so, tenderness," the priest said. "After that, right
+as rain. Right as you'll ever be. _All_ right, as a matter of fact: all
+right."
+
+Forrester said: "Thanks."
+
+The priest went to the door, turned, and said to the High Priestess:
+"Hermes' blessing on you both, as a matter of fact, as they say.
+Blessings from Hermes on you both."
+
+The High Priestess nodded regally.
+
+"And," the priest said, "merely by the way, as it might be, without
+meaning harm, if you would ask a blessing for me--Aphrodite's blessing?
+Easy for you. Of course, it would be nice curing--curing, as they
+say--stupidity, plain dumbness, as they call such things--curing
+stupidity as easily as I can cure small ills. Nice."
+
+"Indeed," the High Priestess said.
+
+"But there," the priest went on. "Only the Gods can cure that. Only the
+Gods and no one else. Yes. Hm. And not often. They don't do anything
+like that in the--ah--regular course of things. As a matter of fact, you
+might say, I've never heard of--never heard of such a case. Never. Not
+one. Yet ..." He opened the door, spat: "Myrmidons!" and disappeared
+into the hallway.
+
+The door banged shut.
+
+Forrester sighed heavily. The High Priestess turned to him.
+
+"Feel better?" she asked.
+
+"Much," Forrester said, dreading the ordeal to come.
+
+The High Priestess came over to the couch and sat down next to him. She
+put a hand on his shoulder. "Shall we prepare for the--sacrifice?"
+
+Forrester sighed again. "Sure," he said. "Naturally."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she was locked in his arms, it was as if time had started all over
+again. Forrester responded to the eagerness of the woman as he'd never
+dreamed he could respond; all his tiredness dropped away as if it had
+never been, and he was a new man. He touched her bare flesh and felt the
+heat of her through his fingers and hands; with his arms around her
+nakedness he rolled, locked to her, feeling the friction of skin against
+skin and the magnificence of her.
+
+The sacrifice went on ... and on ... and on into endless time and
+endless space. Forrester thrust and gasped at the woman and her head
+went back, her mouth pulled open as she shivered and responded to
+him....
+
+Forever....
+
+Until finally they lay, panting, in the magnificent room. Forrester rose
+first, vaguely surprised at himself. He found a towel in a closet at the
+far end of the room and wiped his damp forehead slowly.
+
+"Well," he said. "That was quite a sacrifice. What next?"
+
+The High Priestess raised herself on one elbow and stared across the
+room at him. "There is no need for such familiarity, Forrester," she
+said. "Not from a lay acolyte."
+
+Forrester tossed the towel onto a couch. "My apologies, Your
+Concupiscence. I'm a little--light-headed. But what happens next?"
+
+The High Priestess reached into the diaphanous pile of her clothing and
+came up with a small diamond-encrusted watch she wore, usually, on her
+wrist. "Our timing was almost perfect," she said. "It is now
+twenty-hundred hours. The Goddess expects you at twenty-oh-one exactly."
+
+A hurried half-minute passed. Then, fully dressed, Forrester went with
+the High Priestess to a golden door half-hidden in the hangings at the
+side of the room. She made a series of mystical signs: the circle, the
+serpent and others Forrester couldn't quite follow.
+
+She opened the door, genuflecting as she did so, and Forrester dropped
+to one knee behind her, looking at the doorway.
+
+It was filled with a pale blue haze that looked like the clear summer
+sky on a hot day. Except that it wasn't sky, but a curtain that wavered
+and shimmered before his eyes. Beyond it, he could see nothing.
+
+The High Priestess rose from her genuflection and Forrester followed
+suit. There was a sole second of silence.
+
+Then the High Priestess said: "You are to step through the Veil of
+Heaven, William Forrester."
+
+Forrester said: "_Me?_ Through the _Veil of Heaven_?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," she said. "And don't try to touch the Veil. Just walk
+through as if nothing at all were there."
+
+Forrester filled his lungs as though he were going to take a very high
+dive. He thought: _Here goes nothing_. That was all; there wasn't time
+for anything else.
+
+He stepped into the blue haze, and had a sudden sensation of falling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+There was a tingle like a mild electric shock. Forrester opened his
+mouth and then closed it again as the tingle stopped, and the sense of
+falling simply died away. He had closed his eyes on the way into the
+curtain, and now he opened them again.
+
+He closed them very quickly, counted to ten, and took a deep breath.
+Then he opened them to look at the room he was in.
+
+It was unlike any room he had ever seen before. It didn't have the
+opulence of the High Priestess's rooms. I am a room, it seemed to say,
+and a room is what I was meant to be. I don't have to draw attention to
+myself like my poorer sisters. I am content merely to exist as the room
+of rooms, the very type and image of the Ideal Enclosure.
+
+The floors and walk of the place seemed to blend into each other at odd
+angles. Forrester's eyes couldn't quite follow them or understand them,
+and judging the size of the room was out of the question. There was a
+golden wash of light filling the room, though it didn't seem to come
+from anywhere in particular. It was, in fact, as if the room itself were
+shining. Forrester blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light, or whatever
+it was, was changing color.
+
+Gradually, he realized that it went on doing that. He wasn't sure that
+he liked it, but it was certainly different. The colors went from gold
+to pale rose to violet to blue, and so on, back to gold again, while
+little eddies and swirls of light sparkled into rainbows here and there.
+
+Forrester began to feel dizzy again.
+
+There were various objects standing around here and there in the room,
+but Forrester couldn't quite tell what they were. Even their sizes were
+difficult to judge, because of the shifting light and shape of the room
+itself. There was only one thing that seemed reasonably certain.
+
+He was alone in the room.
+
+Set in one wall was a square of light that didn't change color quite as
+much as everything else. Forrester judged it to be a window and headed
+for it. With his first step, he discovered something else about the
+place.
+
+The carpeting was completely unique. Instead of fiber, the floor seemed
+to have been covered a foot deep with foam rubber. Forrester didn't
+exactly walk to the window; he bounced there. The sensation was almost
+enjoyable, he thought, when you got used to it. He wondered just how
+long it took to get used to it and settled on eighty years as a good
+first guess.
+
+He stood in front of the window. He looked out.
+
+He saw nothing but clouds and sky.
+
+It took a long while for him to decide what to do next, and when he
+finally did come to a decision, it was the wrong one.
+
+He looked down.
+
+Below him there were tumbled rocks, ledges of ice and snow, clouds
+and--far, far below--the flat land of the Earth. He wanted to shut his
+eyes, but he couldn't. The whole vast stomach-churning panorama spread
+out beneath him endlessly. The people below, if there were any, weren't
+even big enough to be ants. They were completely invisible. Forrester
+took a deep breath and gripped the side ledges of the window.
+
+And a voice behind him said: "Welcome, Mortal."
+
+Forrester almost went through the window. But he managed to regain his
+balance and turn around, saying angrily: "Don't _do_ that!" As the last
+of the words left his lips, he became aware of the smiling figure facing
+him.
+
+She was standing in a spotlight, Forrester thought at first. Then he saw
+that the light was coming from the woman herself--or from her clothing.
+The dress she wore was a satinlike sheath that glowed with an aura even
+brighter than the room. Her blonde hair picked up the radiance and
+glowed, too, illuminating a face that was at once regal, inviting and
+passionate. It was, Forrester thought, a hell of a disturbing
+combination.
+
+The cloth of the dress clung to her figure as if it wanted to. Forrester
+didn't blame it a bit; the dress showed off a figure that was not only
+beyond his wildest dreams, but a long way beyond what he had hitherto
+regarded as the bounds of possibility. From shoulder to toe, she was
+perfection.
+
+This was also true of the woman from shoulder to crown.
+
+Forrester gulped and, automatically, went on one knee.
+
+"Please," he murmured. "Pardon me. I didn't mean--"
+
+"Quite all right," the Goddess murmured. "I understand perfectly."
+
+"But I--"
+
+"Never mind all that now," Venus said, with just a hint of impatience.
+"Rise, William Forrester--or you who were William Forrester."
+
+Forrester rose. Sweat was pouring down his face. He made no effort to
+wipe it away. "Were?" he asked, dazed. "But that's my name!"
+
+"It _was_," Venus said, in the same calm tone. "Henceforth, your name is
+Dionysus."
+
+Forrester took a while to remember to swallow. "Dionysus?" he said at
+last.
+
+There was another silence.
+
+Forrester, feeling that perhaps his first question could use some
+amplification, said: "Dionysus? Bacchus? You mean me?"
+
+"Quite right," Venus said. "That will be your name, and you'd better
+begin getting used to it."
+
+"Now wait a minute!" he said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but
+something occurs to me. I mean, it's the first thing I thought of, and
+I'm probably wrong, but just let me ask the questions, if you don't
+mind, and maybe some of this will make some sense. Because just a few
+hours ago I was doing very nicely on my own and I--"
+
+"What are your questions?" Venus said.
+
+Forrester swayed. "Dionysus/Bacchus himself," he said. "Won't he mind
+my--"
+
+Venus laughed. "Mind your using his name? My goodness, no."
+
+"But--"
+
+"It's all because of the orgies," Venus said.
+
+Everything, he told himself, was getting just a little too much for him.
+"Orgies?" he said.
+
+Venus nodded. "You see, there are all those orgies held in his honor.
+You know about those, of course."
+
+"Sure I do," Forrester said, watching everything narrowly. In just a few
+seconds, he told himself hopefully, the whole room would vanish and he
+would be in a nice, peaceful insane asylum.
+
+"Well, it isn't impossible for a God to be at all the orgies held in his
+honor," Venus said. "Naturally not. But, at the same time, they are all
+rather boring--for a God, I mean. And that's why you're here," she
+finished.
+
+Forrester said: "Oh." And then he said: "Oh?" The room hadn't
+disappeared yet, but he was willing to give it time.
+
+"Dionysus," Venus said patiently, as if she were explaining the matter
+to a small and rather ugly child, "gets tired of appearing at the
+orgies. He wants someone to take his place."
+
+The silence after that sentence was a very long one. Forrester could
+think of nothing to say but: "_Me?_"
+
+"You will be raised to the status of Godling," Venus said. "You remember
+Hercules and Achilles, don't you?"
+
+"Never met them," Forrester said vacantly.
+
+"Naturally," Venus said. "They were, however, ancient heroes, raised to
+the status of Godling, just as you yourself will be. However, you will
+not be honored or worshipped under your own name."
+
+Forrester nodded. "Naturally," he said, wondering what he was talking
+about. There was, he realized, the possibility that he was not insane
+after all, but he didn't want to think about that. It was much too
+painful.
+
+"You will receive instructions in the use of certain powers," Venus
+said. "These will enable you to perform your new duties."
+
+Duties.
+
+The word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus was the God of
+wine, among other things, and women and song had been thrown in as an
+afterthought. The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded just
+a little bit overwhelming.
+
+"These--duties," he said. "Will they be temporary or permanent?"
+
+"Well," Venus said, "that depends." She smiled at him sweetly.
+
+"Depends?"
+
+"So far," Venus said, "our testing shows that you are capable of
+handling certain of the duties to be entrusted to you. But, for the
+rest, everything depends on your own talents and devotion."
+
+"Ah," Forrester said, and then: "Testing?"
+
+"You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an important job like
+this without making certain that he was capable of doing the job, do
+you?"
+
+"Frankly," Forrester said, "I haven't got around to supposing anything
+yet."
+
+Venus smiled again. "We have tested you," she said, "and so far you
+appear perfectly capable of exercising your powers."
+
+Forrester blinked. "Exercising?"
+
+"Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do exceptionally well."
+
+"As a--"
+
+"How does your face feel?" she asked.
+
+"My what?" Forrester said. "Oh. Face. Fine. Street brawls, you said?"
+
+"I did," Venus said. "My goodness, the way you bashed that one bruiser
+with your drink--that was really excellent. As a matter of fact, I feel
+it incumbent on me to tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much in
+years."
+
+Wondering whether he should be complimented or just a little ashamed of
+himself, Forrester said nothing at all. The idea that he had been under
+the personal supervision of Aphrodite herself bothered him more than he
+could say. The brawl was the first thing that came to mind. It didn't
+seem like the sort of thing a Goddess of Love ought to have been
+watching.
+
+And then he thought of the High Priestess.
+
+He felt a blush creeping up around his collar, and was thankful only
+that it was not visible under the tan of his skin. He remembered who had
+ordered the sacrificial rites, and thought bitterly and guiltily about
+spectator sports.
+
+But his face remained perfectly calm.
+
+"So far," Venus said, "I must say that you have come through with flying
+colors. You should be proud of yourself."
+
+Forrester didn't feel exactly proud. He wanted to crawl into a hole and
+die there.
+
+"Well," he said, "I--"
+
+"But there is more," Aphrodite said.
+
+"More?"
+
+The idea didn't sound attractive. In spite of what one of the tests had
+involved, the notion of any more tests was just a little fatiguing.
+Besides, Forrester was not at all sure that he would be at his best,
+when he knew that dispassionate observers were chronicling his technique
+and his every movement.
+
+How much more, he wondered, could he take?
+
+And, he reflected, how much more of _what_?
+
+"We must be certain," Aphrodite said, "that you can prove yourself
+worthy of the dignity of a Godling."
+
+"Ah," Forrester said cleverly. "So there are going to be more tests?"
+
+"There are," Venus said. "After all, you will be expected to act as the
+_alter persona_ of Dionysus. That involves responsibilities almost
+beyond the ken of a mortal."
+
+Wine, Forrester thought wildly, women and song.
+
+He wondered if he were going to be asked to sing something. He couldn't
+remember anything except the _Star Spangled Banner_ and an exceptionally
+silly rhyme from his childhood. Neither of them seemed just right for
+the occasion.
+
+"You must learn to behave as a true God," Venus said. "And we must know
+whether you are fitted for the part."
+
+Forrester nodded. The one thing keeping him sane, he reflected, was the
+hope of insanity. But the room was still there, and Venus was standing
+near him, talking quietly away.
+
+"Thus," she said, "there must be further tests, so that we may be sure
+of your capacities."
+
+Capacities? Just what was _that_ supposed to mean? "I see," he lied.
+"And suppose I fail?"
+
+"Fail?"
+
+"Suppose I don't live up to expectations," Forrester said.
+
+"Well, then," Venus declared, "I'm afraid the Gods might be angry with
+you."
+
+Forrester had no doubt whatever as to the meaning of the words. Either
+he lived up to expectations or he didn't live at all. The Gods' anger
+was not a small affair, and it seldom satisfied itself with small
+results. When a God got angry with you, you simply hoped the result
+would be quick. You didn't really dare hope it would also be temporary.
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had been doing his own
+picking, he thought a little sadly, the job of tryout stand-in for
+Dionysus was not the job he would have chosen. But then, the choice
+wasn't his, and it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.
+
+Unfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn't be laid at the door of
+the Gods. It would be laid at the door of William Forrester, together
+with a nice, big, black funeral wreath.
+
+But it didn't sound too bad at that, he told himself hopefully. After
+all, it wasn't every day that a man was offered the job of stand-in for
+a God, not every day that a man was offered the chance of passing a lot
+of strenuous and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.
+
+He told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but all he could
+think of was the succession of tests still to come. What would they be
+like? How could he ever pass them all? What would be thought necessary
+to establish a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?
+
+Looks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and he certainly had
+those. For a second he almost wished he could see Ed Symes and apologize
+for getting mad when Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.
+
+But then, he reflected, he didn't want to go too far. The idea of
+apologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his sister was, made Forrester's
+gorge rise about five and a half feet.
+
+"However," Aphrodite went on, as if she had just thought of something
+too unimportant to bother mentioning, "don't worry about it. My father's
+thunderbolt needn't concern you. I have every confidence that you will
+prove yourself."
+
+She smiled radiantly at him.
+
+The idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn't think that a
+mortal's mortality was important. But the idea didn't stay long. Being
+reassured by a Goddess, he told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.
+
+Venus was looking him up and down speculatively, and Forrester suddenly
+thought a new test was coming. A little gentle sweat began to break out
+on his forehead again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breath
+and tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The High Priestess had
+been something special but, Forrester thought, she had not really called
+out his _all_. Venus was clearly another matter.
+
+But Venus said only: "Those clothes," in a considering sort of tone.
+
+"Clothes?" Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.
+
+"You certainly can't go in those clothes. Hera would object quite
+violently, I'm afraid. She's awfully stuffy about such things."
+
+The intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester. "Stuffy? Hera?"
+
+"Confidentially," Venus said, "at times, the All-Mother can be an
+absolute bitch."
+
+She went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a part of the light
+seemed to fade as she did so. Of course, she did nothing so crude as
+opening a door. When she started for the wall there was no closet
+apparent there, but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.
+
+It was just that simple.
+
+She took out a white robe and started back. Forrester took his eyes from
+her with an effort and watched the closet disappear again. By the time
+she had reached him, it was only a part of the swirling wall again.
+
+And the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.
+
+She handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but it seemed real
+enough. At any rate, it was as real as anything else that was happening
+to him, he thought.
+
+It was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient Greek _chiton_,
+and open at one side instead of the front. Forrester turned it in his
+hands. At the waist and shoulder there was a golden clasp to hold it in
+place. The clasp wasn't figured in any special way. The material itself
+was odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it was perfectly
+opaque, it was thinner than any paper Forrester had ever seen in public.
+It almost didn't seem to be there when he rubbed it between his thumb
+and forefinger.
+
+"Well, don't just stand there," Venus said. "Get started."
+
+"Started?" Forrester said.
+
+"Get dressed. The others are waiting for you."
+
+"Others?"
+
+But she didn't answer. Forrester looked frantically around the room for
+anything that looked even remotely like a dressing room. As a last
+resort, he was willing to settle for a screen. No room, no screen. He
+was willing to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There was
+none.
+
+He looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he thought, she would leave
+while he dressed. She showed no sign of doing so. He cleared his throat
+and jerked at his collar nervously.
+
+"Now, now," Venus said sternly. "Don't tell me the presence of your
+Goddess embarrasses you." She raised her head imperiously. "Hurry it
+up."
+
+Very slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was, after all,
+nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a matter of fact, Venus
+ought to be getting used to the sight of him undressing by this time.
+
+Somehow, he finally managed to get the _chiton_ on straight. Venus
+looked him over and nodded her approval.
+
+"Come along now," she said. "They're waiting for us. And one thing:
+don't get nervous, for Hera's sake. You're all right."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure. Perfectly all right. Right as rain."
+
+"Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you'll make a fine
+Dionysus."
+
+She led him toward a wall opposite where the closet had been. As they
+approached it, a section of it became bluer and bluer. With a sinking
+feeling, Forrester told himself that he knew what was coming.
+
+He did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue haze of a Veil of
+Heaven, just like the one that had transported him from New York to his
+present position. Where that was, he wasn't entirely sure, but
+remembering his one look out the window, he suspected it was Mount
+Olympus.
+
+But there wasn't any time for thinking. Venus took his hand coolly as
+they reached the blue haze. Then both of them stepped through.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+The room into which they stepped seemed even larger than the one they
+had left. The distances were just as hard to measure, and why Forrester
+had the feeling, he couldn't have said, but it did feel larger. The
+sense of enormous space hung over it.
+
+The wall colors were just the same, however, dripping and changing in a
+continuous flow of patterns, with the little sunbursts and rainbows
+appearing here and there without any visible reason.
+
+But the room itself was comparatively unimportant, Forrester knew. It
+was what went on in the room that sent shivers up his spine, and
+instructed one knee to start knocking against other one. He had heard of
+the Court of the Gods, though as far as he knew no mortal had ever seen
+it. There were certainly no photographs of it, even in the most
+exhaustive travel books.
+
+Forrester knew without question that he was standing in that Courtroom.
+The knowledge did not make him calm. And the beings sitting and
+reclining on couches along the shimmering walls made him feel even
+worse. He recognized every one of them, and every one sent a new shock
+of awe running through his nerves. His stomach felt like a hard rubber
+handball.
+
+There was Zeus All-Father, with his great, silvery, ringleted beard. His
+hands were combing through it and he was frowning majestically into the
+distance. Next to him was the imperious Hera, Mother of the Gods. She
+sat with her hands folded in her lap, as if she were waiting for the end
+of the world to be announced. There was Mars, tough and hairy-chested,
+scratching his side with one hand and scowling horribly. His fierce,
+bearded face looked somehow out of place without the battle helmet that
+usually topped it. The horned and goat-legged Pan was there, and Vulcan,
+crippled and ugly with his squat body and giant arms, reclining like an
+ape on a couch all alone, and motherly looking Ceres using one hand to
+pat her hair as if she, not Forrester, were the nervous one.
+
+Athena was there, too, lovely and gray-eyed. She seemed to be smiling at
+him with special favor, and Forrester felt grateful.
+
+He needed all the help he could get.
+
+But the other Gods were absent. Where were they? Pluto and Phoebus
+Apollo were missing, and so were Mercury, Neptune, Dionysus and Diana.
+
+And ...
+
+"Ah," the great voice of Zeus boomed, as Forrester and Venus stepped
+through the Veil. Forrester heard the voice and shuddered. "The mortal
+is here," Zeus went on in his awe-inspiring roar. "Welcome, Mortal!"
+
+Forrester opened his mouth, but Hera got in ahead of him.
+
+She leaned over to her divine husband and hissed, in a tone audible to
+everyone in the room: "Don't belabor the obvious, dear. Enough's
+enough."
+
+"It is?" Zeus said. The roar was exactly the same. "I'm not at all sure.
+No! Of course not. Naturally not, my dear. Naturally not." He looked
+around slowly, nodding his great head. "Now, now. Let's see. Do we have
+a quorum? I don't see Morpheus. Where's Morpheus?"
+
+"Asleep, as usual," Mars growled. He finished scratching his side and
+began on his beard. "Where else would the old fool be? He's nothing but
+a bore anyway and I say to Hades with him. Let's get on."
+
+"Now, Ares," Pallas Athena said mildly. "Don't be crude."
+
+"Crude?" Mars bellowed. "All I said was that the old bore's not here.
+It's true, isn't it? What in Hades is so crude about it?"
+
+"Hah!" Vulcan growled, in a bass voice that seemed to come from the
+bottom of a large barrel. "Look who mentions being a bore."
+
+"Why, you--" Mars started.
+
+"Children!" Hera snapped at once.
+
+There was quiet, and Forrester had time to get dizzy. Maybe, he thought,
+he had been traveling too much. After all, he had started in New York,
+and then he had found himself on what he suspected was Mount Olympus, in
+Greece. And now he was somewhere else.
+
+He wasn't entirely sure where. The Court of the Gods existed; he knew
+that. But he had never heard just where it existed, and it was entirely
+possible that no mortal knew. In which case, Forrester thought
+confusedly, I don't even know where I am.
+
+For the first time, he began to think seriously that, perhaps, he was
+sane after all. Maybe everything he was seeing and hearing was true. It
+was certainly beginning to look that way. And, in that case, maybe the
+dizziness he felt was just airsickness, or spacesickness, or whatever
+kind of sickness came from traveling through those blue Veils.
+
+At least, he told himself, thinking of the old man he had met on the way
+downtown, at least it beat the subway.
+
+He looked behind him. He and Venus were standing in the center of the
+room. There was no blue veil behind them. It had, apparently, done its
+duty and gone away.
+
+The subway, Forrester told himself solemnly, didn't do that.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat ponderously. "I count eight of us," he said.
+"Eight, all told. Of course, that's eight without the mortal." He
+paused, and then added: "If you count the mortal in, there are nine."
+
+Pan stirred. "That's a quorum," he announced in a hoarse voice that had
+a heavy vibrato in it. It reminded Forrester, oddly, of the bleating of
+a goat. Pan crossed his legs and his hooves clashed, striking sparks.
+"Pluto and Poseidon said they'd accept our judgment."
+
+"Why the absence?" Vulcan said shortly.
+
+"A storm, I think," Pan said. "Out in the North Atlantic, if memory
+serves--and it does. As far as I recall, there are four ships sunk so
+far. Quite an affair."
+
+Vulcan said: "Ah," and reclined again.
+
+Hera leaned forward. "Where's Apollo? He said he might come."
+
+"Sure he did," Mars said heavily. "Old Sunshine Boy never misses a bit
+of excitement. Only he probably found something even more exciting. He's
+in California, all dressed up as a mortal."
+
+"California?" Ceres said. "My goodness, what would that boy be doing in
+California?"
+
+Mars guffawed. "Probably showing off--how Sunshine Boy loves to show
+off! Displaying that gorgeous body to the girls on Muscle Beach, I'll
+bet."
+
+"Eight to five," Pan said at once.
+
+Mars turned to him and nodded shortly. "Done."
+
+"Now, if I were a betting man," Vulcan began in a thoughtful bass,
+"I'd--"
+
+"We all know what you'd do, Gimpy," Mars roared. "But you won't do it,
+so shut up about it."
+
+"Please," Hera said. "Order." Her voice was like chilled steel. The
+others settled back. "I think we're ready. Shall we begin, dear?" She
+looked at Zeus, who got ready to start. But before he could get a word
+out, there was a flicker of blue energy in the room, a couple of yards
+away from Forrester and Venus. The flicker expanded to a Veil, and a man
+stepped out of it.
+
+He was a short, fat individual wearing a _chiton_ as if he had slept in
+it for three or four weeks. His face was puffy and his golden hair was
+ruffled. His eyelids seemed to have acquired a permanent half-mast, and
+beneath them the eyes were bleary and disinterested.
+
+Forrester needed no introductions to Morpheus, the God of Sleep.
+
+The God looked around at the assembled company with a kindly little
+smile on his tired face. Then, slowly and luxuriously, he yawned. When
+his mouth closed again, after a view of caverns measureless to man, he
+rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, and then heaved a great sigh and,
+apparently, resigned himself to the terrible effort of speech.
+
+"I'm late," he said. "But it's really not my fault."
+
+"Oh?" Hera said in a nasty tone of voice.
+
+Morpheus shook his head slowly from side to side. "It really isn't." His
+voice was terribly calm. It was obvious, Forrester thought, that he did
+not give a damn. "The alarm just didn't seem to go off again. Or else I
+didn't hear it."
+
+"Now, Morpheus," Hera said. "I should think you'd get some kind of alarm
+that really worked, after all this time."
+
+"Why bother?" Morpheus said, and shrugged ponderously. "Anyhow, I'm
+here." He yawned again. "The thing's tiresome, but I did say I'd be
+here, and here I am. Now, does that satisfy everybody? Because if it
+doesn't, I do have some sleep to catch up on."
+
+"It satisfies us all," Hera said with some asperity. "Go sit down."
+
+Morpheus shambled quietly over to a couch near Mars. He lowered himself
+onto it, and slowly slipped from a sitting position to a reclining one.
+
+"Well," Hera said to Zeus, "we're ready, dear."
+
+"Oh," Zeus said. "Oh. Certainly. I declare this meeting--I declare this
+meeting fully met." He cleared his throat with a rumble that shook the
+air. "We're here, as I suppose you all know, to consider the problem of
+William Forrester. But first, I am reminded of a little story I picked
+up on Earth, and in the hopes that some of you here might not have heard
+it, I--"
+
+"We've heard it," Hera said, "and, anyhow, this is neither the time nor
+the place."
+
+Zeus turned to look at her. He shrugged. "Very well," he said equably.
+"Let us return to William Forrester, as a possible substitute for
+Dionysus. The first consideration ought to be the psychological records,
+wouldn't you say?"
+
+"I would," Hera said through her teeth.
+
+"I believe Athena is in charge of that department, and if she is ready
+to report--"
+
+"Of course she's ready," Hera said, "dear."
+
+Zeus nodded. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"
+
+Athena got up and faced the company. "In general," she began at once, "I
+think we can pass the candidate completely on the psychological records.
+The Index of Subordination is low, but we don't want one too high for
+this post. Too, the Beta curve shows a good deal of variation, a
+Dionysian characteristic. There is, perhaps, a stronger sense of
+responsibility than is recorded in the Dionysian index, but this may not
+be a handicap."
+
+"By no means," Hera said. "Responsibility is something we could all do
+with more of, around here." She shot a poisonous glance at Morpheus,
+whose eyes were now completely closed.
+
+Forrester, busily wondering what his Beta curve was, and why it varied,
+and what he would do if he lost it and had to get another one, missed
+the next few words of Athena's report. The word that did impinge on his
+consciousness did so with a shock.
+
+"Sex," Athena said. "But, after all, that is not quite in my
+department." She looked as if she were very glad of the fact. "In
+general, as I say, the psychological tests present no insuperable
+barriers."
+
+"Fine," Hera said. She dug Zeus in the ribs again.
+
+"Oh," Zeus said. "Yes. Fine."
+
+"Next," Hera said.
+
+"Yes," Zeus said. "By all means. Next."
+
+Mars got up. He was now scratching the hair on his chest. He looked
+around at the others with a definitely unfriendly expression.
+
+"The physical department is mine," he said. "The candidate can handle
+himself, all right. There isn't much doubt of it." He burped, wiped his
+mouth with the back of one hand, and went on: "Of course, he's let
+himself run to fat a little here and there, but it isn't really serious.
+Mainly a matter of glandular balance or something like that, as far as I
+understand Hermes' report."
+
+Forrester began to feel like a prize chicken.
+
+"And physical training," Mars said. "Well, there hasn't _been_ any
+training, that's all. And that's bad."
+
+"He is not being considered for your position," Vulcan said. "One
+muscular brainless imbecile is enough."
+
+Mars took a deep breath.
+
+"Please," Hera said. "Continue the report."
+
+The breath came out in an explosion. "All right," Mars said.
+"Discounting the training end of things, and assuming that Hermes can
+fix up the glandular mess, I think he can pass the physical."
+
+Forrester wasn't sure that he liked being referred to as a glandular
+mess. On the other hand, he asked himself, what could he do about it? He
+stood quietly, wondering what was coming next.
+
+His worst fears were fulfilled.
+
+Venus stepped forward and gave her report. Basically, it was a codicil,
+of a rather specialized nature, to the physical report. While it was
+going on, Forrester glanced at Athena. She looked every bit as
+embarrassed as he felt, and her face wore a look of sheer pain. Once he
+thought she was going to leave the room, but she remained grimly seated
+until it was all over.
+
+Forrester couldn't figure out, when he thought about it, how the Gods
+had managed to give him all these tests without his knowing anything
+about it. But, then, they were supernatural, weren't they? And they had
+their own methods. A mortal didn't have to understand them.
+
+Forrester wasn't sure he was happy with that idea, but he clung to it.
+It was the only one he had.
+
+When Venus finished her report, there was a little silence.
+
+"Any other comments?" Hera whispered to her husband.
+
+"Ah, yes," Zeus said. "Other comments. If anyone has any other comments
+to make, please make them now. Now is the time to make them."
+
+He sat back. Morpheus stirred slightly and spoke without opening his
+eyes or sitting up. "Sleep," he said.
+
+Hera said: "Sleep?"
+
+"Very important," Morpheus said slowly, "the candidate sleeps pretty
+well--soundly, as a matter of fact. The only trouble is that he doesn't
+get enough sleep. But then, no one on this entire crazy world ever
+does." He yawned and added: "Not even me."
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. He realized, very suddenly,
+that he had come to a conclusion somewhere during the meeting. He was,
+he told himself, definitely sane.
+
+That left another conclusion. He was not dreaming anything that was
+happening. It was all perfectly real.
+
+And he was about to become a demi-God.
+
+That in itself didn't sound so bad. But he began to wonder, in a quiet
+sort of way, just what was going to happen to William Forrester,
+acolyte and history professor, when Forrester/Bacchus had became a
+reality. With a blunt shock he knew that there was only one answer.
+
+William Forrester was going to die.
+
+It didn't matter what the verdict of the Gods was. There were more tests
+coming, he knew, and if he failed them the Gods would kill him quite
+literally and quite completely.
+
+But, he went on, suppose he passed the tests.
+
+In that case he was going to become Forrester/Bacchus, a substitute God.
+Plain old Bill Forrester would cease to exist entirely.
+
+Oh, a few traces might remain--his Beta curve, for instance, whatever
+that was. But Bill Forrester would be gone. Somehow, the idea of a
+revenant Beta curve didn't make up for the basic loss.
+
+On the other hand, he reminded himself again, what choice did he have?
+
+None.
+
+He forced himself to listen to what the Gods were saying.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat. "Well, I think that closes the subject. Am I
+right, dear?"
+
+"You are," Hera said.
+
+"Very well," Zeus said. "Then the subject is closed, isn't it?"
+
+Hera nodded wearily.
+
+"In that case, we can proceed with the investiture. Hephaestus, will you
+please take charge of the candidate?"
+
+Hephaestus/Vulcan sighed softly. "I suppose I must." He swung off the
+couch and stood half-crouched for a second. Forrester looked at him
+blankly. "Well," Vulcan said, "come on." He jerked his head toward
+Forrester. "Over here."
+
+With one last backward glance at Venus, Forrester walked across the
+room. Vulcan turned and hobbled ahead of him toward the wall. Forrester
+followed until, almost at the wall, a Veil of Heaven appeared. Feeling
+almost used to the thing by now, Forrester followed Vulcan through, and
+he didn't even look behind him to see if the Veil had vanished after
+they'd come through. He knew perfectly well it had. It always did.
+
+The room they had entered was similar to the others he had seen, but
+there was no change of colors. The walls glowed evenly and with a
+subdued light that filled the room evenly. And, for the first time, the
+walls weren't simply blanks that became things only when approached. The
+strangest-looking objects Forrester had ever seen filled benches,
+tables, chairs and the floor, and some were even tacked to the glowing
+walls. He stared at them for a long time.
+
+No two were alike. They seemed to be all sizes, shapes and materials.
+The only thing they really had in common was that they were
+unrecognizable. They looked, Forrester thought, as if a truckload of
+non-objective twentieth-century sculpture had collided with another
+truck full of old television-set innards. Then, in some way, the two
+trucks had fallen in love and had children.
+
+The scrambled horrors scattered throughout the room were, Forrester told
+himself bleakly, the children.
+
+Vulcan sat down on the only empty chair with a sigh. "This is my
+workshop," he announced gravely. "It is not arranged for visitors, nor
+for the curious. I must advise you to touch nothing, if you wish to save
+your hands, your sanity, and very possibly your life."
+
+Forrester nodded dumbly. Vulcan's tone hadn't been unfriendly; he had
+merely been warning a stranger, in the shortest and clearest manner
+possible, against the dangers of feeling the merchandise. Not, Forrester
+thought, that the warning was necessary. He would as soon have thought
+of trying to fly as he would of touching one of the mixed-up looking
+things.
+
+"Now," Vulcan said, "if you'll--" He stopped. "Pardon me," he said, and
+levered himself upright. He went to a chair, swept a few constructions
+from it and put them carefully on a table. "Sit down," he said,
+motioning to the chair.
+
+Gingerly, Forrester sat down.
+
+Vulcan returned to his own chair and climbed onto it. "Now let us get to
+business."
+
+"Business?" Forrester said.
+
+"Oh, yes," Vulcan said. "I imagine you were pretty well bewildered for a
+while. No more than natural. But I think you've figured it out by now.
+You know you are going to be given the powers of a demi-God, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. But--"
+
+"Do not worry about it," Vulcan said. "The powers are--simply powers.
+They are not burdens. At any rate, they will not be burdensome to you.
+We know that--we have researched you to a fine point, as you may have
+gathered from the fol-de-rol back there." He gestured toward his right,
+evidently indicating the Court of the Gods.
+
+"But," Forrester said, "suppose I'm not what your tests say. I mean,
+suppose I--"
+
+"There is no need for supposition. Beyond any shadow of doubt, we know
+how you, as a mortal, will react to any conceivable set of
+circumstances."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "But--"
+
+"Precisely. You have realized what yet needs to be done. We know what
+your abilities and limitations are--_as a mortal_. The tests you have
+yet to pass are concerned with your actions and reactions as a
+demi-God."
+
+Forrester swallowed hard. He felt as if he were on a moving
+roller-coaster. No matter how badly he wanted to get off, it was
+impossible to do so. He had to remain while the car hurtled on.
+
+And where was he going?
+
+The Gods, he told himself with more than ordinary meaning, knew.
+
+"The power which is to be infused into you," Vulcan said, "if you don't
+mind the loose terminology--"
+
+"I don't mind in the least," Forrester assured him earnestly. "Not in
+the least."
+
+"The power infused into you will make some changes. These will not only
+be physical changes. Mental changes must be expected."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Mental changes."
+
+"Correct. Physically, you see, you will become what no mortal can ever
+quite be: a perfectly functioning biological engine. Every sinew, nerve
+and muscle, every organ and gland, every tissue in your body will be in
+perfect harmonic balance with every other. Metabolically speaking, your
+catabolism and anabolism will be in such perfect balance that aging will
+not be possible."
+
+Forrester thought that over. "I'll be immortal," he said.
+
+"In that sense of the word," Vulcan said, "you will. You will be, as a
+matter of fact, quite a good deal tougher, stronger and harder than any
+animal now existing on the face of the Earth. I must except, of course,
+a few of the really big ones, like the elephant and the killer whale."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure."
+
+"But make no mistake. You can still be killed. A bullet through the
+heart will not do the job; it will merely incapacitate you for a few
+hours. But if you were to have your head blown off by a grenade, you
+would be quite dead. Remember that."
+
+"I don't see how I could forget it."
+
+"You will heal with incredible rapidity, but there are limitations.
+Anything that pushes the balance too far will be fatal. You can lose a
+hand or even an arm without serious harm; the missing member will be
+regrown. But if you were to fall into a large meat-grinder--"
+
+"I get the idea," Forrester said, feeling pale green.
+
+"Good," Vulcan said. "However, there is more."
+
+"_More?_"
+
+"There are certain other powers to be given you in addition. You will
+learn of these later."
+
+Forrester nodded blankly.
+
+"Now," Vulcan said, "all these physical changes will have a definite
+effect upon your psychological outlook, as I imagine you can plainly
+see."
+
+Forrester thought about it. "Well--"
+
+"Let us suppose that you are a coward who has avoided fights all his
+life. Now you are given these powers. What will happen?"
+
+"I'll be strong."
+
+"Exactly. You will be strong. And because you are strong, and almost
+indestructible, you suddenly decide that you can now get your revenge on
+the people who have pushed you around."
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "I--"
+
+"You begin to look for fights," Vulcan said. "You go around beating up
+everyone you can find, simply because you now know you can get away with
+it. Do you understand me?"
+
+"I guess so."
+
+"A man with a vicious streak in him would be intolerable in this
+position. Can you see that? Take an example: Ares. Mars is a tough God,
+hard and at times brutal. But he is not vicious."
+
+Forrester was a little surprised to hear Vulcan say anything nice about
+Mars. He knew, as everyone did, the long history of ill-will and
+positive hatred the two had built up between them. It had begun soon
+after Vulcan's marriage to Aphrodite/Venus.
+
+He hadn't been a cripple then, of course. For a while, he and Venus had
+had a fine time. But Venus, apparently, just wasn't satisfied with the
+dull normal routine of married life. None of the Gods seemed to be, as a
+matter of fact. Either they were altogether too married, like Zeus, or
+else they weren't married enough, like Venus. Or else they were like
+Diana and Athena, indifferent to marriage.
+
+At any rate, Venus had begun looking around for fresh talent. And the
+fresh talent had been right there ready to sign up for a long contract
+on a strictly extra-legal basis.
+
+One day Vulcan caught them at it, his wife and Mars. Vulcan was angry,
+but Mars didn't exactly like to be interrupted, either, and he was a
+little faster on the draw. He tossed Vulcan over a nearby cliff,
+crippling him for good.
+
+And as for Aphrodite--who knew? It was entirely possible that, by this
+time, the Goddess of Love had run through the entire list of Gods and
+was now at work on the mortals.
+
+Forrester wasn't entirely sure he disliked the idea, on a simple
+physical level. But there was more than that to it, of course; there was
+Vulcan. Forrester found himself liking the solemn, positive workman. He
+didn't want to hurt him.
+
+And a liaison with Venus was certain to do just that.
+
+He came back to the present to hear Vulcan still discoursing. "Also,"
+the God said, "changes in glandular balance must be made. These changes
+have a necessary effect on the brain. The personality changes subtly,
+though I can assure you that the change is not a marked one." He paused.
+"For all these reasons," he finished, "I am sure that you can see why we
+must subject you to further tests."
+
+"I understand," Forrester said vaguely.
+
+"Good. Now, you will not know whether a given incident--any given
+incident--is a perfectly natural occurrence or a test imposed on you by
+the Pantheon. Can you understand that?"
+
+Forrester nodded.
+
+Vulcan levered himself upright, his ugly face smiling just a little.
+"And remember what I have told you. No worrying. You don't even know
+just what any given test is supposed to accomplish, so you can't know
+whether the action you choose is right or wrong. Therefore, worrying
+will do nothing for you. You will be at your best if you simply behave
+naturally."
+
+"I'll try."
+
+"Remember, also, that you were picked not merely for your physical
+resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well.
+Therefore, playing his part should be comparatively simple for you.
+Right?"
+
+"I guess so," Forrester said, feeling both expectant and a little
+hopeless about it all.
+
+"Fine," Vulcan said. "Now wait one moment." He turned and limped over to
+a structure that looked like a sort of worktable. When he came back, he
+was carrying several objects in his big hands. He selected one, an ovoid
+about the size of a marble, colored a dull orange, and handed it to
+Forrester. "Swallow that."
+
+Forrester took it cautiously. As soon as he found out what he was
+supposed to do with the thing, its dimensions seemed to grow. It looked
+about the size of a golf ball in his shaking hands.
+
+"_Swallow_ it?" he said tentatively.
+
+"Correct," Vulcan said.
+
+"But--"
+
+"This object is a--well, call it a talisman. It will not dissolve, and
+it is recoverable, but for the Investiture it must be inside you."
+
+"But--"
+
+"You will find it so easy to swallow that you will need no water. Go
+ahead."
+
+Forrester put the thing in his mouth and swallowed once, just to test
+Vulcan's statement. The effect was surprising. He could barely feel it
+leave his tongue, and he couldn't feel it go down at all. He swallowed
+again, experimentally, and explored the inside of his mouth with his
+tongue.
+
+"It is gone," Vulcan said. "Good."
+
+"It's gone, all right," Forrester said wonderingly.
+
+"The sandals are next." Vulcan selected a pair of sandals with rather
+thick soles and handed them over. They were apparently made of gold.
+Forrester obediently strapped them on, and Vulcan next handed him a pair
+of golden cylinders indented to fit his curved fingers.
+
+"You hold these very tightly," Vulcan said. "During the Investiture, you
+must grip them as hard as you can." He peered closely at them and
+pointed to one. "This one goes in the left hand. The other goes in the
+right. Squeeze them as if--as if you were trying to crush them. All
+right?"
+
+"All right," Forrester said.
+
+Vulcan nodded. "Good. From this moment on, do exactly as you are told.
+Answer questions truthfully. Keep nothing secret. Remember my
+instructions."
+
+"Right," Forrester said doubtfully.
+
+"Come on," Vulcan said, heading for the wall. The inevitable Veil of
+Heaven appeared, and Forrester followed through it as before.
+
+The room they entered was not, he thought, the same one they had been in
+before. Or, if it was, it had changed a great deal. It was difficult to
+tell anything for sure; the shifting walls looked the same, but they
+also looked like the shifting walls in Venus' apartments.
+
+At any rate, there were now no couches on the floor. The room seemed
+even bigger than before, and when the walls settled down to a steady
+golden glow, Forrester felt lost in the immensity of the place. In the
+center of the room was a raised golden dais. It was about five feet
+across and nearly three feet high.
+
+The Gods were ranged around it in a semicircle, facing him. Vulcan
+slipped into an empty space in the line, and Forrester stood perfectly
+alone, holding the cylinders.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat. "Step up on the dais," he said.
+
+Stumbling slightly, Forrester managed to do so without losing his grip
+on the cylinders.
+
+In the center of the raised platform, with the Gods staring at him, he
+felt like something under a microscope.
+
+"William Forrester," Zeus said, and he shuddered. The All-Father's voice
+had never been more powerful. "William Forrester, from this moment
+onward you will renounce your present name. You will be known as
+Dionysus the Lesser until and unless it shall please us to confer
+another name on you. Henceforth, you will be, in part, a recipient of
+the worship due to Dionysus, and you will hold the rank of demi-God. Do
+you accept these judgments and this honor?"
+
+Forrester gulped. A long time seemed to pass. At last he found his
+voice. "I do," he said.
+
+"Very well," Zeus said.
+
+The Gods joined hands and closed the circle around Forrester,
+surrounding him completely. The golden auras that shone about their
+bodies grew more and more bright. Forrester clutched the golden
+cylinders tightly.
+
+Then, very suddenly, there was an explosion of light. Forrester thought
+he had staggered, but he was never sure. Everything was too bright to
+see. Dizziness began, and grew.
+
+The room whirled and tipped. Somewhere a great organlike note began, and
+went on and on.
+
+Forrester convulsed with the force of a single great burst of energy
+that crashed through his nervous system.
+
+And then, in a timeless instant, everything went black.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+
+The morning of the Autumn Bacchanal dawned bright and clear--thanks to
+the intervention of the Pantheon. In New York, the leaves were only just
+beginning to turn, and the sun was still high enough in the sky to make
+the afternoons warm and pleasant. Zeus All-Father had promised good
+weather for the festival, and a strong, warm wind from the Gulf of
+Mexico was moving out the crisp autumn air before the sun had risen an
+hour above the horizon.
+
+The practicing that had gone on in thousands of homes throughout the
+city was at an end. The Autumn Bacchanal was here at last, and the
+Beginning Service, which had started in the little Temple-on-the-Green
+right at dawn, when the sun's rays had first touched the tops of New
+York's towers, was approaching its end. The people clustered in the
+building, and the incomparably greater number scattered outside it, were
+feeling the first itch of restlessness.
+
+Soon the Grand Procession would begin, starting as always from the
+Temple-on-the-Green and wending its slow way northward to the upper end
+of Central Park at 110th Street. Then the string of worshippers would
+turn and head back for the Temple at the lower end of the Park, with
+fanfare and pageantry on a scale calculated to do honor to the God of
+the festival, to outshine not only every other festival, but every past
+year of the Autumn Bacchanal itself.
+
+The Autumn Bacchanal was devoted to the celebration of the harvest, and
+more specifically the harvest and processing of the grape. All the
+wineries for hundreds of miles around had shipped hogshead after
+hogshead and barrel after barrel of fine wine--red, white, rose, still,
+or sparkling--as joyous sacrifice to Dionysus/Bacchus, and in thanks
+that the fertility rites of the Vernal Bacchanal had brought them good
+crops. Wine flowed from everywhere into the city, and now the immense
+reserves were stacked away, awaiting the revels. Even the brewers and
+distillers had sent along their wares, from the mildest beer to vodka of
+120 proof, joining unselfishly in the celebration even though,
+technically, they were not under Dionysian protection at all, but were
+the wards of Ceres, the Goddess of grain.
+
+Celebrants, liquors, chants, preparations, balloons, confetti, edibles
+and all the other appurtenances of the festival spiraled dizzyingly
+upward, reaching proportions unheard of throughout history. And, in a
+back room at the Temple-on-the-Green, the late William Forrester sat,
+trying to forget all about them, and suffering from a continuous case of
+nerves.
+
+Diana marched up and down in front of him, smacking her left fist into
+her calloused little right palm. "Now listen," she said crisply. "I know
+you're all hot and bothered, kid, but there's no reason to be. You're
+doing fine. They love you out there."
+
+"Sure I am," Forrester said, unconvinced.
+
+"Well, you are," Diana said. "You just got to have confidence, that's
+all. Keep your spirits up. Tried singing?"
+
+"Singing?"
+
+"Singing, kid. Raises the spirits."
+
+Forrester blinked. "Really?"
+
+"Take it from me," Diana said. "How about Tenting Tonight?"
+
+"How about what?"
+
+"Tenting Tonight," Diana said. "You know."
+
+"I--guess I do." Forrester wished that Diana would do more than treat
+him like a pal. She was a remarkably beautiful woman, if you liked the
+type, and Forrester liked virtually any type.
+
+Now, success appeared to be within his grasp. But it did seem an odd
+time to bring the subject up. Oh, well, he thought, maybe she was just
+trying to cheer him up and had picked this way of doing it.
+
+It worked, too, he told himself happily.
+
+He cleared his throat. "Where?"
+
+Diana stared. "Where?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said. Something was going wrong but he
+couldn't discover what it was. "The tenting."
+
+"Oh," Diana said. "Right here. Now. Raises the spirits."
+
+"I should say it does!" Forrester agreed enthusiastically. "But after
+all--right here--"
+
+"Don't worry about it, kid. Nobody will hear you."
+
+"_Hear_ me?"
+
+"Anyway, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people do it when they
+feel low."
+
+"I'll bet they do," Forrester said. "But it's different with you and
+me."
+
+"Me?" Diana said. "What do I have to do with it? I just told you--"
+
+"Well, sure. And here and now is as good a time and place as any."
+
+Diana stepped back a pace. "Okay, let's hear it. Sing!"
+
+"Sing? You mean I have to sing for my--"
+
+"I'll join you," Diana said.
+
+Forrester nodded. He was beginning to get confused. "You'd better," he
+said.
+
+"_Tenting tonight on the old camp grounds_," she sang. "Now come on."
+
+Forrester coughed. "Oh," he said. "Sing."
+
+"Sure," Diana said, and they went through the song together. "How about
+another chorus?" she asked.
+
+"It's all right, Diana," Forrester said, knowing she preferred the name
+to her Greek one of Artemis. "I feel fine now."
+
+"Well," Diana said in a disappointed voice, "all right."
+
+What surprised Forrester most was that he _did_ feel fine. All the Gods
+had helped him in the past several months, but Diana had been especially
+helpful. As a forest Goddess, and as Protectress of the Night, she'd
+been able to tell him a lot about how an orgy was arranged. He had often
+wished that she would teach by example, but now, he discovered, it was
+too late for wishing.
+
+She was, he told himself with only faint regret, just like a sister to
+him. Or even a brother.
+
+"I guess everything will be okay," he said. "Won't it?"
+
+Diana clapped him on the back. "You're going to be great. Just go out
+there and show 'em what kind of a God you are."
+
+"But what kind of a God am I?"
+
+"Just keep cool, kid. You won't fail me--I know it."
+
+"I'll try," Forrester said. "Only I'm getting nervous just sitting
+around here. I wish we could go out and stroll around; we've got plenty
+of time, anyhow."
+
+Diana nodded. "It's ten minutes yet before the Procession starts. I
+suppose we might as well take a look around, kid, if it makes you feel
+better."
+
+"It might."
+
+"Fine, then. But how do you want to go?"
+
+Forrester blinked. "How?"
+
+"Invisibility," Diana said, "or incognito?"
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. Then he added: "You're asking me?"
+
+"Of course I am, kid. Now, look: this is your celebration, remember?
+You're Dionysus. Got it? Even in my presence, you act the part now. You
+ought to know that."
+
+"Well, sure, but--"
+
+"Keep this in mind. These people haven't had a Sabbatical Bacchanal in
+seven years. Every seven years they get to see their God--and this year
+you're it. Right?"
+
+"I guess so. But--"
+
+"No buts," Diana said. "You're the boss and they're your worshippers.
+That's all there is to it. Now, you've got to make up your mind. What'll
+it be?"
+
+Forrester thought. "Well," he said at last, "I guess it had better be
+incognito. With this crowd, there's too much likelihood of getting
+bumped into if we're invisible. Right?"
+
+Diana grinned. "That's the boy! You're thinking straight now!"
+
+Forrester had the sudden feeling that he had just passed another test.
+But he didn't quite dare ask about it "All right," he said instead.
+"Let's go."
+
+He put his mind to work concentrating on the special faculties that his
+demi-God power gave him. His face began to change. He looked less and
+less like Dionysus as the seconds went by, and more and more like
+William Forrester. At the same time, the golden aura around his body
+began to fade. After a few minutes he looked like William Forrester
+completely, a nice enough guy but pretty much of a nonentity.
+
+Diana, with the greater power of a true Goddess, achieved the same sort
+of result almost instantly. Her aura was gone and the sparkle had left
+her eyes. Her brown hair looked a little mousy now, and her face was
+merely pretty instead of being gloriously beautiful.
+
+"Just one thing," Forrester said. "We'd better make ourselves invisible
+just to leave the Temple. Somebody might suspect we weren't ordinary
+people at all."
+
+"Right again," Diana smiled. She nodded her head and blinked out.
+
+Forrester could still see a cloudy outline of her in the room, but he
+knew that was because he was a demi-God, with special powers. An
+ordinary mortal, he knew, would see nothing at all.
+
+He followed her into invisibility and walked out the back door of the
+Temple-on-the-Green. The door was open and two Temple Myrmidons, wearing
+the golden grape-clusters of Dionysus on their shoulder patches, stood
+outside the door. Neither of them saw Forrester and Diana leave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three minutes later, they were standing near the doorway of the Temple,
+watching the preparations for the Grand Procession. The fifty priests of
+Dionysus gathered there while the enormous crowd pushed and shoved to
+get a better view of the ritual. The sacrifice of the first fruits had
+been completed, and now, at the door of the Temple, each of the fifty
+priests filled a chalice from a huge hogshead of purple wine.
+
+They chanted a prayer in unison and spilled half the wine on the ground
+as a libation. Then they lifted the chalices to their lips and drank,
+finishing the other half in one long motion.
+
+The chalices were set down, and a cheer rose from the crowd.
+
+The Bacchanal had begun!
+
+The priests separated into two equal groups. Twenty-five of them started
+northward, marching to their positions at regularly spaced intervals in
+the procession. The remaining twenty-five stayed behind, ready to
+accompany Dionysus himself at the tail of the parade.
+
+Each of the other Gods was represented by a special detachment of ten
+Myrmidons, each contingent wearing the distinctive shoulder patch of the
+God it served: the thunderbolt of Zeus, the blazing sun of Apollo, the
+pipes of Pan, the sword of Mars, the hammer of Vulcan, the poppy of
+Morpheus, the winged foot of Mercury, the trident of Neptune, the
+cerberus of Pluto, the peacock of Hera, the owl of Athena, the dove of
+Venus, the crescent of Diana, and the sprig of wheat that represented
+Mother Ceres. The Myrmidons grinned in expectation of the good times
+coming; a Dionysian festival was always something special, and
+competition for the contingents was always tough.
+
+There were balloons everywhere, as the crowd shoved and pushed into the
+line of march. Someone was bawling an old song about the lack of liquor,
+and the strident voice carried over the shouts and halloos of the mob:
+
+"_How dry I am--_"
+
+Forrester and Diana, now visible, pushed their way through the crowds. A
+man flung his arm around the Goddess with abandon, shouting something
+indistinguishable; Diana shook him off gently and went on. Forrester
+almost tripped over a small boy sitting on the grass and crying. A
+Myrmidon was standing over him, and the child's mother was trying to
+lift the boy.
+
+"I wanna go to the orgy," the boy kept saying. "I wanna go to the orgy."
+
+"Next year," the mother told him. "Next year, child, when you're six."
+
+The Myrmidon lifted the child and carried him away. The mother shouted
+an address after him, and the Myrmidon nodded, pushed his way through a
+gesticulating group of celebrants and disappeared in the direction of
+Central Park West. There, other Dionysian Myrmidons were patrolling,
+making sure that no non-Dionysian got in except by special invitation.
+Any non-Dionysian who wanted to celebrate was supposed to do it on the
+streets of the city, and not in Central Park, which was going to be
+crowded enough with legitimate revelers.
+
+The shouting and screaming went on, people pushing and shoving, confetti
+beginning to drift like a light snow over the worshippers. One man held
+five balloons and a cigarette, and he was popping the balloons with the
+cigarette tip, one by one. Every time one of the balloons exploded, a
+group of women and girls around him shrieked and laughed.
+
+Forrester turned back. Behind a convenient bush, he and Diana made
+themselves invisible again, and re-entered the Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+The silence inside the Temple was deafening.
+
+"The noise out there could break eardrums," Forrester complained. "I've
+never heard anything like it."
+
+"Just wait," Diana told him. "The music will start any time now--and
+then you'll _really_ hear something." She paused. "Ready?"
+
+Forrester glanced down at himself. "I guess so. How do I look?" He had
+constructed a golden _chiton_ and mentally clothed himself in it. It was
+covered by a grape-purple cloak embroidered with golden grapevines. And
+around his head a circlet of woven grapevines had appeared, made of
+solid gold. It was a little heavier than Forrester had expected it would
+be, but it lent him, he thought, rather a dashing air.
+
+"Great," Diana said. "Just great."
+
+"Think so?" Forrester said, feeling rather pleased.
+
+"Sure you do. Now go out there and give 'em the old college try."
+
+Forrester gulped. "How about you?"
+
+"Me? I'm on my way out of here. This is your show, kid. Make the most of
+it."
+
+Forrester watched her go out the rear door. He was alone. And the Autumn
+Bacchanal Processional was about to begin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+
+Noise! Forrester, seated in the great golden palanquin supported by
+twelve hefty Priests of Dionysus, had never seen or heard anything like
+it. He waited there on the steps of the little Temple-on-the-Green for
+the Procession to wind by, so that he could take his place at the end of
+it. But the Procession looked endless.
+
+First came a corps of Priests and Myrmidons, leading their way stolidly
+through the paths of Central Park. Following them came the revelers, a
+mass of men and women marching, laughing, singing, shouting, dancing
+their way along to the accompaniment of more music than Forrester had
+ever dreamed of.
+
+The Dionysians had practiced for months, and almost everything was
+represented. There were violinists prancing along, violists and a crew
+of long-haired gentlemen and ladies playing the viol da gamba and the
+viol d'amore; there were guitarists plunking madly away, banjo players
+strumming and ukelele addicts picking at their strings, somehow all
+chorusing together. In a special pair of floats there were bass players,
+bass fiddle players and cellists, jammed tightly together and somehow
+managing to draw enormous sounds and scratches out of the big
+instruments. And behind them came the main band of musicians.
+
+The woodwinds followed: piccolo players piping, flutists fluting, oboe
+players, red-cheeked and glassy-eyed, concentrating on making the most
+piercing possible sounds, men playing English horns, clarinets, bass
+clarinets, bassoons and contra-bassoons, along with men playing serpents
+and, behind them, a dancing group fingering ocarinas and adding their
+bit to the general tumult, and two women tootling madly away on
+hoarse-sounding zootibars.
+
+And then, near the center of the musicians, were the brass: trumpets and
+trumpets-a-piston, trombones and valve trombones and Fulk horns, all
+blatting away to split the sky with maddening sound, Sousaphones and
+saxophones and French horns and bass horns and hunting horns, and tubas
+along in their own little cart, six round-cheeked men lost in the curves
+of the great instruments, valiantly blowing away as they rolled by into
+the woods of the park, making the city itself resound with tremendous
+noise and shattering cadence. And behind them was the battery.
+
+Kettle drums, bass drums, xylophones, Chinese gongs, vibraphones, snare
+drums and high-hat cymbals paraded by in carts, banged and stroked and
+tinkled enthusiastically by crew after crew of maddened tympanists. And
+then came the others, on foot: tambourines and wood blocks and parade
+cymbals and castanets. At the tail of this portion of the Procession
+came a single old man wearing spectacles and riding in a small cart
+drawn by a donkey. He had white hair and he was playing on a series of
+water-glasses filled to various levels. His ear was cocked toward the
+glasses with painstaking care. He was entirely inaudible in the general
+din, but he looked happy and satisfied; he was doing his bit.
+
+After him followed a group of entirely naked men and women playing
+sackbuts, and another group playing recorders. Bringing up the rear, as
+the Procession curved, was a magnificent aggregation of men and women
+yowling away on bagpipes of all shapes and sizes. All of the men wore
+sporrans and nothing more; the women wore nothing at all. The music that
+emanated from this group was enough to unhinge the mind.
+
+And then came the keyboard instruments, into the middle of which the
+five theremin-players had been stuck for no reason at all. The strange
+howls of this unearthly instrument filtered through the sound of pianos,
+harpsichords, psalters, clavichords, virginals and three gigantic
+electric organs pumping at full strength.
+
+And bringing up the very rear of the Procession was a special decorated
+cart, full of color and holding a lone man with long white hair, wearing
+a rusty black suit and playing away, with great attention and care, on
+the largest steam calliope Forrester had ever met. Jets of steam fizzed
+out of the top, and music bawled from the interior of the massive thing
+as it went by, trailing the Procession into the woods, and the entire
+aggregation swung into a single song, hundred upon hundreds of musicians
+and singers all coming down hard on the opening strains of the Hymn to
+Dionysus:
+
+    "_Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord who rules the wine--
+    He has trampled out the vintage of the grapes upon the vine!_"
+
+The twelve Priests picked up the palanquin and Forrester adjusted his
+weight so they wouldn't find it too heavy. It was impossible to think in
+the mass of noise and music that went on and on, as the Procession wound
+uptown through the paths of Central Park, and the musicians banged and
+scraped and blew and pounded and stroked and plucked, and the great Hymn
+rose into the air, filling the entire city with the bawled chorus as
+even the twelve Priests joined in, adding to the ear-splitting din:
+
+    "_Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    While his wine goes flowing on!_"
+
+Forrester had always been disturbed by what he thought might have been a
+double meaning in that last line, but it didn't disturb him now. Nothing
+seemed to disturb him as the Procession wound on, and he was laughing
+uproariously and winking and nodding at his worshippers as they sang and
+played all around him, and the hours went by. Halfway there, he fished
+in the air and brought down the small golden disks with the picture of
+Dionysus on them that were a regular feature of the Processional, and
+flung them happily into the crowd ahead.
+
+Only one was allowed per person, so there was not much scrambling, but
+some of the coins pattered down on the various instruments, and one
+landed in the old gentleman's middle-C water glass and had to be fished
+out before he could go on with the Hymn.
+
+Carousing and noisy, the Procession finally reached the huge stand at
+the far end of the park, and the music stopped. On the stand was a whole
+new group of musicians: harpists, lyrists, players of the flageolet and
+dulcimer, two men sweating over glockenspiels, a group equipped with
+zithers and citharas and sitars, three women playing nose-flutes, two
+men with shofars, and a tall, blond man playing a clarino trumpet. As
+the Procession ground to a halt, this new band struck up the Hymn again,
+played it through twice, and then stopped.
+
+Seven girls filed out onto the platform in front of the musicians. One
+was there representing every year since the last Sabbatical Bacchanal.
+Forrester, riding high on the palanquin, beamed down at them, roaring
+with happy laughter. They were all for him. Having been carried to one
+end of the park in triumph, he was now to march back at the head of his
+people, surrounded by seven of the most beautiful girls in New York.
+
+Their final selection had been left, he knew, to a brewery which had
+experience in these matters. And the girls certainly looked like the
+pick of anybody's crop. Forrester beamed at them again, stood up in the
+palanquin and spread his arms wide.
+
+Then he sprang. In a flying leap, he went high into the air and did a
+full somersault, landing on his toes on the stage, twenty-five feet
+away. The girls were kneeling in a circle around him.
+
+"Come, my doves!" he bellowed. "Come, my pigeons!" His Godlike golden
+baritone carried for blocks.
+
+He grabbed the two nearest girls by their hands and helped them to their
+feet. They blushed and lowered their eyes.
+
+"Come, all of you!" Forrester shouted. "We are about to begin the
+revels!"
+
+The girls rose and Forrester gestured them in closer. Then, surrounded
+by all seven, he threw back his head again.
+
+"A revel to make history!" he roared. "A revel beyond the imagination of
+man! A revel fit for your God!"
+
+The crowd cheered wildly. Forrester picked up one of the girls, tossed
+her into the air and caught her easily as she descended. He set her on
+her feet and put his hands solidly on his hips.
+
+"My cup!" he shouted. "Fill you my cup!"
+
+Behind the stage was a corps of Priests guarding a mountainous golden
+hogshead of wine, adjudged the finest wine produced during the year.
+
+"We shall have drink!" Forrester shouted. "We shall let the revels roar
+on!"
+
+Two priests came forward, staggering under the weight of a gigantic
+crystal goblet containing fully two gallons of the clear purple liquid.
+They bore it to Forrester with great pomp, and before them came a dozen
+players on the gahoon and the contra-gahoon, making Forrester's ears
+ring with deafening fanfares.
+
+Forrester took the great goblet in one hand and held it with ease. Then
+he lifted it into the air with a wordless shout, filled his lungs and
+laughed. He put the goblet to his lips and drained it in a single long
+motion. A mighty hurrah shook the trees and rocks of the park.
+
+Forrester waved the goblet. "Again. Fill you my cup once more!" He
+embraced the seven girls with one sweeping gesture of his arms. "My
+little beauties must have drink! Fill you the cup!"
+
+He passed it back to the Priests carefully. They received it and went
+back to where the others were waiting to fill it. Then they staggered
+forward again and Forrester picked up the brimming goblet. He held it
+for the girls, each of whom tried to outdrink the others. But it was
+still more than half-full when they were finished.
+
+Forrester raised it again. The crowd shouted. "Observe your God!"
+Forrester roared. "Observe his powers!" He threw his head back and
+emptied the goblet. Then, holding it in one hand, he faced the
+assemblage and delivered himself of one Godlike belch.
+
+The crowd shrieked its approval. Forrester had the goblet filled once
+more and put three of the girls in charge of it. Then he came down the
+steps from the platform and began the long march back to the
+Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+The shouting, carousing revelers followed him joyfully. Halfway back,
+one of them stumbled forward and caught at the trailing edge of his
+robe. There was an immediate crackle and burst of static electricity,
+and the stumbler fell back yelping and shaking his arms. The Myrmidons
+came and took him away.
+
+Dionysus couldn't be touched by anyone except those authorized to do
+so--the seven girls and the Priests. But Forrester barely noticed the
+accident; he was too happy on top of his world, laughing and hugging the
+girls close to him.
+
+Behind him, the Priests at the golden hogshead, now set free to taste
+the wine themselves, had lost no time. They were dipping in busily with
+their own goblets--a good deal smaller than the two-gallon crystal one
+for Dionysus himself. There was not even any need for libations; enough
+ran over the brimming edges of the goblets to take care of that detail,
+and the Priests were soon well on the way to becoming sozzled.
+
+The musicians, now joined by the corps which had waited on the uptown
+stage, struck up a new tune, and drowned out even the shouting crowds as
+they cheered their God. After a little while, the crowds began to sing
+along with the magnificent noise:
+
+    "_Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,
+    Around the goblet--around the goblet--
+    Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,
+    And we'll all get--stinking drunk!_"
+
+It was by no means an official hymn, but Forrester didn't mind; it was
+sung with such a great deal of honest enthusiasm. He himself did not
+join in the singing; he was otherwise occupied. With his arms around two
+of the girls, drinking now and then from the great goblet three more
+were holding, and winking and laughing at the extra two, he made his
+joyous way down the petal-strewn paths of Central Park.
+
+The Procession wound down through the paths, over bridges and under
+tunnels, singing and playing and marching and dancing madly, while
+Forrester, at its head, caroused as merrily as any four of them. They
+reached a bridge crossing a little stream and Forrester sprang at it
+with a great somersaulting leap that carried the two girls he was
+holding right along with him. He set them down at the slope of the
+bridge, laughing and giggling and the other girls, with the Procession
+behind them, soon caught up. Forrester let go of one of the girls,
+grabbed the goblet with his free hand and swung it in a magnificent
+gesture.
+
+"Forward!" he cried.
+
+The Procession surged over the bridge, Forrester at its head. He grabbed
+the girl again, handing the goblet back to his corps of three carriers,
+and bowed and grinned at his worshippers behind him, surging forward,
+and at some others standing under the bridge, ankle-deep, shin-deep,
+even knee-deep in the rushing water, craning their necks upward to get a
+really good view of their God as he passed over. There were over a
+hundred of them there.
+
+Forrester didn't see a hundred of them.
+
+He saw one of them first, and then two more. And time seemed to stop
+with a grinding halt. Forrester wanted to run and hide. He clutched the
+girls closer to him with one instinctive gesture, and then realized he'd
+made the wrong move. But it was too late. He was lost, he told himself
+dolefully. The sun had gone out, the wine had lost its power and the
+celebration had degenerated to a succession of ugly noises.
+
+The first face he saw belonged to Gerda Symes.
+
+In that timeless instant, Forrester felt that he could see every detail
+of the soft, small face, the dark hair, the slim, curved figure. She was
+smiling up at him, but her face looked a little bewildered, as if she
+were smiling only because it was the thing to do. Forrester wondered,
+panic-stricken, how she, an Athenan, had managed to get entry to a
+Dionysian revel--but his wonder only lasted for a second. Then he saw
+the second and third faces, and he knew.
+
+The second face belonged to an absolute stranger. He looked like an
+oafish clod, even viewed objectively, and Forrester was making no
+efforts in that direction. He had one arm around Gerda's waist and he
+was grinning up at her, and, sideways, at Forrester with a look that
+made them co-conspirators in what was certainly planned to be Gerda's
+seduction. Forrester didn't like the idea. As a matter of fact, he hated
+it more than he could possibly say.
+
+But all he could do was trust to Gerda's own doubtless sterling good
+sense. She couldn't possibly prefer a lout like her current escort to
+good old Bill Forrester, could she?
+
+On the other hand, she thought Bill Forrester was dead. She'd had to
+think that; when he became Dionysus the Lesser, he couldn't just
+disappear. He had to die officially--and, as far as Gerda knew, the
+death wasn't just an official formality.
+
+With Bill Forrester dead, then, had she turned to the oaf for comfort?
+He didn't look very comforting, Forrester thought. He looked like a
+damned outrage on the face of the Earth. Forrester disliked him on first
+sight, and knew perfectly well that any future sights would only
+increase the dislike.
+
+It was the third face, though that explained everything.
+
+The third face was as unmistakable as Gerda's, though in an entirely
+different way. It was fleshy and pasty, and it belonged, of course, to
+Gerda's lovable brother Ed. Forrester saw everything in one flash of
+understanding.
+
+Ed Symes obviously had enough pull to get his sister invited to the
+Bacchanal. And from the looks of Gerda, he hadn't let the matter rest
+there. She was holding a half-filled plastic mug of wine in one hand--a
+mug with the picture of Dionysus stamped on it, which for some reason
+increased Forrester's outrage--and she was trying her best to look as if
+she were reveling.
+
+From the looks of her, Ed had managed to get her about eight inches this
+side of half-pickled. And from the horribly cheerful look on Ed's
+countenance, he wasn't about to stop at the half-pickled mark, either.
+
+Of course, from Ed's point of view--and Forrester told himself sternly
+that he had to be fair about this whole thing--from Ed's point of view
+there was nothing wrong in what was happening. He wanted to cheer Gerda
+up (undoubtedly the news of the Forrester demise had been quite a shock
+to her, poor girl), and what better way than to introduce her to his own
+religion, the best of all possible religions? The Autumn Bacchanal must
+have looked like the perfect time and place for that introduction, and
+Gerda's escort, a friend of Ed's--somehow Forrester had to think of him
+as Ed's friend; it was clearly not possible that he was Gerda's--had
+been brought along to help cheer the girl up and show her the advantages
+of worshipping Dionysus.
+
+Unfortunately, the advantages hadn't turned out to be all that had been
+expected of them. Because now Gerda had seen Forrester alive and--
+
+Wait a minute, Forrester told himself.
+
+Gerda hadn't seen William Forrester at all.
+
+She had seen just what she expected to see; Dionysus, God of Wine. There
+was no reason for him to shrink from her, or try to hide. Just because
+he was walking along with seven beautiful girls, drinking about sixteen
+times the consumption of any normal right-thinking fish, and carousing
+like the most unprincipled of men, he didn't have to be ashamed of
+himself.
+
+He was only doing his job.
+
+And Gerda did not know that he wasn't Dionysus.
+
+The thought made him feel a little better, but it saddened him, too,
+just a bit. He set himself grimly and shouted: "Forward!" once more. To
+his own ears, his voice lacked conviction, but the crowd didn't seem to
+notice. The cheered frantically. Forrester wished they would all go
+away.
+
+He started forward. His foot found a large pebble that hadn't been
+there before, and he performed the magnificent feat of tripping on it.
+He flailed the air frantically, and managed to regain his balance. Then
+he was back on his feet, clutching at the girls. His big left toe hurt,
+but he ignored the agony bravely.
+
+He had to think of something to do, and fast. The crowd had seen him
+stumble--and that just didn't happen to a God. It wouldn't have happened
+to him, either except for Gerda.
+
+He got his mind off Gerda with an effort and thought about what to do to
+cover his slip. In a moment he had it. He swore a great oath, empurpling
+the air. Then he bent down and picked up the stone. He held it aloft for
+a second, and then threw it. Slowly and carefully he pointed his index
+finger at it, extending it and raising his thumb like a little boy
+playing Stick-'Em-Up.
+
+"_Zap_," he said mildly, cocking the thumb forward.
+
+A crackling, searing bolt of blue-white energy leaped out of the tip of
+his index finger in a pencil-thin beam. It sped toward the falling
+pebble, speared it and wrapped it in coruscating splendor. Then the
+pebble exploded, scattering into a fine display of flying dust.
+
+The crowd stopped moving and singing immediately.
+
+Only the musicians, too intent on their noisemaking to see what had gone
+on, went on playing. But the crowd, having seen Forrester's display and
+heard his oath, was as silent as a collection of statues. When a God
+became angry, each was obviously thinking, there was absolutely no
+telling what was going to happen. Foxholes, some of them might have told
+themselves, would definitely be a good idea. But, of course, there
+weren't any foxholes in Central Park. There was nothing to do but stand
+very still, and hope you weren't noticed, and hope for the best.
+
+Even Gerda, Forrester saw, had stopped, her face still, her hand lifted
+in a half-finished wave, the plastic cup forgotten.
+
+_I've got to do something_, Forrester thought. _I can't let this kind of
+thing go on._
+
+He thought fast, spun around and pointed directly at Ed Symes, standing
+in the water below the bridge.
+
+"You, there!" he bellowed.
+
+Symes turned a delicate fish-belly white. Against this basic color, his
+pimples stood out strongly, making, Forrester thought, a rather unusual
+and somewhat striking effect. The man looked as if he wished he could
+sink out of sight in the ankle-deep water.
+
+His mouth opened two or three times. Forrester waited, getting a good
+deal of pleasure out of the simple sight. Finally Symes spoke. "Me?"
+
+"Certainly you! You look like a tough young specimen."
+
+Symes tried to grin. The effect was ghastly. "I do?" He said
+tentatively.
+
+"Of course you do. Your God tells you so. Do you doubt him?"
+
+"Doubt? No. Absolutely not. Never. Wouldn't think of it. Tough young
+specimen. That's what I am. Tough. And young. Tough young specimen.
+Certainly. You bet."
+
+"Good," Forrester said. "Now let's see you in action."
+
+Symes took a deep breath. He seemed to be savoring it, as if he thought
+it was going to be his very last. "Wh--what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to pick up another stone and throw it. Let's see how high
+you can get it."
+
+Symes was obviously afraid to move from his spot in the water. Instead
+of going back to the land, he fished around near his feet and finally
+managed to come up with a pebble almost as big as his fist. He looked at
+it doubtfully.
+
+"Throw!" Forrester said in a voice like thunder.
+
+Symes, galvanized, threw. It flew up in the air. Forrester drew a
+careful bead on it, went _zap_ again with the pointed finger, and
+blasted the rock into dust.
+
+The silence hung on.
+
+Forrester laughed. "Not a bad throw for a mortal! And a good trick,
+too--a fine display!" He faced the crowd. "Now, there--what do you say
+to the entertainment your God provides? Wasn't that _fun_?"
+
+Well, naturally it was, if Dionysus said so. A great trick, as a matter
+of fact. And a perfectly wonderful display. The crowd agreed
+immediately, giving a long rousing cheer. Forrester waved at them, and
+then turned to a squad of Myrmidons standing nearby.
+
+"Go to that man and his friends!" he shouted, noticing that Symes's
+knees had begun to shake.
+
+The Myrmidons obeyed.
+
+"See that they follow near me. Allow them to remain close to me at all
+times--I may need a good stone-thrower later!"
+
+Gerda, her brother and the oaf without a name were rounded up in a
+hurry, and soon found themselves being hustled along, willy-nilly, out
+of the water, up onto the bridge and into Dionysus' van, where they
+followed in the wake of the God, in front of the rest of the Procession.
+Of the three, Forrester noted, Gerda was the only one who didn't seem to
+think the invitation a high honor. The sight gave him a kind of hope.
+
+_And at least_, he thought, _I can keep an eye on her this way_.
+
+The Procession wended its way on, bending slowly southward toward the
+little Temple-on-the-Green again. The musicians played energetically,
+switching now from the hymn to their unofficial little ditty. Some
+switched before others, some switched after, and some never bothered to
+switch at all. The battery, caught between the opposing claims of two
+perfectly good songs and a lot of extraneous matter, filled in as best
+they could with a good deal of forceful banging and pounding, aided by
+the steam calliope, and the result of all effort was a growing cacophony
+that should have been terribly unpleasant but somehow wasn't.
+
+The shouting of the crowd, joking and singing, may have had something to
+do with it; nothing was clearly distinguishable, but the general feeling
+was that a lot of noise was being produced, and that was all to the
+good. Noise could have been packaged by the board foot and sold in
+quantities sufficient to equip every town meeting throughout the country
+in full for seven years, and there would have been enough left over,
+Forrester thought, to provide for the subways, the classrooms, the
+offices and even a couple of really top-grade traffic jams.
+
+Gerda and the others of her party marched quietly. Ed, Forrester
+noticed, tried a few cheers, but he got cold stares from his sister and
+soon desisted. The oaf shambled along, his arm no longer around Gerda's
+waist. This pleased Forrester no end, and he was in quite a happy mood
+by the time the Procession reached the Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+He was so happy that he performed his atoning high jump once again, this
+time with a double somersault and a jack-knife thrown in, just to make
+things interesting, and landed gently, feeling positively exhilarated
+and very Godlike, on the roof of the Temple.
+
+As the Procession straggled in, the music stopped. Forrester cleared his
+throat and shouted in his most penetrating roar to the silent
+assemblage: "Hear me!"
+
+The crowd stirred, looked up and paid him the most rapt attention.
+
+"On with the revels!" he roared. "Let the dancing begin! Let my wine
+flow like the streams of the park! Let joy be unrestrained!"
+
+He stood on the roof then, watching the crowd begin to disperse. It was
+the middle of the afternoon, and Forrester was amazed at how quickly
+the time had passed. The Procession itself had taken a good six hours
+from start to finish, now that he looked back on it, but it certainly
+hadn't seemed so long. And he didn't even feel tired, in spite of all
+the dancing and cavorting he had gone in for.
+
+He did feel slightly intoxicated, but he wasn't sure how much of that
+feeling was due purely and simply to the liquor he had managed to
+consume. But otherwise, he told himself, he felt perfectly fine.
+
+The musicians were breaking up into little groups of three and four and
+five and going off to play softly to themselves among the trees. The man
+with the steam calliope sat exhausted over his keyboard. The old man
+with the water glasses was receiving the earnest congratulations of a
+lot of people who looked like relatives. And now that the official
+music-making was over, a lot of amateurs playing jews'-harps and
+tissue-paper-covered combs and slide-whistles had broken out their
+contraptions and were gaily making a joyful noise unto their God. If,
+Forrester thought, you wanted to call it joyful. The general tenor of
+the sound was a kind of swooping, batlike whine.
+
+Forrester stared down. There were Gerda and her brother and the oaf.
+They were standing close by the Temple, three Myrmidons keeping guard
+over them. The rest of the crowd had dissolved into little bunches
+spreading all over the park. Forrester knew he would have to leave, too,
+and very soon. There were seven girls waiting for him down below.
+
+Not that he minded the idea. Seven beautiful girls, after all, were
+seven beautiful girls. But he did want to keep an eye on Gerda, and he
+wasn't sure whether he would be able to do it when he got busy.
+
+Somewhere in the bushes, someone began to play a kazoo, adding the final
+touch of melancholy and heartbreak to the music. The formal and
+official part of the Bacchanal was now over.
+
+The _real_ fun, Forrester thought dismally, was about to begin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+
+"Now," Forrester said gaily, "let's see if your God has all the names
+right, shall we?"
+
+The seven girls seated around him in a half-circle on the grass giggled.
+One of them simpered.
+
+"Hmm," Forrester said. He pointed a finger. "Dorothy," he said. The
+finger moved. "Judy. Uh--Bette. Millicent. Jayne." He winked at the last
+two. They had been his closest companions on the march down. "Beverly,"
+he said, "and Kathy. Right?"
+
+The girls laughed, nodding their heads. "You can call me Millie,"
+Millicent said.
+
+"All right, Millie." For some reason this drew another big laugh.
+Forrester didn't know why, but then, he didn't much care, either.
+"That's fine," he said. "Just fine."
+
+He gave all the girls a big, wide grin. It looked perfectly convincing
+to them, he was sure, but there was one person it didn't convince:
+Forrester. He knew just how far from a grin he felt.
+
+As a matter of fact, he told himself, he was in something of a quandary.
+
+He was not exactly inexperienced in the art of making love to beautiful
+young women. After the last few months, he was about as experienced as
+he could stand being. But his education had, it now appeared, missed one
+vital little factor.
+
+He was used to making love to a beautiful girl all alone, just the two
+of them locked quietly away from prying eyes. True, it had turned out
+that a lot of his experiences had been judged by Venus and any other God
+who felt like looking in, but Forrester hadn't known that at the time
+and, in any case, the spectators had been invisible and thus ignorable.
+
+Now, however, he was on the greensward of Central Park, within full view
+of a couple of thousand drunken revelers, all of whom, if not otherwise
+occupied, asked for nothing better than a good view of their God in
+action. And whichever girl he chose would leave six others eagerly
+awaiting their turns, watching his every move with appreciative eyes.
+
+And on top of that, there was Gerda, close by. He was trying to keep an
+eye on her. But was she keeping an eye on him, too?
+
+It didn't seem to matter much that she couldn't recognize him as William
+Forrester. She could still see him in action with the seven luscious
+maidens. The idea was appalling.
+
+All afternoon, he had put off the inevitable by every method he could
+think of. He had danced with each of the girls in turn for entirely
+improbable lengths of time. He had performed high-jumps, leaps,
+barrel-rolls, Immelmann turns and other feats showing off his Godlike
+prowess to anyone interested. He had made a display of himself until he
+was sick of the whole business. He had consumed staggering amounts of
+ferment and distillate, and he had forced the stuff on the girls
+themselves, in the hope that, what with the liquor and the exertion,
+they would lie down on the grass and quietly pass out.
+
+Unfortunately, none of these plans had worked. Dancing and acrobatics
+had to come to an end sometime, and as for the girls, what they wanted
+to do was lie down, not pass out--at least not from liquor.
+
+The Chosen Maidens had been imbued, temporarily, with extraordinary
+staying powers by the Priests of the various temples, working with the
+delegated powers of the various Gods. After all, an ordinary girl
+couldn't be expected to keep up with Dionysus during a revel, could she?
+A God reveling was more than any ordinary mortal could take for long--as
+witness the ancient legend concerned the false Norse God, Thor.
+
+But these girls were still raring to go, and the sun had set, and he was
+running out of opportunities for delay. He tried to think of some more
+excuses, and he couldn't think of one. Vaguely, he wished that the real
+Dionysus would show up. He would gladly give the God not only the
+credit, he told himself wearily, but the entire game.
+
+He glanced out into the growing dimness. Gerda was out there still, with
+her brother and the oaf--whose name, Forrester had discovered, was Alvin
+Sherdlap. It was not a probable name, but Alvin did not look like a
+probable human being.
+
+Now and again during the long afternoon, Forrester had got Ed Symes to
+toss up more rocks as targets, just to keep his hand in and to help him
+in keeping an eye on Gerda and her oaf, Alvin. It was a boring business,
+exploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes apparently got to
+like it, and thought of it as a singular honor. After all, he had been
+picked for a unique position: target-tosser for the great God Dionysus.
+Who else could make that statement?
+
+He would probably grow in the estimation of his friends, Forrester
+thought, and that was a picture that wouldn't stand much thinking about.
+As a stupefying boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferable
+snobbishness to his present personality was piling Pelion on Ossa. And
+only a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly, could possibly do that.
+
+Now, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap and Gerda were all
+sitting around a large keg of beer which Symes had somehow managed to
+appropriate from some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin were
+guzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling away the
+time, apparently, by thinking. Forrester wondered if she was thinking of
+him, and the notion made him feel sad and poetic.
+
+Gerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The darkness of night had
+come down and there was no moon. The only illumination was the glow
+rising from the rest of the city, since the lights of the park would
+stay out throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaining
+light was not enough to see anything more than a few feet away. But to
+Forrester's Godlike, abnormally perceptive vision, the park seemed no
+darker than it had at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes trio
+could not possibly see him, he could still watch over them with no
+effort at all.
+
+He intended to continue doing so.
+
+But now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities, and his mind
+completely empty of excuses, was the time to begin the task at hand.
+
+He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.
+
+"Well," he said. "Well."
+
+There had to be something to follow that, but for a minute he couldn't
+think of what.
+
+Millicent giggled unexpectedly. "Oh, Lord Dionysus! I feel so
+_honored_!"
+
+"Er," Forrester said. Finally he found words. "Oh, that's all right," he
+said, wondering exactly what he meant. "Perfectly all right, Millicent."
+
+"Call me Millie."
+
+"Of course, Millie."
+
+"You can call me Bets, if you want to," Bette chimed in. Bette was a
+blonde with short, curly hair and a startling figure. "It's kind of a
+pet name. You know."
+
+"Sure," Forrester said. "Uh--would you mind keeping your voices down a
+little?"
+
+"Why?" Millicent asked.
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. "Well," he said at last,
+thinking about Gerda, only a few feet away, "I thought it might be nicer
+if we were quiet. Sort of private and romantic."
+
+"Oh," Bette said.
+
+Kathy spoke up. "You mean we have to whisper? As if we were doing
+something secret?"
+
+Forrester tightened his lips. He felt the beginnings of a strong
+distaste for Kathy. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? But he
+only said: "Well, yes. I thought it might be fun. Let's try it, girls."
+
+"Of course, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said demurely.
+
+He disliked her, he decided, intensely.
+
+There was a little silence.
+
+"Well," Forrester said. "You're all such beautiful girls that I hardly
+know how to--ah--proceed from here."
+
+Millicent tittered. So did one of the others--Judy, Forrester thought.
+
+"I wouldn't want any of you to feel disappointed, or think you were any
+lower in my estimation than--than any other one of you." The sentence
+seemed to have got lost somewhere, Forrester thought, but he had
+straightened it out. "That wouldn't be fair," he went on, "and we Gods
+are always fair."
+
+The sentence didn't ring quite true in Forrester's mind, and he thought
+he heard one of the girls snicker, but he ignored it and went bravely
+on.
+
+"So," he said, "we're going to have a little game."
+
+Millicent said: "Game?"
+
+"Sure," Forrester said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "We all
+like games, don't we? I mean, what's an orgy--I mean, what's a
+revel--but a great big game? Isn't that right?"
+
+"Well," Bette said doubtfully, "I guess so. Sure, Lord Dionysus, if you
+say so."
+
+"Well, sure it is!" Forrester said. "Fun and games! So we'll play a
+little game. Ha-ha."
+
+Kathy looked up at him brightly. "What kind of game, Lord Dionysus?" she
+asked in an innocent tone. She was an extravagantly pretty brunette with
+bright brown eyes, and she had been one of the two he had held in his
+arms during the Procession back from the uptown end of the park.
+Thinking it over now, Forrester wasn't entirely sure whether he had
+chosen her or she had chosen him, but it didn't really seem to matter,
+after all.
+
+"Well, now," he said, "it's going to be a game of pure chance. Chance
+and nothing more."
+
+"Like luck," Bette contributed.
+
+"That's right--uh--Bets," Forrester said. "Like luck. And I promise not
+to use my powers to affect the outcome. Fair enough, isn't it?"
+
+"Certainly," Kathy said demurely. There was really no reason for him to
+be irritated by the girl, so long as she was agreeing with him so
+nicely. Nevertheless, he wasn't quite sure that she was speaking her
+mind.
+
+"Oh," Millicent said. "Sure."
+
+Bette nodded. "Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Lord Dionysus."
+
+Forrester waved a hand. "No need for formality," he said, and felt like
+an ass. But none of the girls seemed to notice. Agreement with his idea
+became general. "Well, let's see."
+
+His eyes wandered over the surrounding scenery in quiet thought. Several
+Myrmidons were scattered about twenty feet away, and they were standing
+with their backs to the group as a matter of formality. If they had
+turned around, they couldn't have seen a thing in the darkness. But they
+had to remain at their stations, to make sure no unauthorized persons,
+souvenir-hunters, musicians, special-pleaders or just plain lost souls
+intruded upon great Dionysus while he was occupied.
+
+The Myrmidons were the only living souls within that radius, except for
+Forrester himself and his bevy--and the Symes trio.
+
+His gaze settled on them. Ed Symes, he noticed with quiet satisfaction,
+was now out cold. Forrester thought that the little spell he had cast on
+the beer might have had something to do with that, and he felt rather
+pleased with his efforts, at least in that direction. Symes was lying
+flat on his back, snoring loudly enough to drown out all but a few notes
+from the steam calliope, which was singing itself loudly to sleep
+somewhere in the distance. Near the prone figure, Gerda was trying to
+fend off the advances of good old Alvin Sherdlap, but it was obvious
+that the sheer passage of time, plus the amount of liquor she had
+consumed, were weakening her resistance.
+
+Forrester pointed a finger at the man. The one thing he really wanted to
+do was to give Alvin the rock treatment. One little _zap_ would do it,
+and Alvin Sherdlap would encumber the Earth no more. And it wasn't as if
+Alvin would be missed, Forrester told himself. It was clear from one
+look at the lout that no one, anywhere, for any reason, would miss Alvin
+if he were exploded into dust.
+
+The temptation was very nearly irresistible, but somehow Forrester
+managed to resist it. He had been told that he had to be extremely
+careful in the use of his powers, and he had a pretty good idea that he
+wouldn't be able to justify blasting Alvin. Viewed objectively, there
+was nothing wrong with what the oaf was doing. He was merely following
+his religion as he understood it, and the religion was a very simple
+one: when at an orgy, have an orgy.
+
+Gerda didn't have to give in if she didn't want to, Forrester thought.
+He tried very hard to make himself believe that.
+
+But his finger was still pointed at the man. He didn't stop his powers
+entirely; he merely throttled them down so that only a tiny fraction of
+the neural energy at his command came into play. The energy that came
+from the tip of his finger made no noise and cast no light. It was not a
+killing blow.
+
+Invisibly, it leaped across the intervening space and hit Alvin Sherdlap
+squarely on the nose.
+
+The results were eminently satisfactory. Alvin uttered a sharp cry, let
+go of Gerda and fell over backward. His legs stood up straight in the
+air for a second, and then came down to hit the ground. He was silent.
+Gerda stared down at him, too tired and confused to make any coherent
+picture out of what was going on.
+
+Forrester sighed happily to himself. _That_, he thought, _ought to take
+care of Alvin for a while_.
+
+"Lord Dionysus," Kathy asked in that same innocent tone, "what are you
+pointing at out there?"
+
+The girl was decidedly irritating, Forrester thought. "Pointing?" he
+said. "Ah, yes." He thought fast. "My target-tosser. I fear that his
+religious fervor has led to his being overcome."
+
+The girls all turned round to look but, of course, Forrester thought,
+they could see nothing at all in the darkness.
+
+"My goodness," Bette said.
+
+"But if he's unconscious," Kathy put in, "why were you pointing at him?"
+
+Forrester told himself that the next time the Sabbatical Bacchanal was
+held, he would see to it that an intelligence test was given to every
+candidate for Dionysian Escort, and anyone who scored as high on it as
+Kathy would be automatically disqualified.
+
+He had to think of some excuse for looking at the man. And then he had
+it--the game he had planned. It was really quite a nice little idea.
+
+"I hate to see the poor mortal miss out on the rest of the evening,"
+Forrester said, "even if he is asleep now. And I think we may have a use
+for him."
+
+He gestured gently with one hand.
+
+Gerda and Alvin Sherdlap didn't even notice what was happening. They
+were much too busy arguing, Alvin claiming that somebody had slapped him
+on the nose--"and pretty hard, too, let me tell you!"--and Gerda
+swearing she hadn't done it. The fact that Ed Symes's snores were fading
+quietly into the distance dawned on neither of them.
+
+But Ed was in flight. He rose five feet above the ground, still
+unconscious and snoring, and sped unerringly across the air, like a
+large, fat arrow shot from a bow, in the direction of Forrester and the
+circle of girls.
+
+He appeared overhead suddenly, and Forrester controlled him so that he
+drifted downward as delicately as an overweight snowflake, eddying in
+the slight breeze while the girls gaped at him. Forrester allowed the
+body to drop the last six inches out of control, so that Ed Symes landed
+with a heavy thump in the center of the circle. But no harm was done. Ed
+was very far gone indeed; he merely snored on.
+
+"There," Forrester said.
+
+Millicent blinked. "Where?" she said. "Him?"
+
+"Certainly," Forrester said in a pleased tone. "He's a good deal too
+noisy, though, don't you think?"
+
+"He snores a lot," Judy offered in a tentative voice, "if that's what
+you mean, Lord Dionysus."
+
+"Exactly. And I don't see any reason to put up with it. Instead, well
+just put him in stasis for a little while, and that'll keep him quiet."
+Again he waved one hand, almost carelessly. Ed Symes's snores vanished
+immediately, leaving the world a cleaner, purer, quieter place to live
+in, and his body became as rigid as if he were a statue.
+
+"There," Forrester said again with satisfaction.
+
+"Now what?" Kathy asked.
+
+"Now we straighten him out."
+
+One more pass, and Ed Symes's arms were at his sides, his legs stretched
+straight out. Only his stomach projected above the rigid lines of his
+body. Forrester thought he had never seen a more pleasing sight.
+
+Dorothy gasped. "Is he--is he dead?"
+
+Forrester looked at her reprovingly. "Dead? Now what would I do that
+for, after he's been so helpful and all?"
+
+"I don't know," she muttered.
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "he's not dead. He's just in stasis--in a state
+of totally suspended animation. As soon as I take the spell off, he'll
+be all right. But I don't think I'll take it off just yet. I've got
+plans for my little target-tosser."
+
+He reached over and touched the stiff body. It seemed to rise a fraction
+of an inch, floating on the tips of the grass. The wind stirred it a
+little, but it didn't float away.
+
+"I took some of his weight off," Forrester explained, "so he'll be a
+little easier to handle."
+
+Now Ed Symes was behaving as if he were a statue carved out of cork.
+With a quick flip, Forrester turned the statue over. The effect was
+exactly what he wanted. Ed did not touch the grass at any point except
+one: the point where his protuberant stomach most protruded. Fore and
+aft, the rest of him was balanced stiffly in the air.
+
+Forrester gazed at the sight, feeling fulfilled. "Now," he said with a
+note of decision in his voice, "we are going to play Spin-the-Bottle!"
+
+The girls giggled and laughed.
+
+"You mean with him?" Bette said.
+
+Forrester sighed. "That's right," he said patiently. "With him."
+
+He got into position and looked up at the girls. "This one's just for
+practice, so we can all see how it works." He gave Symes's extended foot
+a little push.
+
+_Whee!_ he thought. Round and round the gentleman went, spinning
+quietly on his stomach, revolving in a merry fashion while the girls and
+Forrester watched silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nose
+pointing at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "He's pointing at me!"
+
+"He is not!" Bette said decisively. "His head points my way!"
+
+"But he--"
+
+"Temper, temper," Forrester said. "No arguments. That one didn't count,
+anyhow--it was just to see how he worked. And I do think he works very
+nicely, don't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said. There was the same undertone in
+her voice, as if she were silently laughing at everything. She was, he
+told himself, an extremely unlikable young woman.
+
+The other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still studying the stiff
+body of Ed Symes. His stomach had made a little depression in the grass
+as he whirled, and he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin.
+Forrester rubbed his hands together.
+
+"Fine," he said. "Now, all of you are going to be judges."
+
+"Me, too?" Bette asked.
+
+Forrester nodded. "The head will be the determining factor. If our
+little Mr. Bottle's head points to any one of you, that is the one I'll
+choose first."
+
+"See?" Bette said. "I told you it was his head."
+
+"Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so," Dorothy said. "And
+anyhow, I--"
+
+"Now, now, girls," Forrester said, feeling momentarily like a Girl Scout
+troop leader. "Let's listen to the rules, shall we? And then we can get
+down to playing the game." He took a deep breath. "Isn't this fun?"
+
+The girls giggled.
+
+"Good," Forrester said. "If Mr. Bottle's head ends up between two of
+you, then the other five girls will have to decide which girl the head's
+nearer to. The two girls involved will remain absolutely quiet during
+the judging, and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,
+we'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?"
+
+"You mean if the head points at me, I get picked," Bette said. "And if
+the head goes in between me and somebody else, all the other girls have
+to decide who gets picked."
+
+It was a masterly summation.
+
+"Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This one
+counts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later."
+
+"Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this _exciting_?"
+
+Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I give you my word as a
+God that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Is
+that clearly understood?"
+
+The girls murmured agreement.
+
+"Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll stand
+outside."
+
+The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguing
+about who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity was
+bound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check
+on Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren't
+touching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a better
+idea of what was going on.
+
+They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history.
+Gerda was telling Alvin all about her past.
+
+"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in love
+with a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, really
+wonderful. But he--he was killed in a subway accident some months ago."
+
+"Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."
+
+"I--I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand. I still love
+him. He was wonderful. And until I get over it, I simply can't ..."
+
+Feeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well as sorry for the
+poor girl, Forrester quit listening. The Gods had arranged his simulated
+death, which, of course, had been a necessity. His disappearance had to
+be explained somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda having to
+suffer so much.
+
+_My God!_ Forrester thought. _She still loves me!_
+
+It was the first time he had ever heard her say so, flatly, right out in
+the open. He wanted to bound and leap and cavort--but he couldn't. He
+had to go back to his seven beautiful girls.
+
+He had never felt less like it in his life.
+
+But at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping Alvin at arm's
+length. She was being faithful to his memory.
+
+Faithful--because she loved him.
+
+Grimly, he turned back to the girls. "Well, are we all ready now?"
+
+Kathy looked up at him brightly. "Lord Dionysus, it's so dark I can't
+even see for sure what's going on. How can we do any judging, if we
+can't see?"
+
+Forrester cursed Kathy for pointing out the flaw in his arrangements.
+Then, making a nice impartial job of it, he cursed himself for
+forgetting that what was perfectly visible to him was dark night to
+mortals.
+
+"We can clear that up," he said quickly. "As a matter of fact, I was
+just getting around to it. We will now proceed to shed a little light on
+the subject--said subject being our old friend Mr. Bottle."
+
+The trick had been taught to him by Venus, but he'd never had a chance
+to practice it. This was his first real experience with it, and he could
+only hope that it went off as it was supposed to.
+
+He stepped into the middle of the circle, near Ed Symes's stiff body and
+held his right hand above his head, thumb and forefinger spread an inch
+apart and the other three fingers folded into his palm.
+
+Then he concentrated.
+
+A long second ticked by, while Forrester tried to apply even more neural
+pressure. Then ...
+
+A small ball of light appeared between his thumb and forefinger, a
+yellow, cold sphere of fire that shed its radiance over the whole group.
+Carefully, he withdrew his hand, not daring to breathe. The ball of
+yellow fire remained in position, hanging in mid-air.
+
+The muffled gasp from the circle of girls was, Forrester told himself, a
+definite tribute.
+
+"Now don't worry about it, girls," he said. "That light's only visible
+to the eight of us. Nobody else can see it."
+
+There was another little series of gasps.
+
+Forrester grinned. "Can everybody see each other?"
+
+A murmur of agreement.
+
+"Can everybody see Mr. Bottle here?"
+
+Another murmur.
+
+"In that case, let's go." He stepped outside the circle of girls,
+reached in again for Ed Symes's foot, and set the gentleman spinning
+once more.
+
+Symes spun with a blinding speed, making a low, whistling noise.
+Forrester watched the body spin dizzily, just as anxious as the girls
+were to find out who the first winner was going to be. He thought of
+Millicent, who chewed gum and made it pop. He thought of Bette, the
+inveterate explainer and double-take expert. He tried to think of
+Dorothy and Jayne and Beverly and Judy, but the thought of Kathy,
+irritating and uncomfortable and too damned bright for her own good, got
+annoyingly in the way.
+
+He was rather glad he had promised not to use his powers on the spinning
+figure. He was not at all sure which one of the girls he would have
+picked for Number One.
+
+And he had, after all, given his word as a God. True, he wasn't quite a
+God, only a demi-Deity. But he did feel that Dionysus might object to
+his name being used in vain. A promise, he told himself sternly and
+with some relief, was a promise.
+
+After some time, Mr. Ed (Bottle) Symes began to slow perceptibly. The
+whistling died as Symes began rotating about his abdominal axis at a
+more and more leisurely rate. Seconds passed. Symes faced Bette ...
+Millicent ... Kathy ... Judy ... Bette again ...
+
+Forrester watched, fascinated.
+
+Finally, Symes came to a halt. All the elaborate instructions in case
+the Bottle ended up pointing between two girls had been, Forrester saw,
+totally unnecessary. Symes's head was pointing at one girl, and one girl
+alone.
+
+She gave a little squeal of delight. The others began chorusing their
+congratulations at once, looking no more convincing than the runners-up
+in any beauty contest. Their smiles appeared to have been glued on
+loosely, and their voices lacked a certain something. Possibly it was
+sincerity.
+
+"All right, that's it for now." Forrester turned to the winner. "My
+congratulations," he said, wondering just what he was supposed to say.
+Not finding any appropriate words, he turned back to the group of six
+losers. "The rest of you girls can do me a big favor. Go get a couple of
+the Myrmidons to protect you, hunt around for the nearest wine barrel
+and confiscate it for me. It's been a thirsty day."
+
+"Gee," Jayne said. "Sure we will, Lord Dionysus."
+
+"Now take your time," Forrester said, and the losers all giggled at
+once, like a trained chorus. Forrester grimaced. "Don't come back till
+you find a barrel. Then we'll play the game again."
+
+In a disappointed fashion, the six of them trooped off into the darkness
+and vanished to mortal eyes. Forrester watched them go and then turned
+to the winner, feeling just a little uncertain.
+
+"Well, Kathy," he started. "I--"
+
+She flung herself on him with the avid girlishness of a Bengal tiger.
+"I have dreamed of this night since I was but a child! At last I am in
+your arms! I love you! Take me! I am yours, all yours!"
+
+"That's nice," Forrester said, taken far aback by the girl's sudden
+onslaught. His immediate impulse was to unwind Kathy and set her back on
+her own feet, some little distance away, after which he could start
+again on a more leisurely basis. After all, he told himself, people
+ought to spend more time getting to know each other.
+
+But he remembered, just in time, that he was Dionysus. He conquered his
+first impulse and put his arms around her. As he did so, he discovered
+that his face was being covered with kisses. Kathy was murmuring little
+indistinct terms of endearment into his ear every time she reached it en
+route from one side of his face to the other.
+
+Forrester swallowed hard, tightened his grip and planted his lips firmly
+on Kathy's. A blaze of startling heat shot through him.
+
+In a small corner at the back of his mind, a scroll unrolled. On it was
+written what Vulcan had told him about his mental attitude changing
+after Investiture. When he had been plain William Forrester, an attack
+like the one Kathy was making on him had pretty much chilled him for a
+while. But now he found himself definitely rising to the occasion.
+
+There was a passion to her kiss that he had never felt before, a rising
+tide of flame that threatened to char him. The movement of her mouth on
+his sent new fires burning throughout his body, and as her hands moved
+on him he was awakened to a new world, a world of consuming desires.
+
+He wished his own clothing away, and fumbled for a second at the two
+fastenings that held Kathy's _chiton_ in place. Then it was gone and
+there was nothing between them. They met, flesh to flesh, in a fiery
+embrace that grew as he forced her down and she responded eagerly,
+wildly, to his every motion. His lips traveled over her; her entire
+body was drowning him once and for all in an unbelievable red haze,
+unlike anything he had ever before experienced ... a great wave of
+passion that went on and on, rising to a peak he had never dreamed of
+until his body shivered with the sensations, and he pressed on, rising
+still higher in an ecstasy beyond measure....
+
+His last spasm of tension turned out the God-light.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She lay in his arms on the grass, holding him almost as tightly as he
+held her. He felt exhausted, but he knew perfectly well that he wasn't.
+A God was a God, after all, and Kathy was only the hors d'oeuvres of a
+seven-course dinner.
+
+"You're wonderful," Kathy said in a soft whisper at his ear. "Absolutely
+wonderful. More wonderful than I could ever dream. I--"
+
+She was interrupted by a strange, harsh voice that bellowed from
+somewhere nearby.
+
+"All right, bitch!" it said. "Get the hell up from there! And you too,
+buster!"
+
+Forrester jerked his head up in astonishment and froze. Kathy looked up,
+fright written all over her face.
+
+The man standing over them in the darkness looked like a prize-fighter,
+one who had taken a number of beatings, but always given better than he
+had received. His arms were akimbo, his feet planted as firmly as if he
+were a particularly stubborn brand of tree. He glared down at them, his
+face expressive of anger, hatred--and, Forrester thought dully, a
+complete lack of respect for his God.
+
+The man barked: "You heard what I said! On your feet, buster! If I have
+to kick your teeth in, I want to do it when you're standing up!"
+
+Forrester's jaw dropped. Then, as the initial shock left him, anger
+boiled in to take its place. He toyed with the idea of blasting this
+mortal who showed such disrespect to a God. He sprang to his feet,
+ready to move, and then stopped.
+
+Maybe the man was crazy. Maybe he was just some poor soul who wasn't
+responsible for his own actions. It would be merciful, Forrester
+thought, to find out first, and blast the intruder afterward.
+
+He looked around. Twenty yards away, the encircling Myrmidons still
+stood, their backs to the scene, as if nothing at all were going on.
+
+Forrester blinked. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"
+
+The man barked a laugh. "None of your business." He turned to Kathy, who
+had devoted the previous few seconds to getting her _chiton_ on again.
+Hurriedly, Forrester wished back his own costume. Kathy got up, staring
+straight back at the intruder. Fear was gone from her face, and a kind
+of calmness that Forrester had never seen before possessed her now.
+
+"So!" the intruder bellowed. "The minute my back is turned, off you go!
+By the Stars and Galaxy, I--I don't know what to call you! You're worse
+than your predecessor! Can't turn anything down! You--"
+
+"Now wait!" Forrester bellowed in his most Godlike voice. "Just hold
+still there! Do you know who you're talking to? How dare you--"
+
+And Kathy interrupted him. Forrester stood mute as she stripped the
+stranger with a voice like scalding acid. "Listen, you," she said,
+pointing a finger at the man. "Who do you think you are--my husband?"
+
+"By the Stars--" the stranger began.
+
+"Don't bother trying to scare me with your big mouth," Kathy went on
+imperturbably. "You don't mean a thing to me and you can't order me
+around. What's more, you know it. You're not my husband, you big
+thug--and you're never going to be. I'll sleep with whomever I please,
+and whenever I please, and wherever I please, and that's the way things
+are going to be. After all, lard-head, it's my job, isn't it? Got any
+questions?"
+
+Her _job_?
+
+Forrester began to wonder just what he had managed to walk into now. But
+that was a detail. The important thing was that his Godhood had been
+grossly, unbelievably insulted--and at a damned inconvenient time, too!
+
+He stepped between Kathy and the intruder, his eyes flashing fire. "Do
+you know who I am? Do you know that--"
+
+"Of course he knows," Kathy put in abruptly. "And if you don't want to
+get hurt, I'd advise you to stay out of this little quarrel."
+
+Forrester turned and stared at her.
+
+What the everlasting bloody hell was going _on_?
+
+But there wasn't any time to think. The intruder put his face up near
+Forrester's and glared at him. "Sure I know who you are, buster," he
+said. "You're a wise guy. You're a Johnny-come-lately. And I know what I
+ought to do with you, too--take you apart, limb by limb!"
+
+That did it. Forrester, seeing several shades of red, decided that no
+God could possibly object if this ugly blasphemer were blasted off the
+face of the Earth. He raised a hand.
+
+And Kathy grabbed it. "_Don't!_" she said in a frightened tone.
+
+The intruder grinned wolfishly at him. "Pay no attention to Little Miss
+Sacktime over there, Forrester. You go right ahead and try it! All I
+need is an excuse to vaporize you. Just one tiny little excuse--and I'll
+do the job so damn quick, your head won't even have time to start
+swimming." He set himself. "Go on. Let's see your stuff, Forrester."
+
+Forrester's arm came down, without his being aware of it. There was only
+room in his mind for one thought.
+
+The intruder had called him Forrester.
+
+Where had he gotten the name?
+
+And, for that matter, how had he seen the two of them in the darkness?
+
+While the questions were still spinning in Forrester's mind, Kathy threw
+herself forward between him and the stranger. "Ares!" she screamed. "You
+stupid, jealous idiot! Get some sense into that battle-scarred brain of
+yours! Are you completely crazy?"
+
+"Now you listen to me--" the stranger began.
+
+"Listen, nothing! If you want to pick a fight, do it with me--I can
+fight back! But if you lay a hand on Forrester, we'll never find
+another--"
+
+The stranger reached out casually and clamped one huge paw over her
+mouth. "Shut up," he said, almost quietly. He glanced at Forrester and
+went on, in the same tone: "Don't give away everything you've got,
+chum."
+
+A second passed and then he took the hand away. Kathy said nothing at
+all for a moment, and then she nodded.
+
+"All right," she said. "You're right. We shouldn't be losing our tempers
+just now. But I didn't start--"
+
+"Didn't you?" the stranger said.
+
+Kathy shrugged. "Well, never mind it now." She turned to Forrester. "You
+know who we are now, don't you?"
+
+Forrester nodded very slowly. How else could the man have come through
+the cordon of Myrmidons and seen them in the darkness? How else would he
+have dared to face up to Dionysus--confident that he could beat him? And
+how else could all this argument have gone on without anyone hearing it?
+
+For that matter, why else would the argument have begun--unless the
+stranger and Kathy were--
+
+"Sure," he said, as if he had known it all along. "You're Mars and
+Venus."
+
+He could feel cold death approaching.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN
+
+
+William Forrester sat, quite alone, in the room which had been given him
+on Mount Olympus. He stared out of the window, a little smaller than the
+window in Venus' rooms, at the Grecian plain far below, without actually
+seeing. There was no vertigo this time; small matters like that couldn't
+bother him.
+
+The whole room was rather a small one, as Gods' rooms went, but it had
+the same varicolored shifting walls, the same furniture that appeared
+when you approached it. Forrester was beginning to get used to it now,
+and he didn't know if it was going to do him any good.
+
+He peered down, trying to discern the patrolling Myrmidons around the
+base and lower slopes of the mountain, placed there to discourage
+overeager climbers from trying to reach the home of the Gods. Of course
+he couldn't see them, and after a while he lost interest again. Matters
+were too serious to allow time for that kind of game.
+
+The Autumn Bacchanal was over, a thing of the past, on the way to the
+distortion of legend. Forrester's greatest triumph had ended--in his
+greatest fiasco.
+
+He closed his eyes as he sat in his room, the fluctuating colors on the
+walls going unappreciated. He had nothing to do now except wait for the
+final judgment of the Gods.
+
+At first he had been terrified. But terror could only last so long, and,
+as the time ticked by, the idea of that coming judgment had almost
+stopped troubling his mind. Either he had passed the tests or he hadn't.
+There was no point in worrying about the inevitable. He felt
+anesthetized, numb to any sensation of personal danger. There was
+nothing whatever he could do. The Gods had him; very well, let the Gods
+worry about what to do with him.
+
+Freed, his mind turned over and over a problem that seemed new to him at
+first. Gradually, he realized it wasn't new at all; it had been
+somewhere in the back of his thoughts from the very first, when Venus
+had told him that he had been chosen as a double for Dionysus, so many
+months ago. It seemed like years to Forrester, and yet, at the same
+time, like no more than hours. So much had happened, and so much had
+changed....
+
+But the question had remained, waiting until he could look at it and
+work with it. Now he could face that strange doubt in his mind, the
+doubt that had colored everything since his introduction to the Gods,
+that had grown as his training in demi-Godhood had progressed, and that
+was now, for the first time, coming to full consciousness. Every time it
+had come near the surface, before this day, he had expelled it from his
+mind, forcefully getting rid of it without realizing fully that he was
+doing so.
+
+And perhaps, he thought, the doubt had begun even earlier than that.
+Perhaps he had always doubted, and never allowed himself to think about
+the doubt. The floor of his mind seemed to open and he was falling,
+falling....
+
+But where the doubt had begun was unimportant now. It was present, it
+had grown; that was all that mattered. He could find facts to feed the
+doubt and strengthen it, and he looked at the facts one by one:
+
+First there was the angry conversation between Mars and Venus, on the
+night of the Bacchanal.
+
+He could still hear what Mars had said:
+
+"_... worse than your predecessor._"
+
+And then he'd shut Venus up before she gave away too much--realizing,
+maybe, that he had given away a good deal himself. That one little
+sentence was enough to bring everything into question, Forrester
+thought.
+
+He had wondered why it had been necessary to have a double for Dionysus,
+but he hadn't actually thought about it; maybe he hadn't wanted to think
+about it. But now, with the notion of a "predecessor" for Venus in his
+mind, he _had_ to think about it, and the only conclusion he could come
+to was a disturbing one. It did more than disturb him, as a matter of
+fact--it frightened him. He wanted desperately to find some flaw in the
+conclusion he faced, because he feared it even more than he feared the
+coming judgment of the Pantheon.
+
+But there wasn't any flaw. The facts meshed together entirely too well
+to be an accidental pattern.
+
+In the first place, he thought, why had he been picked for the job? He
+was a nobody, of no importance, with no special gifts. Why did he
+deserve the honor of taking his place beside Hercules and Achilles and
+Odysseus and the other great heroes? Forrester knew he wasn't any hero.
+But what gave him his standing?
+
+And, he went on, there was a second place. In the months of his training
+he had met fourteen of the Gods--all of them, except for Dionysus. Now,
+what kind of sense did that make? Anyone who's going to have a double
+usually trains the double himself, if it's at all possible. Or, at the
+very least, he allows the double to watch his actions, so that the
+double can do a really competent job of imitation.
+
+And if an imitation is all that's needed, why not hire an actor instead
+of a history professor?
+
+Vulcan had told him: "You were picked not merely for your physical
+resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well."
+
+That had to be true, if only because, as far as Forrester could see,
+nobody had the slightest reason to lie about it. But why should it be
+true? What advantage did the Gods get out of that "psychological
+resemblance"? All he was supposed to be was a double--and anybody who
+_looked_ like Dionysus would be accepted _as_ Dionysus by the people.
+The "psychological resemblance" didn't have a single thing to do with
+it.
+
+Mars, Venus, Vulcan--even Zeus had dropped clues. Zeus had referred to
+him as a "substitute for Dionysus."
+
+A substitute, he realized with a kind of horror, was not at all the same
+thing as a double.
+
+The answer was perfectly clear, but there were even more facts to
+bolster it. Why had he been tested, for instance, _after_ he had been
+made a demi-God? In spite of what Vulcan had said, was he slated for
+further honors if he passed the new tests? He was sure that Vulcan had
+been telling the truth as far as he'd gone--but it hadn't been the whole
+truth. Forrester was certain of that now.
+
+And what was it that Venus had said during that argument with Mars?
+Something about not killing Forrester, because then they would have to
+"get another--"
+
+Another _what_?
+
+Another _substitute_?
+
+No, there was no escape from the simple and obvious conclusion. Dionysus
+was either missing, which was bad enough, or something much worse.
+
+He was dead.
+
+Forrester shivered. The idea of an immortal God dying was, in one way,
+as horrible a notion as he could imagine. But in another way, it seemed
+to make a good deal of sense. As far as plain William Forrester had been
+concerned, the contradiction in the notion of a dead immortal would have
+made it ridiculous to start with. But the demi-God Dionysus had a
+somewhat different slant on things.
+
+After all, as Vulcan had told him, a demi-God could die. And if that was
+true, then why couldn't a God die too? Perhaps it would take quite a lot
+to kill a God--but the difference would be one of degree, not of kind.
+
+It seemed wholly logical. And it led, Forrester saw, to a new
+conclusion, one that required a little less effort to face than he
+thought it would. It should have shaken the foundations of his childhood
+and left him dizzy, but somehow it didn't. How long, he asked himself,
+had he been secretly doubting the fact that the Gods were Gods?
+
+At least in the sense they pretended to be, the "Gods" were not gods at
+all. They were--something else.
+
+But what? Where did they come from?
+
+Were they actually the Gods of ancient Greece, as they claimed?
+Forrester wanted to throw that claim out with the rest, but when he
+thought things over he didn't see why he should. To an almost
+indestructible being, three thousand years may only be a long time.
+
+So the Gods actually were "Gods," at least as far as longevity went. But
+the decision didn't get him very far; there were still a lot of
+questions unanswered, and no way that he could see of answering them.
+
+Or, rather, there was one way, but it was hellishly dangerous. He had no
+business even thinking about. He was in enough hot water already.
+
+Nevertheless....
+
+What more harm could he do to his chances? After the Bacchanal fiasco,
+there was probably a sentence of death hanging over his head anyhow. And
+they couldn't do any more to him than kill him.
+
+It was ridiculous, he told himself, with a return of caution and sanity.
+But the notion came back, nagging at his mind, and at last it took a new
+form.
+
+The Gods had the rest of the information he needed. He had to go to one
+of them--but which one?
+
+His first thought was Venus. But, after a moment of thought, he ruled
+her regretfully out as a possibility. After all, there was Mars' mention
+of her "predecessor." If that meant anything, it meant that the current
+Venus wasn't the original one. She would have a lot less information
+than one of the original Gods.
+
+_If there were any originals left...._
+
+He tabled that thought hurriedly and went on. Vulcan had told him at
+least a part of the truth, and Vulcan looked like a good bet. Forrester
+didn't like the idea of bearding the artisan in his workshop; it made
+him feel uncomfortable, and after a while he put his finger on the
+reason. His little liaison with Venus made him feel guilty. There was,
+he knew, no real reason for it. In the first place, he hadn't known the
+girl was Venus, and in the second place she may not have been the same
+one who had been Vulcan's original wife, thirty and more centuries ago.
+
+But the guilt remained, and he tabled Vulcan for the time being and went
+on.
+
+Morpheus, Hera, and most of the others he passed by without a glance;
+there was no reason for them to dislike him, but there was no reason for
+comradeship, either. Mars popped into his mind, and popped right out
+again. That would be putting his head in the lion's mouth with a
+vengeance.
+
+No, there was only one left, the obvious choice, the one who had helped
+him throughout his training period--Diana. She genuinely seemed to like
+him. She was also a good kid. The thought alone was almost enough to
+make him smile fondly, and would have if he had not remembered the peril
+he was in.
+
+He turned away from the window to look at the color-swirled wall across
+the room. He had remained in his room ever since Mars and Venus had
+brought him back from New York, and he wasn't at all sure that he could
+leave it. In the normal sense of the word, the place had neither exits
+nor entrances. The only way of getting in or out of the place was via
+the Veils of Heaven--matter transmitters, not something supernatural, he
+realized now.
+
+As far as Forrester knew, they still worked. But the Gods could generate
+a Veil anywhere, at any time. Forrester, as a demi-God, could only will
+one into existence on sufferance; he could only work the
+matter-transmitting Veils if the Gods permitted him to do so. If they
+didn't, he was trapped.
+
+Well, he told himself, there was one way to find out.
+
+He walked over to the wall and stood a few feet away from it,
+concentrating in the way he had been taught. He was still slower at it
+than the Gods themselves, and hadn't developed the knack of forming a
+Veil as he walked toward the place where he wanted it to be, as they
+had.
+
+But he knew he could do it--if he was still allowed to.
+
+Minutes went by.
+
+Then, as the blue sheet of neural energy flickered into being, Forrester
+slumped in sudden relief. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
+
+The Veil was there--but was it what he hoped, or a trick? Possibly he
+could focus the other terminal where he wanted it, but there was also
+the chance that the Gods had set the thing up so that, when he stepped
+through, he would be standing in the Court of the Gods facing a tribunal
+for which he was totally unprepared.
+
+It would be just like the Pantheon, he thought, to pull a lousy trick
+like that.
+
+But there was no point in dithering. If death was to be his fate, that
+would be that. He could do nothing at all by sitting in his room and
+waiting for them to come and get him.
+
+He focused the exit terminal in Diana's apartment. There was no way of
+knowing whether the focus worked or not until he stepped through.
+
+He opened his eyes and walked into the Veil.
+
+He felt almost disappointed when he looked around him. He had steeled
+himself to do great battle with the Gods--and, instead, he was where he
+had wanted to be, in Diana's apartment.
+
+She was standing with her back to him, and Forrester didn't make a
+sound, not wanting to startle the Goddess. She was totally unclad, her
+glorious body shining in the light of the room, her blue-black hair
+unbound and falling halfway down her gently curved back. But she must
+have heard him somehow, for she turned, and for half a second she stood
+facing him.
+
+Forrester did not move. He couldn't even breathe.
+
+Every magnificent curve was highlighted in a frozen tableau.
+
+Then there was a sudden flash of white, and she was clad in a clinging
+_chiton_ which, Forrester saw, served only to remind one of what one had
+recently seen. It worked very well, although Forrester did not think he
+had any need for an aid to his memory.
+
+"My goodness!" Diana said. "You shouldn't surprise a girl like that! I
+mean, you really gave me a shock, kid!"
+
+Forrester took his first breath. "Well," he said, "I could be dishonest,
+not to mention ungallant, and tell you I was sorry."
+
+"But?" Diana said.
+
+"Being of sound mind and sound body, I'm a long way from being sorry."
+
+And Diana dropped her eyes and blushed.
+
+Forrester could barely believe it.
+
+But it did show a part of the Goddess's personality that was entirely
+new to him. He was sure that any of the Gods or Goddesses could sense
+when a Veil of Heaven was forming near them, and get prepared before it
+was well enough developed to allow for passage. But Diana--who was,
+after all, one of the traditionally virgin Goddesses, like Pallas
+Athena--had chosen to pretend surprise.
+
+Forrester had a further hunch, too. He thought she might have
+deliberately vanished her _chiton_ only a second or so before he
+entered. And that put a different--and a very interesting--face on
+things.
+
+Not to mention, he thought, an entire figure.
+
+But he didn't say anything. That wasn't his main business in Diana's
+apartment. Instead, he watched her smile briskly and say: "Well, you're
+here, anyhow, kid, and I guess that's enough for me. Want a drink? I
+could whip up some nectar--and maybe an ambrosia sandwich?"
+
+"I'll take the drink," Forrester said. "I'm not really hungry, thanks."
+
+Diana held out her hands, fingers curved inward, and a crystal cup of
+clear, golden liquid appeared in each--matter transmission, of course,
+not magic. She handed one over to Forrester, who took it and looked the
+Goddess straight in the eyes.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "Diana, I've got some questions to ask you, and I
+hope I'll get the answers."
+
+She touched the rim of her cup to his. Her voice was very soft, but she
+didn't hesitate in the least. "I'll answer any questions I have to. Sit
+down."
+
+They found chairs along the walls of the room and sat facing one
+another. Forrester took a sip of his drink, settled back, and tried to
+think where to begin. Well, God or no God, Zeus had the key to that one.
+He had said it years ago, and it had passed almost into legend:
+
+"Begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end, and then stop."
+
+Very well, Forrester thought. He cleared his throat. Diana looked at him
+inquiringly.
+
+"I don't know how far into the noose I'm putting my head with this one,
+Diana," he said. "But I trust you--and I've got to ask somebody."
+
+"Go ahead," she said quietly.
+
+"First question. The original Dionysus is dead, isn't he?"
+
+She paused for a moment before answering. "Yes, he is."
+
+"And I was scheduled to take his place."
+
+"That's right."
+
+"As a full God," Forrester said.
+
+Diana nodded.
+
+There was a little silence.
+
+"Diana," Forrester said, "what are the Gods?"
+
+She got up and crossed to the window. Looking out, she said: "Before I
+answer that, I want you to tell me what you think we are."
+
+"Men and women," he said. "More or less human, like myself. Except
+you've somehow managed to get so far ahead of any kind of science Earth
+knows that, even today, your effects can only be explained as 'magic' or
+'miracle.'"
+
+"How could we get that far ahead of you?"
+
+Forrester took a leap in the dark to the only conclusion he could see.
+"You're not from Earth," he said. "You're from another planet." The
+words sounded strange in his own ears--but Diana didn't even act
+surprised.
+
+"That's right," she said. "We're from another planet--or, rather, from
+several other planets."
+
+"_Several?_" Forrester exclaimed. "But--oh. I see. Pan, for instance--"
+
+Diana nodded. "Pan isn't even really humanoid. His home is a planet
+where his type of goatlike life evolved. Neither Pluto nor Neptune is
+humanoid, either; they're a little closer than Pan, but not really very
+close when you get a good look. The rest of the Gods are humanoid--but
+not human."
+
+"Wait a minute," Forrester said. "Venus is human. Or, anyhow, she's a
+replacement, just the way I was slated to be a replacement for
+Dionysus."
+
+Diana drained her cup and clapped her hands together on it. The cup
+vanished. Forrester did the same to his own. "Correct," she said. "Venus
+just--just disappeared once. They got an Etruscan girl to replace her.
+She's not the only replacement, either."
+
+Forrester stared. "Who else?"
+
+"You tell me."
+
+He thought the list of Gods over. "Zeus," he said.
+
+Diana smiled. "Yes, Zeus is a long way from the great hero of the
+legends, isn't he? Using the old calendar, Zeus died in about 1100 B.C.,
+not too long after the close of the Trojan War. As far as anybody knows,
+Neptune did the actual killing, but it's pretty clear that the original
+idea wasn't his."
+
+"Hera's," Forrester guessed.
+
+"Of course," Diana said. "What she wanted was a figurehead she could
+control--and that's what she got. Though I'm not sure she's entirely
+happy with the change. If the original Zeus was a little harder to
+control, at least he seems to have had an original thought now and
+again."
+
+Forrester sat quietly for a time, waiting for the shock to pass. "What
+about Dionysus?"
+
+Diana shrugged. "He--well, as far as anybody's ever been able to tell,
+it was suicide. About three years ago, and it drove Hera pretty wild,
+trying to find a substitute in a hurry. I suspect he was bored with the
+wine, women and song. He'd had a long time of it. And, too, he'd had
+some little disagreements with Hera. As you may have gathered, she is
+not exactly a safe person to have as an enemy. He probably figured she'd
+get him sooner or later, so he might as well save her the trouble."
+
+"And Hera had to rush to get a replacement? Why couldn't there just have
+been some sort of explanation, while the rest of you ran things?"
+
+"Because the rest of us couldn't run things. Not for long, anyhow. It's
+all a question of power."
+
+"Power?" Forrester said.
+
+"Everything we have," Diana said, "is derived, directly or indirectly,
+from the workings of one machine. Though 'machine' is a long way from
+the right word for it--it bears about as much resemblance to what you
+think of as a machine as a television set does to a window. There just
+isn't a word for it in any language you know."
+
+"And all the Gods have to work the machine at once?"
+
+"Something like that." Diana came back from the window and sat down
+facing him again. "It operates through the nervous systems of the beings
+in circuit with it, each one of them in contact with one of the power
+nodes of the machine. And if one of the nodes is unoccupied, then the
+machine's out of balance. It will run for a while, but eventually it
+will simply wreck itself. Every one of the fifteen nodes has to be
+occupied. Otherwise--chaos."
+
+Forrester nodded. "So when Dionysus died--"
+
+"We had to find a replacement in a hurry. The machine's been running out
+of balance for about as long as it can stand right now."
+
+Forrester closed his eyes. "I'm not sure I get the picture."
+
+"Well, look at it this way: suppose you have a wheel."
+
+"All right," Forrester said obligingly. "I have a wheel."
+
+"And this wheel has fifteen weights on it. They're spaced equally around
+the rim, and the wheel's revolving at high speed."
+
+Forrester kept his eyes closed. When he had the wheel nicely spinning,
+he said: "Okay. Now what?"
+
+"Well," Diana said, "as long as the weights stay in place, the wheel
+spins evenly. But if you remove one of the weights, the wheel's out of
+balance. It starts to wobble."
+
+Forrester took one of the weights (Dionysus, a rather large, jolly
+weight) off the wheel in his mind. It wobbled. "Right," he said.
+
+"It can take the wobble for a little while. But unless the balance is
+restored in time, the wheel will eventually break."
+
+Hurriedly, Forrester put Dionysus back on the wheel. The wobble stopped.
+"Oh," he said. "I see."
+
+"Our power machine works in that sort of way. That is, it requires all
+fifteen occupants. Dionysus has been dead for three years now, and
+that's about the outside limit. Unless he's replaced soon, the machine
+will be ruined."
+
+Forrester opened his eyes. The wheel spun away and disappeared. "So you
+found me to replace Dionysus. I had to look like him, so the mortals
+wouldn't see any difference. And the psychological similarity--"
+
+"That's right," Diana said. "It's the same as the wheel again. If you
+remove a weight, you've got to put back a weight of the same magnitude.
+Otherwise, the wheel's still out of balance."
+
+"And since the power machine works through the nervous system--"
+
+"The governing factor is that similarity. You've got to be of the same
+magnitude as Dionysus. Of course, you don't have to be an _identical_
+copy. The machine can be adjusted for _slight_ differences."
+
+"I see," Forrester said. "And the fifteen power nodes--" Another idea
+occurred to him. "Wait a minute. If there are only fifteen power nodes,
+then how come there were so many different Gods and Goddesses among the
+Greeks? There were a lot more than fifteen back then."
+
+"Of course there were," Diana said, "but they weren't real Gods. As a
+matter of fact, some of them didn't really exist."
+
+Forrester frowned. "How's that again?"
+
+"They were just disguises for one of the regular fifteen. Aesculapius,
+for instance, the old God of medicine, was Hermes/Mercury in
+disguise--he took the name in honor of a physician of the time. He would
+have raised the man to demi-Godhood, but Aesculapius died unexpectedly,
+and we thought taking his 'spirit' into the Pantheon was good public
+relations."
+
+"How about the others?" Forrester said. "They weren't all disguises,
+were they?"
+
+"Of course not. Some of them were demi-Gods, just like yourself. Their
+power was derived, like yours, from the Pantheon instead of directly
+through the machine. And then there were the satyrs and centaurs, and
+suchlike beings. That was public relations, too--mainly Zeus' idea, I
+understand. The original Zeus, of course."
+
+"Of course," Forrester said.
+
+"The satyrs and such were artificial life-forms, created, maintained and
+controlled by the machine itself. It's equipped with what you might call
+a cybernetic brain--although that's pretty inadequate as a description.
+Vulcan could do a better job of explaining."
+
+"Perfectly all right. I don't understand that kind of thing anyhow."
+
+"Well, in that case, let me put it this way. The machine controlled
+these artificial forms, but they could be taken over by any one of the
+Gods or demi-Gods for special purposes. As I say, it was public
+relations--and a good way to keep the populace impressed--and under
+control."
+
+"The creatures aren't around nowadays," Forrester pointed out.
+
+"Nowadays we don't need them," Diana said. "There are other
+methods--better public relations, I suppose."
+
+Forrester didn't know he was going to ask his next question until he
+heard himself doing so. But it was the question he really wanted to ask;
+he knew that as soon as he knew he asked it.
+
+"Why?" he said.
+
+Diana looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Why? What do you mean?"
+
+"Why go on being Gods? Why dominate humanity?"
+
+"I suppose I could answer your question with another question--why not?
+But I won't. Instead, let me remind you of some things. Look what we've
+done during the last century. The great wars that wrecked Europe--you
+don't see any possibility of more of those, do you? And the threat of
+atomic war is gone, too, isn't it?"
+
+"Well, yes," Forrester said, "but--"
+
+"But we still have wars," Diana said. "Sure we do. The male animal just
+wouldn't be happy if he didn't have a chance to go out and get himself
+blown to bits once in a while. Don't ask _me_ to explain that--I'm not a
+male."
+
+Forrester agreed silently. Diana was not a male. It was the most
+understated statement he had ever heard.
+
+"But anyhow," Diana said, "they want wars, so they have wars. Mars sees
+that the wars stay small and keep within the Martian Conventions,
+though, so any really widespread damage or destruction, or any wanton
+attacks on civilians, are a thing of the past. And it's not only wars,
+kid. It's everything."
+
+"What do you mean, everything?"
+
+"Man needs a god, a personal god. When he doesn't have one ready to
+hand, he makes one up--and look at the havoc that has caused. A god of
+vengeance, a god who cheers you on to kill your enemies.... You've
+studied history. Tell me about the gods of various nations. Tell me
+about Thor and Baal and the original bloodthirsty Yahweh. People _need_
+gods."
+
+"Now wait a minute," Forrester objected. "The Chinese--"
+
+"Oh, sure," Diana said. "There are exceptions. But you can't bank on the
+exceptions. If you want a reasonably safe, sane and happy humanity, then
+you'd better make sure your gods are not going to start screaming for
+war against the neighbors or against the infidels or against--well,
+against anybody and everybody. There's only one way to make sure, kid.
+We've found that way. We _are_ the Gods."
+
+Forrester digested that one slowly. "It sounds great, but it's pretty
+altruistic. And while I don't want to impugn anybody's motives, it does
+seem to me that--"
+
+"That we ought to be getting something out of it ourselves, above and
+beyond the pure joy of helping humanity. Sure. You're perfectly right.
+And we _do_ get something out of it."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+Diana grinned. She looked more like a tomboy than ever before. "Fun,"
+she said. "And you know it. Don't tell me you didn't get a kick out of
+playing God at the Bacchanal."
+
+"Well," Forrester confessed, "yes." He sighed. "And I guess that
+Bacchanal is going to be the one really high spot in a very shortened
+sort of life."
+
+Diana sat upright. "What are you talking about?"
+
+"What else would I be talking about? The Bacchanal. You know what
+happened. You must know--everybody must by now. Mars is probably
+demanding my head from Hera right now. Unless he's got more complicated
+ideas like taking me apart limb by limb. I remember he mentioned that."
+
+Diana stood up and came over to Forrester. "Why would Mars do something
+like that and especially now? And what makes you think Hera would go
+along with him if he did?"
+
+"Why not? Now that I've failed my tests--"
+
+"_Failed?_" Diana cried. "You _haven't_ failed!"
+
+Forrester stood up shakily. "Of course I have. After what happened at
+the Bacchanal, I--"
+
+"Don't pay any attention to that," Diana said. "Mars is a louse. Always
+has been, I hear. Nobody likes him. As a matter of fact, you've just
+passed your finals. The last test was to see if you could figure out who
+we were--and you've done that, haven't you?"
+
+There was a long, taut silence.
+
+Then Diana laughed. "Your face looks the way mine must have, over three
+thousand years ago!"
+
+"What are you talking about?" Still dazed, he wasn't quite sure he had
+heard her rightly.
+
+"When they told me the same thing. After the original Diana was killed
+in a 'hunting accident'--frankly, she seems to have been too independent
+to suit Hera--and I passed my own finals, I--"
+
+She stopped.
+
+"Now don't look at me like that," Diana said. "And pull yourself
+together, because we've got to get to the Final Investiture. But it's
+all true. I'm a substitute too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+
+The Great God Dionysus, Lord of the Vine, Ruler of the Revels, Master of
+the Planting and the Harvest, Bestower of the Golden Touch, Overseer of
+the Poor, Comforter of the Worker and Patron of the Drunkard, sat
+silently in a cheap bar on Lower Third Avenue, New York, slowly imbibing
+his seventh brandy-and-soda. It tasted anything but satisfactory as it
+went down; he preferred vodka or even gin, but after all, he asked
+himself, if a God couldn't be loyal to his own products, then who could?
+
+He was dressed in an inexpensive brown suit, and his face did not look
+like that of Dionysus, or even of William Forrester. Though neatly
+turned out, he looked a little like an out-of-work bookkeeper. But it
+was obvious that he hadn't been out of work for very long.
+
+_Hell of a note_, he thought, _when a God has to skulk in some cheap bar
+just because some other God has it in for him_.
+
+But that, unfortunately, was the way Mars was. It didn't matter to him
+that none of what happened had been Forrester's fault. In the first
+place, Forrester hadn't known that the girl at the Bacchanal had been
+Venus until it was much too late for apologies. In the second place, he
+hadn't even picked her; he'd kept his promise not to use his powers on
+the spinning figure of Mr. Bottle Symes. But Venus had made no such
+promise. Venus had rigged the game.
+
+But try explaining that to Mars.
+
+He didn't seem to mind what went on at the Revels of Aphrodite--being
+Goddess of Love was her line of work, and even Mars appeared to
+recognize that much. But he didn't like the idea of any extracurricular
+work, especially with other Gods. And if anything occurred, he, Mars,
+was sure damned well going to find out about it and see that something
+was done about it, yes, sir.
+
+Forrester finished his drink and stared at the empty glass. It had all
+begun on the day of his Final Investiture, and he had gone through every
+event in memory, over and over. Why, he didn't know. But it was
+something to do while he hid.
+
+It hadn't been anywhere near as simple as the Investiture he had gone
+through to become a demi-God. All fourteen of the other Gods had been
+there this time; a simple quorum wasn't enough. Pluto, with his
+dead-black, light-absorbent skin casting a shade of gloom about him, had
+slouched into the Court of the Gods, looking at everybody and everything
+with lackluster eyes. Poseidon/Neptune had come in more briskly,
+smelling of fish, his skin pale green and glistening wet, his fingers
+and toes webbed and his eyes bulging and wide. Phoebus Apollo had
+strolled in, looking authentically like a Greek God, face and figure
+unbelievably perfect, and a pleased, stupid smile spread all over his
+countenance. Hermes/Mercury, slim and wily, with a foxy face and quick
+movements, had slipped in silently. And all the others had been there,
+too. Mars looked grim, but when Forrester was formally proposed for
+Godhood, Mars made no objection.
+
+The entire Pantheon had then gone single-file through a Veil of Heaven
+to a room Forrester just couldn't remember fully. At the time, his eyes
+simply refused to make sense out of the place. Now, of course, he
+understood why: it didn't really exist in the space-time framework he
+was used to. Instead, it was partially a four-dimensional
+pseudo-manifold superimposed on normal space. If not perfectly simple,
+at least the explanation made matters rational rather than supernatural.
+But, at the time, everything seemed to take place in a chaotic dream
+world where infinite distance and the space next to him seemed one and
+the same. He knew then why Diana had told him that the word "machine"
+could not describe the Gods' power source.
+
+He had been seated there in the dream room. But it wasn't exactly
+sitting; every spatial configuration took on strange properties in that
+pseudo-space, and he seemed to float in a place that had neither
+dimension nor direction. The other Gods had all seemed to be sitting in
+front of him, all together and all at once--yet, at the same time, each
+had been separate and distinct from the others.
+
+He wanted to close his eyes, but he had been warned against doing that.
+Grimly, he kept them open.
+
+And then the indescribable began to happen. It was as though every nerve
+in his body had been indissolubly linked to the great source of
+God-power. It was pure, hellish torture, and at the same time it was the
+most exquisite pleasure he had ever known. He could not imagine how long
+it went on--but, eventually, it ended.
+
+He was Dionysus/Bacchus.
+
+And then it had been over, and a banquet had been held in his honor, a
+celebration for the new God. Everyone seemed to enjoy the occasion, and
+Forrester himself had been feeling pretty good until Mars, smiling a
+smile that only touched his lips and left his eyes as cold and hard as
+anything Forrester had ever seen, had come up to him and said softly:
+
+"All right, Dionysus. You're a God now. I didn't touch you before
+because we needed you. And I don't intend to kill you now; replacements
+are too hard to find. I'm only going to beat you--to within an inch of
+your damned immortal life. Just remember that, buster."
+
+And then, the smile still set on his face, he had turned and swaggered
+away.
+
+Forrester had thought of Vulcan.
+
+Mars wasn't a killer, in spite of his bully-boy tactics. He had too good
+a military mind to discipline a valuable man to death. But he was more
+than willing to go as near to that point as possible, if he thought it
+justified. And what he allowed as justification resided in a code all
+his own.
+
+"Right" was what was good for Mars. "Wrong" was what disturbed him. That
+was the code, as simple, as black and white, as you could ask for.
+Vulcan was one of the results.
+
+Vulcan had been Venus' lawful husband, as far as the laws of the Gods
+went. That didn't matter to Mars--when he wanted Venus. He had thrashed
+Vulcan, and the beating had left permanent damage.
+
+The damage was translated into Vulcan's limp. Any God's ability to heal
+himself through the machine's power was dependent on the God's own
+mentality and outlook. And Vulcan had never been able to cure his limp;
+the psychic punishment had been too great.
+
+Forrester ordered another drink and tried to think about something else.
+The prospect of a fight with Mars was sometimes a little too much for
+him to handle.
+
+The drink arrived and he sipped at it vacantly, thinking back to Diana
+and her story of the Gods.
+
+There was one hole in it--a hole big enough to toss Mount Olympus
+through, he realized. Where had the Gods gone for three thousand years?
+And how had they gotten to Earth in the first place?
+
+Those two unanswered questions were enough to convince Forrester that,
+in spite of all he knew, and in spite of the way his new viewpoint had
+turned his universe upside down in a matter of hours, he still didn't
+have the whole story. He had to find it--even more so, now, as he began
+to realize that the human race deserved more than just the "security"
+and "happiness" that the Gods could give them. It deserved independence,
+and the chance to make or mar its own future. Protection was all very
+well for the infancy of a race, but man was growing up now. Man needed
+to make his own world.
+
+The Gods had no place in that world, Forrester saw. He had to find the
+answers to all of his questions--and now he thought he knew a way to do
+it.
+
+"Want another, buddy?"
+
+The bartender's voice roused Forrester from his reverie. He had
+absent-mindedly finished brandy-and-soda number eight.
+
+"Okay," Forrester said. "Sure." He handed the bartender a ten-dollar
+bill and got a kind of wry pleasure out of seeing the picture of
+Dionysus on its face. "Let's have another, but more brandy and less soda
+this time."
+
+The drink was brought and he sipped at it, looking like any ordinary
+citizen taking on a small load, but tuned to every fluctuation in the
+energy levels around him, waiting.
+
+Only a God, he knew, could hurt another God, and even then it took
+plenty of power to do it. Actually to kill a God required the combined
+efforts of more than one, under normal circumstances--though one,
+properly equipped and with some luck, could manage it. As far as his own
+situation was concerned, Forrester was prepared for a deadly assault
+from Mars. Maybe Mars didn't intend to kill him, but being maimed for
+centuries, like Vulcan, was nothing to look forward to, and it was just
+as well to be on the safe side. Just in case the God of War had managed
+to get one or two other Gods on his side, Forrester had talked to Diana
+and Venus, and had their agreement to step in on his side if things got
+rough, or if Mars tried to pull anything underhanded.
+
+And any minute now....
+
+Suddenly Forrester felt a disturbance in the energy flow around him.
+Somewhere behind him, invisible to the mortals who occupied the bar, a
+Veil of Heaven was beginning to form.
+
+With a fraction of a second, Forrester was forming his own. But this
+time he took a little longer than he had before.
+
+It wasn't the first time he'd had to run. For over a month now, he had
+been jumping from place to place, all over the world. He had gone to
+Hong Kong first. When Mars had traced him there and made a grab for him,
+Forrester had made a quick jump, via Veil, to Durban, South Africa. It
+had taken Mars all of forty-eight hours to find Forrester hiding in the
+native quarter, wearing the _persona_ of a Negro laborer. But again
+Forrester had disappeared, this time reappearing in Lima, Peru.
+
+And so it had gone for five full weeks, with Forrester keeping barely
+one jump ahead of the God of War.
+
+And, in that month, he had achieved two important things.
+
+First, he had begun to make Mars a little overconfident. By now Mars was
+fully convinced that Forrester was nothing but a coward, and he was
+absolutely certain that he could beat the newcomer easily, if he could
+only come to grips with him.
+
+Second, Forrester had discovered that Mars' basic reflexes were a trifle
+slower than his own.
+
+If Mars had been able to form his own Veil and step through it in time
+to sense the last fading glimmers of Forrester's Veil, he would have
+been able to follow immediately. Instead, he had to go to all the
+trouble of finding Forrester over and over again. That meant slower
+reflexes--and that, Forrester thought, might just give him the edge he
+needed.
+
+But this time, Forrester was going to let Mars follow him--slow
+reflexes and all. This time, he waited that extra fraction of a
+second--and then stepped through the Veil.
+
+He was in the middle of a great rain forest. Around him towered trees
+whose great trunks reached up to a leafy sky. The place was dark; little
+sunlight came through the roof of leaves and curling vines. A bird
+screamed somewhere in the distance, sounding like a lost soul in agony;
+the sound was repeated, and then there was silence.
+
+Forrester was exactly where he had intended to be: in the middle of the
+Amazon jungle.
+
+He had time for one look around. Then Mars stepped out of a shimmering
+Veil only yards away from where Forrester was standing. Immediately,
+Forrester felt Mars throw out a suppressor field that would keep him
+from forming another Veil. He did the same thing. Now, as long as both
+held their respective fields, neither could leave.
+
+"Greetings," Forrester said.
+
+The bird screamed again. Mars ignored it.
+
+"You're just a little too slow," he said, grinning. "And now, buster,
+you're going to get it--and get it good."
+
+"Who?" Forrester said. "Me?"
+
+Mars hissed his breath in and fired a blast of blue-white energy that
+would have drilled through a foot of armor plate. But Forrester blocked
+it; the splatter of free energy struck at the nearby trees, sending them
+crashing to the ground. A small blaze started.
+
+Forrester followed the blow with one of his own, but Mars parried
+quickly. A few more little fires began in the vicinity. Then Mars
+bellowed and charged.
+
+By the time he reached the spot where Forrester had been, Forrester was
+fifty feet in the air, standing with his arms folded and looking down in
+an interested manner.
+
+"You ought to watch out," he said. "You might stumble into a Venus
+Flycatcher down there. I mean besides the one you've got already."
+
+Mars' mouth dropped open. He gave vent to an inarticulate roar of rage
+and leaped into the air. As he rose toward Forrester, the defender
+closed his eyes and changed shape. He became a rock and dropped. He
+bounced off Mars' rising forehead with a great noise.
+
+Mars roared and dived for the stone--and found himself holding a large,
+angry tiger.
+
+But an old trick like that didn't fool Mars. Tiger-Forrester, suddenly
+finding himself fighting with another tiger as ferocious as himself,
+began clawing and biting his way free in a frenzy of panic. He managed
+to make it just long enough to become a stone again, dropping toward the
+Earth.
+
+For a moment, the other tiger seemed uncertain. Then, catching sight of
+the falling stone, he became an eagle, and went after it with a scream,
+claws outstretched and a glitter of hatred in the slitted eyes.
+
+Forrester reached the ground first. The eagle braked madly, trying to
+escape a giant Kodiak bear. Forrester stood on his hind legs and
+battered the air with great, murderous paws. Mars scooted upward,
+already changing into something capable of coping with the bear. A huge,
+bat-winged dragon, breathing barrels of smoke, flapped in the air,
+looking all around for its opponent. It did not notice Forrester
+scurrying away in the shape of an ant through the leaves and thick humus
+of the jungle floor.
+
+By now, the air was becoming smoky and the flames were licking up the
+sides of trees all through the vicinity, and racing along the giant
+vines that curled around them. The dragon belched more smoke, adding to
+the general confusion, and roared in a voice like thunder:
+
+"Coward! Dionysus! Come out and fight!"
+
+There was an instant of crackling silence.
+
+Then Forrester stepped out from behind a blazing tree. He, too, was a
+dragon.
+
+Mars snarled, breathed smoke and made a power dive. Forrester dodged and
+the fangs of the monster missed him by inches. Mars sank claw-deep into
+the ground, and Forrester slammed the War God on the side of his head
+with one mighty forepaw. Mars blew out a cloud of evil-smelling smoke
+and managed to jerk himself free. He leaped to all four feet, glaring at
+Forrester with great, bulging, hate-filled eyes.
+
+"Man to man, you bastard!" he said in a flame-filled roar.
+
+Forrester leaped back to avoid being scorched. He poured out some smoke
+of his own. Mars coughed.
+
+"Damn it, no more shape-changing!" the War God thundered.
+
+"Fair enough!" Forrester shouted. He changed back to his Dionysian form,
+circling warily until Mars had followed suit. Then the two began to
+close in slowly.
+
+Around them the forest burned, vegetation even on the swampy ground
+catching fire as the entire vicinity crackled and hissed with heat.
+Neither of them seemed to take any notice of the fact.
+
+Mars was a trained boxer and wrestler, Forrester knew. But it was
+probably a good many centuries since he'd had any real workouts, and
+Forrester was counting heavily on slowed-down reflexes. Those would give
+him a slight edge.
+
+At any rate, he hoped so.
+
+The circling ceased as Mars leaped forward suddenly and lashed out with
+a right to the jaw that could end the fight. But Forrester moved his
+head aside just in time and the fist glanced off his cheek. He staggered
+back just as Mars followed with a left jab to the belly.
+
+Forrester clamped down on the War God's wrist and twisted violently,
+pulling Mars on past him. The War God, caught off balance, lunged
+forward, tripping over his own feet, and almost fell as he went by.
+Forrester, grinning savagely, brought his right hand down on the back of
+Mars' neck with a blow whose force would have killed an elephant
+outright.
+
+Mars, however, was no mere elephant. He grunted and went down on his
+hands and knees, shaking his head groggily. But he wasn't out. Not
+quite.
+
+Forrester doubled up his fist as Mars tried to rise, and came down again
+with all the force he could muster, squarely on his opponent's neck.
+
+There was a satisfyingly loud crack, audible, even in the roar of the
+burning forest. Mars collapsed to the ground, smothering small fires
+beneath his bulk. Forrester leaped on top of him and grabbed his head,
+beard with one hand and hair with the other. He twisted and the War God
+screamed in agony. Forrester relaxed the pressure.
+
+"All right, now," he said through clenched teeth. "Your neck's broken,
+and all I've got to do is twist enough to sever your spinal column.
+You'll be crippled for as long as Vulcan has--maybe longer."
+
+Mars shrieked again. "I yield! I yield!"
+
+Forrester held on. "Not just yet you don't," he said grimly. "I want
+some information, and I'm going to get it out of you if I have to wring
+them out vertebra by vertebra."
+
+Mars tried to buck. Forrester twisted again and the War God subsided,
+breathing hard. At last he muttered: "What do you want to know?"
+
+"Why did you and the other Gods leave Earth for three thousand years?
+And where did you come from in the first place? I want the _real_
+reason, chum." He applied a little pressure, just as a reminder.
+
+"I'll tell you!" Mars screamed. "I'll tell you!"
+
+And as the roaring flames crackled in the Amazon forest, the agonized
+Mars began to talk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+
+Zeus, Venus, Diana and Forrester sat in the Court of the Gods, listening
+to a large, blue-skinned individual with bright red eyes and two long
+white fangs coming from a lipless mouth. The eyes were like a cat's,
+with slitted pupils, and the general expression on the individual's face
+was one of feral hatred and bestial madness. However, as he had
+explained, he was not responsible for the arrangement of his features.
+He was, he kept saying, only interested in the general welfare. What was
+more, it was his business to be interested. He was, as a matter of fact,
+a cop: Bor Mellistos, of the Interstellar Police.
+
+"My rank," he had told them mildly, "is about the equivalent of your
+Detective Inspector."
+
+"Technically," he was saying now, "you are all four guilty of being
+accessories--as I understand your local law phrases it. However--"
+
+He smiled. It made him look unbelievably horrible. Forrester tried not
+to pay any attention to it.
+
+"However," he went on, "in view of the fact that none of you could
+possibly have known that you were, in fact, accessories--that is, that
+you were dealing with a criminal group, if you understand me--plus the
+fact that Mr. Forrester, as soon as he did discover the facts, called us
+at once through the power machine--I feel that we can overlook your part
+in the matter."
+
+Venus frowned. "Wait a minute. I'm not sure I understand this at all.
+What crime are the Gods supposed to have committed?"
+
+"Not crime, miss," Bor Mellistos said. His eyes twinkled. Forrester
+gulped and turned away. "Crimes. Misuse of a neural power machine, for
+one--and the domination and enslavement of a less advanced intelligent
+culture for another. Both those are very serious crimes."
+
+"Less advanced culture?" Forrester said. "You mean us?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "You see, all the members of
+my culture are attuned to the power nodes of one neural machine or
+another, but this power is not meant to be misused. We have been
+searching for this group for a long time now."
+
+"And you first got wind of them on Earth about three thousand years
+ago?"
+
+"A little more than that, actually," Bor Mellistos said, "if you don't
+mind the correction."
+
+"Not at all," Forrester said, looking at the fangs of the Detective
+Inspector.
+
+"We were alerted after the radiations had been coming in for some time.
+The search for this group wasn't nearly as urgent then."
+
+"And that's why they had to go into hiding?" Diana asked.
+
+"Correct, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "The only one we managed to catch
+was the woman calling herself Aphrodite, or Venus." He looked at the
+substitute Venus. "That's the one you replaced, miss."
+
+"How did you catch her?" Forrester pursued.
+
+"Well," Bor Mellistos said, turning a faint shade of orange with
+embarrassment, "she was--ah--engaged in a secret liaison with a mortal
+at the time. Knowing that two of the other gentlemen would be furious
+with her if they discovered this fact--"
+
+"Mars and Vulcan," Forrester supplied.
+
+"Quite correct, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "Knowing, as I say, that they
+would be furious, she had taken special pains to hide herself. When the
+alarm reached the others that we were coming, they could not warn her.
+As a result, when she returned to Mount Olympus, we were waiting for
+her."
+
+"Serves her right!" Zeus said with indignation.
+
+Bor Mellistos said: "Quite," very politely.
+
+"And then," Forrester said, "you patrolled this place for a while."
+
+Bor Mellistos nodded. "We left about three hundred years ago, finally
+deciding that they had gone elsewhere. By the way, do you know where
+they were hiding all this time?"
+
+"My guess," Diana said, "is that they were here on Earth, of course."
+
+"Naturally, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "But where?"
+
+Zeus shrugged. "All sorts of places. I ran a tailor shop myself,
+pressing and cleaning. I understand that Poseidon and Pluto entered
+freak shows--they were fine attractions, too. Pan lived mostly in the
+forests, doing well enough for himself running wild. Diana and Athena
+ran a small hairdressing studio in Queens. And Venus--"
+
+"Please," Venus interrupted.
+
+"Perfectly honorable profession," Zeus objected. "One of the oldest.
+Perhaps the very oldest. And I don't see why--"
+
+"Please!" Venus insisted.
+
+Zeus shut up with a little sigh.
+
+"At any rate," Bor Mellistos said, "that's the story up to date. And now
+there's only the question of the Overseer positions. Would you like to
+fill them?"
+
+"Who?" Venus asked. "_Us?_"
+
+"Well," Bor Mellistos said, "you have the experience. And we do need
+someone to take over. You see, three thousand years ago your technical
+attainments were not large. There was little need for an Overseer. Now,
+however, you are nearly at the stage where you will be invited to join
+the Galactic Federation. And we must make sure you do not do any
+irreparable harm to yourselves during the next few years."
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "how could we--"
+
+"If you'll permit me, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "I can explain. You
+would work much as the so-called Gods did--but with no publicity, and a
+greater sense of responsibility, if you understand me. Earth would never
+know you were there."
+
+"I'd have to--stay away from mortals?" Forrester asked.
+
+"Exactly," Bor Mellistos said.
+
+Well, Forrester thought, it had its compensations. In the three days
+that the Detective Inspector had been on Earth, Forrester had had time
+to think and to find out some things. Gerda, for instance, was getting
+married to Alvin Sherdlap. Forrester wondered what kind of love would
+let a woman choose a name like Gerda Sherdlap, and decided it was better
+not to think about it.
+
+What did he have to go back to? History classes? Students? Even students
+like Maya Wilson?
+
+Well, he was sure he could do better than that. He looked at Diana and
+became even surer.
+
+"The remaining eleven Overseers," Bor Mellistos was saying, "will be
+along shortly. You will then be able to draw fully on the machine. You
+need merely follow world events and make sure that any--ah--regrettably
+_final_ decisions are not made. Your actions will, of course, be very
+much undercover."
+
+Forrester nodded. "This mass arrest of the Gods is going to cause an
+upheaval all by itself."
+
+"Quite true, sir. But that will be worked out. I'm afraid I don't really
+know the details, but doubtless the other eleven who are coming will
+inform you more thoroughly on that score."
+
+Forrester sighed. "About the Gods--what kind of punishment will they
+receive?"
+
+"Well, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "it varies. Vulcan, for instance--the
+person who called himself Vulcan, or Hephaestus--will probably get off
+with a lighter sentence than the others. He was a mechanic, brought
+along under some duress to service the machine. But the sentences will
+be severe, you may be sure. Very severe."
+
+Forrester didn't feel like asking any more questions about that. There
+was a pause. He looked at Diana again, and she looked back at him.
+
+"Do you accept?" Bor Mellistos said.
+
+Forrester and the others nodded.
+
+Bor Mellistos said: "Very well. In that case, I will inform the other
+eleven Overseers already picked that they will be met by you here, on
+Mount Olympus, and that--"
+
+But Forrester wasn't listening.
+
+He had begun whistling, very softly.
+
+The song he was whistling was Tenting Tonight.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by 
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
+
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pagan Passions, by Randall Garrett &amp; Larry M. Harris
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
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+    p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;}
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+    hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
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+    body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
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+    .pagenum  {position: absolute;
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by 
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pagan Passions
+
+Author: Gordon Randall Garrett
+        Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+Illustrator: Robert Stanley
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PASSIONS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Geoffrey Kidd, Stephen Blundell
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 329px;"><a name="fcover" id="fcover"></a>
+<img src="images/001.jpg" width="329" height="550" alt="" title="Front Cover" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="tease" title="Back Cover">
+<a name="bcover" id="bcover"></a><h1><big>PAGAN PASSIONS</big></h1>
+
+<p class="head1"><big>Adult Science Fiction,</big><br />
+with the supernatural making complete sense.</p>
+
+
+<p class="capt">The Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece and Rome had returned
+to Earth&mdash;with all their awesome powers intact, and Earth was transformed
+almost overnight. War on any scale was outlawed, along with
+boom-and-bust economic cycles, and prudery&mdash;no change was more
+startling than the face of New York, where, for instance, the Empire
+State Building became the Tower of Zeus!</p>
+
+<p>In this totally altered world, William Forrester was an acolyte of
+Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, and therefore a teacher, in this case of a
+totally altered history&mdash;and Maya Wilson, girl student, evidently had
+a totally altered way of grading in mind&mdash;but what else would a
+worshipper of Venus, Goddess of Love, have in mind?</p>
+
+<p>This was just the first of the many Trials of Forrester, every bit as
+mighty and perilous as the Labors of Hercules. In love with Gerda
+Symes, like him a devotee of Athena, like him a frequenter of the
+great Temple of Pallas Athena (formerly known as the 42nd Street
+Library)&mdash;dedicated, in short, to the pleasures of the mind&mdash;Forrester
+was under the soft, compelling pressure of soft, compelling devotees
+of Venus, Bacchus and the like, and in need of all the strength that he
+and his Goddess, the beautiful and intellectual Athena, could muster
+to save him from the endless temptations of this new Earth.</p>
+
+<p>And into this sensuous strife strode Temple Myrmidons&mdash;religious
+cops sworn to obey orders without question or hesitation&mdash;with a
+pickup order for William Forrester.</p>
+
+<p>Where he was taken, what happened to him, the truly fantastic discoveries
+he made about himself and the Gods and Goddesses&mdash;here
+are the ingredients that make up this science fiction novel of suspense,
+intrigue, mystery and danger. For science fiction it is, with the supernatural
+making complete sense, and fun too, despite the Sword of
+Damocles hanging by a thread over Forrester's head!</p>
+
+<h2 class="center"><big><big><i>by Randall Garrett and<br />
+Larry M. Harris</i></big></big></h2></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h1>P<br />
+a<br />
+g<br />
+a<br />
+n<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">P</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">a</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">i</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">o</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">n</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span></h1>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="head2">A GALAXY Selected Novel<br />
+For<br />
+BEACON BOOKS</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="cpoemt"><div class="updown"><p class="head1"><big>P<br />
+a<br />
+g<br />
+a<br />
+n<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">P</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">a</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">i</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">o</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">n</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">s</span></big></p></div>
+
+
+
+<div class="head3"><i>By<br />
+Randall Garrett<br />
+and<br />
+Larry M. Harris</i></div>
+
+<div class="head4"><i><small>Published by</small><br />
+Galaxy Publishing Corp.<br />
+<small>New York 14, New York</small></i></div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="center">ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK ARE WHOLLY<br />
+FICTITIOUS AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO PERSONS<br />
+LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">Copyright 1959 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem"><i>Galaxy Novels</i> are sturdy, inexpensive editions of choice
+works of imaginative suspense, both original and reprint,
+selected by the editors of <i>Galaxy Magazine</i> for Beacon Books.</div>
+
+<p class="center"><b>THIS IS BEACON BOOK NO. 263</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Cover by Robert Stanley</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">Printed in the U.S.A. by<br />
+THE GUINN COMPANY INC.<br />
+New York 14, N. Y.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="trans1"><p class="trnhd">Transcriber's Note</p>
+
+<p>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
+on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors
+have been corrected without note.</p>
+
+<p>A table of contents has been provided below:</p>
+
+<ul><li><a href="#fcover">FRONT COVER</a></li>
+<li><a href="#bcover">BACK COVER</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">CHAPTER ONE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">CHAPTER TWO</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">CHAPTER THREE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">CHAPTER FOUR</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">CHAPTER FIVE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">CHAPTER SIX</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">CHAPTER SEVEN</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">CHAPTER EIGHT</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">CHAPTER NINE</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">CHAPTER TEN</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">CHAPTER ELEVEN</a></li>
+<li><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">CHAPTER TWELVE</a></li></ul>
+
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">The girl came toward him across the silent room. She
+was young. She was beautiful. Her red hair curled
+like a flame round her eager, heart-shaped face. Her arms
+reached for him. Her hands touched him. Her eyes were
+alive with the light of pure love. I am yours, the eyes
+kept saying. Do with me as you will.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester watched the eyes with a kind of fascination.</p>
+
+<p>Now the girl's mouth opened, the lips parted slightly,
+and her husky voice murmured softly: "Take me. Take
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester blinked and stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>"My God," he said. "This is ridiculous."</p>
+
+<p>The girl pressed herself against him. The sensation
+was, Forrester thought with a kind of awe, undeniably
+pleasant. He tried to remember the girl's name, and
+couldn't. She wriggled slightly and her arms went up
+around him. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck
+and her mouth moved, close to his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," she whispered. "I want you...."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester felt his head swimming. He opened his
+mouth but nothing whatever came out. He shut his
+mouth and tried to think what to do with his hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+They were hanging foolishly at his sides. The girl came
+even closer, something Forrester would have thought
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Time stopped. Forrester swam in a pink haze of sensations.
+Only one small corner of his brain refused to
+lose itself in the magnificence of the moment. In that
+corner, Forrester felt feverishly uncomfortable. He tried
+again to remember the girl's name, and failed again. Of
+course, there was really no reason why he should have
+known the name. It was, after all, only the first day of
+class.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," he said valiantly. "Miss&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Maya Wilson," the girl said in his ear. "I'm in
+your class, Mr. Forrester. Introductory World History."
+She bit his ear gently. Forrester jumped.</p>
+
+<p>None of the textbooks of propriety he had ever seen
+seemed to cover the situation he found himself in. What
+did one do when assaulted (pleasantly, to be sure, but
+assault was assault) by a lovely girl who happened to be
+one of your freshman students? She had called him Mr.
+Forrester. That was right and proper, even if it was a
+little silly. But what should he call her? Miss Wilson?</p>
+
+<p>That didn't sound right at all. But, for other reasons,
+Maya sounded even worse.</p>
+
+<p>The girl said: "Please," and added to the force of the
+word with another little wriggle against Forrester. It
+solved his problems. There was now only one thing to do,
+and he did it.</p>
+
+<p>He broke away, found himself on the other side of his
+desk, looking across at an eager, wet-lipped freshman
+student.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said. There was a lone little bead of sweat
+trickling down his forehead, across his frontal ridge and
+down one cheek. He ignored it bravely, trying to think
+what to do next. "Well," he repeated at last, in what he
+hoped was a gentle and fatherly tone. "Well, well, well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+well, well." It didn't seem to have any effect. Perhaps, he
+thought, an attempt to put things back on the teacher-student
+level might have better results. "You wanted me
+to see you?" he said in a grave, scholarly tone. Then,
+gulping briefly, he amended it in a voice that had suddenly
+grown an octave: "You wanted to see me? I mean,
+you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Maya Wilson said. "Oh, my goodness, <i>yes</i>, Mr.
+Forrester!"</p>
+
+<p>She made a sudden sensuous motion that looked to
+Forrester as if she had suddenly abolished bones. But
+it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. Quite the contrary.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester licked his lips, which were suddenly very
+dry. "Well," he said. "What about, Miss&mdash;uh&mdash;Miss
+Wilson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please call me Maya, Mr. Forrester. And I'll call you&mdash;"
+There was a second of hesitation. "Mr. Forrester," Maya
+said plaintively, "what is your first name?"</p>
+
+<p>"First name?" Forrester tried to think of his first name.
+"You want to know my first name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Maya said, "I want to call you something.
+Because after all&mdash;" She looked as if she were going to
+leap over the desk.</p>
+
+<p>"You may call me," Forrester said, grasping at his
+sanity, "Mr. Forrester."</p>
+
+<p>Maya sidled around the desk quietly. "Mr. Forrester,"
+she said, reaching for him, "I wanted to talk to you
+about the Introductory World History course."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester shivered as if someone had thrown cold
+water on his rising aspirations.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Maya whispered. Her mouth was close
+to his ear again. Other parts of her were close to other
+parts of him once more. Forrester found it difficult to
+concentrate.</p>
+
+<p>"I've <i>got</i> to pass the course, Mr. Forrester," Maya
+whispered. "I've just <i>got</i> to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Somehow, Forrester retained just enough control of his
+faculties to remember the standard answer to protestations
+like that one. "Well, I'm sure you will," he said in
+what he hoped was a calm, hearty, hopeful voice. He
+was reasonably sure it wasn't any of those, and even
+surer that it wasn't all three. "You seem like a&mdash;like a
+fairly intelligent young lady," he finished lamely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure I won't be able to remember
+all those old-fashioned dates and things. Never.
+Never." Suddenly she pressed herself wildly against him,
+throwing him slightly off balance. Locked together, the
+couple reeled against the desk. Forrester felt it digging
+into the small of his back. "I'll do anything to pass the
+course, Mr. Forrester!" she vowed. "Anything!"</p>
+
+<p>The insistent pressure of the desk top robbed the
+moment of some of its natural splendor. Forrester disengaged
+himself gently and slid a little out of the way.
+"Now, now," he said, moving rapidly across the room
+toward a blank wall. "This sort of thing isn't usually
+done, Maya. I mean, Miss Wilson. I mean&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"People just don't do such things," Forrester said
+sternly. He thought of escaping through the door, but
+the picture that arose immediately in his mind dissuaded
+him. He saw Maya pursuing him passionately through
+the halls while admiring students and faculty stared after
+them. "Anyhow," he added as an afterthought, "not at
+the <i>beginning</i> of the semester."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Maya said. She was advancing on him slowly.
+"You mean, I ought to see if I can pass the course on my
+own first, and <i>then</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," Forrester cut in.</p>
+
+<p>Maya sniffed sadly. "Oh, you just don't understand,"
+she said. "You're an Athenian, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Athenan," Forrester said automatically. It was a correction
+he found himself called upon to make ten or
+twelve times a week. "An Athenian is a resident of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+Athens, while an Athenan is a worshipper of the Goddess
+Athena. We&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," Maya said. "I suppose it's like us. We
+don't like to be called Aphrodisiacs, you know. We prefer
+Venerans."</p>
+
+<p>She was leaning across the desk. Forrester, though he
+supposed some people might be fussy about it, could see
+no objection whatever to the term Aphrodisiacs. A wild
+thought dealing with Spheres of Influence strayed into
+his mind, and he suppressed it firmly.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was a Veneran. A worshipper of Venus,
+Goddess of Love.</p>
+
+<p>Her choice of religion, he thought, was unusually
+appropriate.</p>
+
+<p>And as for his....</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">It was hard to believe that, only an hour or so before,
+he had been peaceful and calm, entirely occupied with
+his duties in the great Temple of Pallas Athena. His
+mind gave a sudden, panic-stricken leap and he was back
+there again, standing at the rear of the vast room and
+focusing all of his strained attention on it.</p>
+
+<p>The glowing embers in the golden incense tripods were
+dying now, but the heavy clouds of frankincense, still
+tingled with the sweet aroma of balsam and clove, hung
+heavily in the quiet air over the main altar. In the flickering
+illumination of the gas sconces around the walls,
+the figures on the great tapestries seemed to move with
+a subtle life of their own.</p>
+
+<p>Even though the great brazen gong had sounded for
+the last time twenty minutes before, marking the end
+of the service, there were still a few worshippers in the
+pews, seated with heads bowed in prayer to the Goddess.
+Forrester considered them carefully: average-looking
+people, a sprinkling of youngsters, and in the far corner
+a girl who looked just a little like ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester peered more closely. It wasn't just a slight
+resemblance; the girl really seemed to be Gerda Symes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+Her long blonde hair shone in the dimness. Forrester
+couldn't see her very clearly, but his imagination was
+working overtime. Her magnificently curved figure, her
+wonderful face, her fiery personality were as much a
+part of his dreams as the bed he slept on.</p>
+
+<p>If not for her brother ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed and forced himself to return his attention
+to his duties. His hands remained clasped reverently
+at his breast. Whatever battle went on in his
+mind, the remaining few people in the great room would
+see nothing but what was fitting. At any rate, he told
+himself, he made rather an imposing sight in his robes,
+and, with a stirring of vanity which he prayed Athena to
+chasten, he was rather proud of it.</p>
+
+<p>He was a fairly tall man, just a shade under six feet,
+but his slight paunch made him seem shorter than he
+was. His face was round and smooth and pleasant, and
+that made him look younger than he was: twenty-one
+instead of twenty-seven. As befitted an acolyte of the
+Goddess of Wisdom, his dark, curly hair was cut rather
+long. When he bowed to a departing worshipper, lowering
+his head in graceful acknowledgment of their deferential
+nods, he felt that he made a striking and
+commanding picture.</p>
+
+<p>Though, of course, the worshippers weren't doing him
+any honor. That bow was not for him, but directed
+toward the Owl, the symbol of the Goddess embroidered
+on the breast of the white tunic. As an acolyte, after all,
+he rated just barely above a layman; he had no powers
+whatever.</p>
+
+<p>Athena knew that, naturally. But somehow it was a
+little difficult to get it through his own doubtless too-thick
+skull. He'd often dreamed of power. Being a priest
+or a priestess, for instance&mdash;now that meant something.
+At least people paid attention to you if you were a
+member of the hierarchy, favored of the Gods. But,
+Forrester knew, there was no chance of that any more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+Either you were picked before you were twenty-one, or
+you weren't picked at all, and that was all there was to
+it. In spite of his looks, Forrester was six years past the
+limit.</p>
+
+<p>And so he'd become an acolyte. Sometimes he wondered
+how much of that had been an honest desire to
+serve Athena, and how much a sop to his worldly vanity.
+Certainly a college history instructor had enough to do,
+without adding the unpaid religious services of an acolyte
+to his work.</p>
+
+<p>But these were thoughts unworthy of his position. They
+reminded him of his own childhood, when he had
+dreamed of becoming one of the Lesser Gods, or even
+Zeus himself! Zeus had provided the best answer to those
+dreams, Forrester knew. "Now I am a man," Zeus had
+said, "and I put away childish things."</p>
+
+<p>Well, Forrester considered, it behooved him to put
+away childish things, too. A mere vanity, a mere love of
+spectacle, was unworthy of the Goddess he served. And
+his costume and bearing certainly hadn't got him very
+far with Gerda.</p>
+
+<p>He tore his eyes away from her again, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could bring his mind back to Athena, there
+was an interruption.</p>
+
+<p>Another white-clad acolyte moved out of the shadows
+to his right and came softly toward him. "Forrester?" he
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned, recognizing young Bates, a chinless
+boy of perhaps twenty-two, with the wide, innocent eyes
+of the born fanatic. But it didn't become a servant of
+Athena to think ill of her other servants, Forrester reminded
+himself. Brushing the possibility of a rude reply
+from his mind, Forrester said simply: "Yes? What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's a couple of Temple Myrmidons to see you outside,"
+Bates whispered. "I'll take over your post."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester responded with no more than a simple nod,
+as if the occurrence were one that happened every day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+But it was not only the thought of leaving Gerda that
+moved him. As he turned and strode to the small door
+that led to the side room off the main auditorium, he
+was thinking furiously under his calm exterior.</p>
+
+<p>Temple Myrmidons! What could they want with him?
+As an acolyte, he was at least immune to arrest by the
+civil police, and even the Temple Myrmidons had no
+right to take him into custody without a warrant from
+the Pontifex himself.</p>
+
+<p>But such a warrant was a serious affair. What had he
+done wrong?</p>
+
+<p>He tried to think of some cause for an arrest. Blasphemy?
+Sacrilege? But he found nothing except his interior
+thoughts. And those, he told himself with a blaze
+of anger fierce enough to surprise him, were nobody's
+business but his own and Athena's. Authorities either
+less personal or more temporal had no business dealing
+with thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond those, there wasn't a thing. No irreverence
+toward any of the Gods, in his private life, his religious
+functions or his teaching position, at least as far as he
+could recall. The Gods knew that unorthodoxy in an
+Introductory History course, for instance, was not only
+unwise but damned difficult.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, he was aware of the real position of the
+Gods. They weren't omnipotent. Their place in the
+scheme of things was high, but they were certainly not
+equal with the One who had created the Universe and
+the Gods themselves in the first place. Possibly, Forrester
+had always thought, they could be equated with the
+indefinite "angels" of the religions that had been popular
+during his grandfather's time, sixty years ago, before the
+return of the Gods. But that was an uncertain theological
+notion, and Forrester was quite ready to abandon it in
+the face of good argument to the contrary.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever they were, the Gods were certainly the Gods
+of Earth now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Omnipotent Creator had evidently left it for them
+to run, while he went about his own mysterious business,
+far from the understanding or the lives of men. The
+Gods, omnipotent or not, ran the world and everything
+in it.</p>
+
+<p>And if, like Forrester, you knew that omnipotence
+wasn't their strong point, you just didn't mention it. It
+would have been impolite to have done so&mdash;like talking
+about sight to a blind man. And "impolite" was not the
+only word that covered the case. The Gods had enough
+power, as everyone knew, to avenge any blasphemies
+against them. And careless mention of limitations on
+their power would surely be construed as blasphemy,
+true or not.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester had never even thought of doing such a
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>So what, he thought, did the Temple Myrmidons want
+with him?</p>
+
+<p>He came to the anteroom and went in, seeing the two
+of them at once. They were big, burly chaps with hard
+faces, and the pistols that were holstered at their sides
+looked completely unnecessary. Forrester took a deep
+breath and went a step forward. There he stopped,
+staring.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidons were strangers to him&mdash;and now he
+understood why. Neither was wearing the shoulder-patch
+Owl of Minerva/Athena. Both proudly sported the
+Thunderbolt of Zeus/Jupiter, the All-Father himself.</p>
+
+<p><i>Whatever it is</i>, Forrester told himself with a sinking
+sensation, <i>it's serious</i>.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Myrmidons looked him up and down in a
+casual, half-contemptuous way. "You're William Forrester?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Forrester said, knowing that he looked
+quite calm, and wondering, at the same time, whether or
+not he would live out the next few minutes. The Myrmidons
+of Zeus/Jupiter didn't come around to other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+temples on unimportant errands. "May I help you?" he
+went on, feeling foolish.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's see your ID card, please," the Myrmidon said
+in the same tone as before. That puzzled Forrester. He
+doubted whether examination of credentials was a part
+of the routine preceding arrest&mdash;or execution, for that
+matter. The usual procedure was, and probably always
+had been, to act first and apologize later, if at all.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe whatever he'd done had been so important they
+couldn't afford to make mistakes.</p>
+
+<p>But did the Myrmidon really think that an imposter
+could parade around in an acolyte's tunic in the very
+Temple of Pallas Athena without being caught by one
+of the Athenan Myrmidons, or some other acolyte or
+priest?</p>
+
+<p>Maybe a thing like that could happen in one of the
+other Temples, Forrester thought. But here at Pallas
+Athena people took the Goddess's attribute of wisdom
+seriously. What the Dionysians might do, he reflected,
+was impossible to say. Or, for that matter, the Venerans.</p>
+
+<p>But he produced his identity card and handed it to
+the Myrmidon. It was compared with a card the Myrmidon
+dug out of his pouch, and the thumbprints on
+both cards were examined side by side.</p>
+
+<p>After a while, Forrester got his card back.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon said: "We&mdash;" and began to cough.</p>
+
+<p>His companion came over to slap him on the back with
+bone-crushing blows. Forrester watched without changing
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>Some seconds passed.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Myrmidon choked, swallowed, straightened
+and said, his face purple: "All this incense. Not like
+what we've got over at the All-Father's Temple. Enough
+to choke a man to death."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester murmured politely.</p>
+
+<p>"Back to business&mdash;right?" He favored Forrester with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+a rather savage-looking smile, and Forrester allowed his
+own lips to curve gently and respectfully upward.</p>
+
+<p>It didn't look as if he <i>were</i> going to be killed, after
+all.</p>
+
+<p>"Important instructions for you," the Myrmidon said.
+"From the Pontifex Maximus. And not to be repeated
+to any mortal&mdash;understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"And that means <i>any</i> mortal," the Myrmidon said. "Girl
+friend, wife&mdash;or don't you Athenans go in for that sort of
+thing? Now, up at the All-Father's Temple, we&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His companion gave him a sharp dig in the ribs.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," the Myrmidon said. "Sure. Well. Instructions not
+to be repeated. Right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>Instructions? From the Pontifex Maximus? <i>Secret</i> instructions?</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's mind spun dizzily. This was no arrest. This
+was something very special and unique. He tried once
+more to imagine what it was going to be, and gave it
+up in wonder.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon produced another card from his pouch.
+There was nothing on it but the golden Thunderbolt
+of the All-Father&mdash;but that was quite enough.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester accepted the card dumbly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will report to the Tower of Zeus at eighteen
+hundred hours exactly," the Myrmidon said. "Got that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean today?" Forrester said, and cursed himself
+for sounding stupid. But the Myrmidon appeared not to
+have noticed.</p>
+
+<p>"Today, sure," he said. "Eighteen hundred. Just present
+this card."</p>
+
+<p>He stepped back, obviously getting ready to leave.
+Forrester watched him for one long second, and then
+burst out: "What do I do after that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just be a good boy. Do what you're told. Ask no
+questions. It's better that way."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester thought of six separate replies and settled on
+a seventh. "All right," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And remember," the Myrmidon said, at the outside
+door, "don't mention this to anyone. <i>Not anyone!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The door banged shut.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester found himself staring at the card he held.
+He put it away in his case, alongside the ID card. Then,
+dazed, he went on back to the acolyte's sacristy, took
+off his white tunic and put on his street clothes.</p>
+
+<p>What did they want with him at the Tower of Zeus?
+It didn't really sound like an arrest. If it had been that,
+the Myrmidons themselves would have taken him.</p>
+
+<p>So what did the Pontifex Maximus want with William
+Forrester?</p>
+
+<p>He spent some time considering it, and then, taking a
+deep breath, he forced it out of his mind. He would know
+at eighteen hundred, and such were the ways of the
+Gods that he would not know one second before.</p>
+
+<p>So there was no point in worrying about it, he told
+himself. He almost made himself believe it.</p>
+
+<p>But wiping speculation out of his mind left an unwelcome
+and uneasy vacancy. Forrester replaced it with
+thought of the morning's service in the Temple. Such
+devotion was probably valuable, anyhow, in a spiritual
+sense. It brought him closer to the Gods....</p>
+
+<p>The Gods he wanted desperately to be like.</p>
+
+<p>That, he told himself sharply, was foolishness of the
+most senseless kind.</p>
+
+<p>He blinked it away.</p>
+
+<p>The Goddess Athena had appeared herself at the service&mdash;sufficient
+reason for thinking of it now. The statuesquely
+beautiful Goddess with her severely swept-back
+blonde hair and her deep gray eyes was the embodiment
+of the wisdom and strength for which her worshippers
+especially prayed. Her beauty was almost unworldly,
+impossible of existence in a world which contained
+mortals.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She reminded Forrester, ever so slightly (and, of
+course, in a reverent way), of Gerda Symes.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed to be a great many forbidden thoughts
+floating around this day. Resolutely, Forrester went back
+to thinking about the morning's service.</p>
+
+<p>The Goddess had appeared only long enough to impart
+her blessing, but her calm, beautifully controlled contralto
+voice had brought a sense of peace to everyone
+in the auditorium. To be doggedly practical, there was
+no way of knowing whether the Goddess's presence was
+an appearance&mdash;in person, or an "appearance" by Divine
+Vision. But that really didn't matter. The effect was
+always just the same.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester went on out the front portals of the Temple
+of Wisdom and down the long, wide steps onto Fifth
+Avenue. He paid homage with a passing glance to the
+great Owls flanking the entrance. Symbolic of Athena,
+they had replaced the stone lions which had formerly
+stood there.</p>
+
+<p>The street was busy with hurrying crowds, enlivened
+here and there by Temple Myrmidons&mdash;from the All-Father,
+from Bacchus, from Venus&mdash;even one from Pallas
+Athena herself, a broad-beamed swaggerer whom Forrester
+knew and disliked. The man came striding up the
+steps, greeted Forrester with a bare nod, and disappeared
+at top speed into the Temple.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed and glanced south, down toward
+34th Street, where the huge Tower of Zeus, a hundred
+and four stories high, loomed over all the other buildings
+in the city.</p>
+
+<p>At eighteen hundred he would be in that tower&mdash;for
+what purpose, he had no idea.</p>
+
+<p>Well, that was in the future, and he ...</p>
+
+<p>A voice said: "Well! Hello, Bill!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned, knowing exactly what to expect, and
+disliking it in advance. The bluff over-heartiness of the
+voice was matched by the gross and hairy figure that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+confronted him. In some disarray, and managing to look
+as if he needed simultaneously a bath, a shave, a disinfecting
+and a purgative, the figure approached Forrester
+with a rolling walk that was too flat-footed for anything
+except an elephant.</p>
+
+<p>"How's the Owl-boy today?" said the voice, and the
+body stuck out a flabby, hairy white hand.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester winced. "I'm fine," he said evenly. "And how's
+the winebibber?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you," the figure said. "A little wine for your
+Stomach's sake, as good old Bacchus always says. Only
+we make it a lot, eh?" He winked and nudged Forrester
+in the ribs.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, sure," Forrester said. He wished desperately
+that he could take the gross fool and tear him into tastefully
+arranged pieces. But there was always Gerda. And
+since this particular idiot happened to be her younger
+brother, Ed Symes, anything in the nature of violence
+was unthinkable.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda's opinion of her brother was touching, reverent,
+and&mdash;Forrester thought savagely&mdash;not in the least borne
+out by any discoverable facts.</p>
+
+<p>And a worshipper of Bacchus! Not that Forrester had
+anything against the orgiastic rites indulged in by the
+Dionysians, the Panites, the Apollones or even the worst
+and wildest of them all, the Venerans. If that was how
+the Gods wanted to be worshipped, then that was how
+they should be worshipped.</p>
+
+<p>And, as a matter of fact, it sounded like fun&mdash;if, Forrester
+considered, entirely too public for his taste.</p>
+
+<p>If he preferred the quieter rites of Athena, or of Juno,
+Diana or Ceres&mdash;and even Ceresians became a little wild
+during the spring fertility rites, especially in the country,
+where the farmers depended on her for successful crops&mdash;well,
+that was no more than a personal preference.</p>
+
+<p>But the idea of Ed Symes involved in a Bacchic orgy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+was just a little too much for the normal mind, or the
+normal stomach.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey," Ed said suddenly. "Where's Gerda? Still in
+the Temple?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see her," Forrester said. There <i>had</i> been a
+woman who'd looked like her. But that hadn't been
+Gerda. <i>She'd</i> have waited for him here.</p>
+
+<p>And&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Funny," Ed said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" Forrester said. "I didn't see her. I don't think
+she attended the service this morning, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>He wanted very badly to hit Symes. Just once. But
+he knew he couldn't.</p>
+
+<p>First of all, there was Gerda. And then, as an acolyte, he
+was proscribed by law from brawling. No one would hit
+an acolyte; and if the acolyte were built like Forrester,
+striking another man might be the equivalent of murder.
+One good blow from Forrester's fist might break the
+average man's jaw.</p>
+
+<p>That was, he discovered, a surprisingly pleasant
+thought. But he made himself keep still as the fat fool
+went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny she didn't attend," Symes said. "But maybe
+she's gotten wise to herself. There was a celebration up
+at the Temple of Pan in Central Park, starting at midnight,
+and going on through the morning. Spring Rites.
+Maybe she went there."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it," Forrester said instantly. "That's hardly
+her type of worship."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it?" Symes said.</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't fit her. That kind of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know. Gerda's like you. A little stuffy."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not being stuffy," Forrester started to explain.
+"It's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Symes said. "Only she's not as much of a prude
+as you are. I couldn't stand her if she were."</p>
+
+<p>"On the other hand, she's not a&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not an Owl-boy of Owl-boys like you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a drunken blockhead," Forrester finished triumphantly.
+"At least she's got a decent respect for wisdom
+and learning."</p>
+
+<p>Symes stepped back, a movement for which Forrester
+felt grateful. No matter how far away Ed Symes was,
+he was still too close.</p>
+
+<p>"Who you calling a blockhead, buster?" Symes said.
+His eyes narrowed to piggish little slits.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took a deep breath and reminded himself
+not to hit the other man. "You," he said, almost mildly.
+"If brains were radium, you couldn't make a flicker on
+a scintillation counter."</p>
+
+<p>It was just a little doubtful that Symes understood the
+insult. But he obviously knew it had been one. His face
+changed color to a kind of grayish purple, and his hands
+clenched slowly at his sides. Forrester stood watching
+him quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Symes made a sound like <i>Rrr</i> and took a breath. "If
+you weren't an acolyte, I'd take a poke at you just to see
+you bounce."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you would," Forrester agreed politely.</p>
+
+<p>Symes went <i>Rrr</i> again and there was a longer silence.
+Then he said: "Not that I'd hit you anyhow, buster. It'd
+go against my grain. Not the acolyte business&mdash;if you
+didn't look so much like Bacchus, I'd take the chance."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's jaw ached. In a second he realized why;
+he was clenching his teeth tightly. Perhaps it was true
+that he did look a little like Bacchus, but not enough
+for Ed Symes to kid about it.</p>
+
+<p>Symes grinned at him. Symes undoubtedly thought
+the grin gave him a pleasant and carefree expression. It
+didn't. "Suppose I go have a look for Gerda myself," he
+said casually, heading up the stairs toward the temple
+entrance. "After all, you're so busy looking at books,
+you might have missed her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And what, Forrester asked himself, was the answer to
+that&mdash;except a punch in the mouth?</p>
+
+<p>It really didn't matter, anyhow. Symes was on his way
+into the temple, and Forrester could just ignore him.</p>
+
+<p>But, damn it, why did he let the young idiot get his
+goat that way? Didn't he have enough self-control just
+to ignore Symes and his oafish insults?</p>
+
+<p>Forrester supposed sadly that he didn't. Oh, well, it
+just made another quality he had to pray to Athena for.</p>
+
+<p>Then he glanced at his wristwatch and stopped thinking
+about Symes entirely.</p>
+
+<p>It was twelve-forty-five. He had to be at work at
+thirteen hundred.</p>
+
+<p>Still angry, underneath the sudden need for speed,
+he turned and sprinted toward the subway.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"And thus," Forrester said tiredly, "having attempted
+to make himself the equal of the Gods, Man was given a
+punishment befitting such arrogance." He paused and
+took a breath, surveying the twenty-odd students in the
+classroom (and some, he told himself wryly, <i>very</i> odd)
+with a sort of benign boredom.</p>
+
+<p>History I, Introductory Survey of World History, was
+a simple enough course to teach, but its very simplicity
+was its undoing, Forrester thought. The deadly dullness
+of the day-after-day routine was enough to wear out
+the strongest soul.</p>
+
+<p>Freshmen, too, seemed to get stupider every year.
+Certainly, when <i>he'd</i> been seventeen, he'd been different
+altogether. Studious, earnest, questioning ...</p>
+
+<p>Then he stopped himself and grinned. He'd probably
+seemed even worse to his own instructors.</p>
+
+<p>Where had he been? Slowly, he picked up the thread.
+There was a young blonde girl watching him eagerly
+from a front seat. What was her name? Forrester tried
+to recall it and couldn't. Well, this was only the first day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+of term. He'd get to know them all soon enough&mdash;well
+enough, anyhow, to dislike most of them.</p>
+
+<p>But the eager expression on the girl's face unnerved
+him a little. The rest of the class wasn't paying anything
+like such strict attention. As a matter of fact, Forrester
+suspected two young boys in the back of being in a
+trance.</p>
+
+<p>Well, he could stop that. But ...</p>
+
+<p>She was really quite attractive, Forrester told himself.
+Of course, she was nothing but a fresh, pretty, eager
+seventeen-year-old, with a figure that ...</p>
+
+<p>She was, Forrester reminded himself sternly, a student.</p>
+
+<p>And he was supposed to be an instructor.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat. "Man went hog-wild with his
+new-found freedom from divine guidance," he said.
+"Woman did, too, as a matter of fact."</p>
+
+<p>Now what unholy devil had made him say that? It
+wasn't a part of the normal lecture for first day of the
+new term. It was&mdash;well, it was just a little risqu&eacute; for
+students. Some of their parents might complain, and ...</p>
+
+<p>But the girl in the front row was smiling appreciatively.
+<i>I wonder what she's doing in an Introductory
+course</i>, Forrester thought, leaping with no evidence at
+all to the conclusion that the girl's mind was much too
+fine and educated to be subjected to the general run of
+classes. <i>Private tutoring</i> ... he began, and then cut
+himself off sharply, found his place in the lecture again
+and went on:</p>
+
+<p>"When the Gods decided to sit back and observe for
+a few thousand years, they allowed Man to go his merry
+way, just to teach him a lesson."</p>
+
+<p>The boys in the back of the room were definitely in a
+trance.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed. "And the inevitable happened," he
+said. "From the eighth century <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, Old Style, until the
+year 1971 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span>, Old Style, Man's lot went from bad to
+worse. Without the Gods to guide him he bred bigger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+and bigger wars and greater and greater empires&mdash;beginning
+with the conquests of the mad Alexander of
+Macedonia and culminating in the opposing Soviet and
+American Spheres of Influence during the last century."</p>
+
+<p>Spheres of Influence....</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's gaze fell on the blonde girl again. She certainly
+had a well-developed figure. And she did seem so
+eager and attentive. He smiled at her tentatively. She
+smiled back.</p>
+
+<p>"Urg ..." he said aloud.</p>
+
+<p>The class didn't seem to notice. That, Forrester told
+himself sourly, was probably because they weren't
+listening.</p>
+
+<p>He swallowed, wrenched his gaze from the girl, and
+said: "The Soviet-American standoff&mdash;for that is what it
+was&mdash;would most probably have resulted in the destruction
+of the human race." It had no effect on the class.
+The destruction of the human race interested nobody.
+"However," Forrester said gamely, "this form of insanity
+was too much for the Gods to allow. They therefore&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The bell rang, signifying the end of the period. Forrester
+didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said. "That's all for today. Your first
+assignment will be to read and carefully study Chapters
+One and Two of the textbook."</p>
+
+<p>Silence gave way to a clatter of noise as the students
+began to file out. Forrester saw the front-row blonde rise
+slowly and gracefully. Any doubts he might have entertained
+(that is, he told himself wryly, any <i>entertaining</i>
+doubts) about her figure were resolved magnificently.
+He felt a little sweat on the palm of his hands, told
+himself that he was being silly, and then answered himself
+that the hell he was.</p>
+
+<p>The blonde gave him a slow, sweet smile. The smile
+promised a good deal more than Forrester thought likely
+of fulfillment.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It would have been impolite, he assured himself, not
+to have done so.</p>
+
+<p>The girl left the room, and a remaining crowd of
+students hurried out after her. The crowd included two
+blinking boys, awakened by the bell from what had
+certainly been a trance. Forrester made a mental note to
+inquire after their records and to speak with the boys
+himself when he got the chance.</p>
+
+<p>No sense in disturbing a whole class to discipline them.</p>
+
+<p>He stacked his papers carefully, taking a good long
+time about it in order to relax himself and let his palms
+dry. His mind drifted back to the blonde, and he reined
+it in with an effort and let it go exploring again on safer
+ground. The class itself ... actually, he thought, he
+rather liked teaching. In spite of the petty irritations
+that came from driving necessary knowledge into the
+heads of stubbornly unwilling students, it was a satisfying
+and important job. And, of course, it was an honor
+to hold the position he did. Ever since it had been revealed
+that the goddess Columbia was another manifestation
+of Pallas Athena herself, the University had grown
+tremendously in stature.</p>
+
+<p>And after all ...</p>
+
+<p>Whistling faintly behind his teeth, Forrester zipped
+up his filled briefcase and went out into the hall. He
+ignored the masses of students swirling back and forth
+in the corridors, and, finding a stairway, went up to his
+second-floor office.</p>
+
+<p>He fumbled for his key, found it, and opened the
+ground-glass door.</p>
+
+<p>Then, stepping in, he came to a full stop.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had been waiting for him&mdash;Maya Wilson.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And now here she was, talking about the Goddess of
+Love. Forrester gulped.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," he said at random, "I'm an Athenan." He
+remembered that he had already said that. Did it matter?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+"But what does all this have to do with your passing, or
+not passing, the course?" he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Maya said. "Well, I prayed to Aphrodite for
+help in passing the course. And the Temple Priestess
+told me I'd have to make a sacrifice to the Goddess. In
+a way."</p>
+
+<p>"A sacrifice?" Forrester gulped. "You mean&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the First Sacrifice," she laughed. "That was done
+with solemn ceremonies when I was seventeen."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, wait a minute&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please," Maya said. "Won't you listen to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester looked at her limpid blue eyes and her lovely
+face. "Sure. Sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, it's like this. If a person loves a subject,
+it's that much easier to understand it. And the Goddess
+has promised me that if I love the instructor, I'll love
+the subject. It's like sympathetic magic&mdash;see?"</p>
+
+<p>Her explanation was so brisk and simple that Forrester
+recoiled. "Hold on," he said. "Just hold your horses. Do
+you mean you're in love with me?"</p>
+
+<p>Maya smiled. "I think so," she said, and very suddenly
+she was on Forrester's side of the desk, pressing
+up against him. Her hand caressed the back of his neck
+and her fingers tangled in his hair. "Kiss me and let's
+find out."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">Resistance, such as it was, crumbled in a hurry. Forrester
+complied with fervor. An endless time went
+by, punctuated only by short breaths between the kisses.
+Forrester's hands began to rove.</p>
+
+<p>So did Maya's.</p>
+
+<p>She began to unbutton his shirt.</p>
+
+<p>Not to be outdone, his own fingers got busy with buttons,
+zippers, hooks and the other temporary fastenings
+with which female clothing is encumbered. He was
+swimming in a red sea of passion and the Egyptians were
+nowhere in sight. Absently, he got an arm out of his
+shirt, and at the same time somehow managed to undo
+the final button of a series. Maya's blouse fell free.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester felt like stout Cortez.</p>
+
+<p>He pulled the girl to him, feeling the surprisingly cool
+touch of her flesh against his. Under the blouse and
+skirt, he was discovering, she wore very little, and that
+was just as well; nagging thoughts about the doubtful
+privacy of his office were beginning to assail him.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he persevered. Maya was as eager as he
+had ever dreamed of being, and their embrace reached a
+height of passion and began to climb and climb to hitherto
+unknown peaks of sensation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester was busy for some time discovering things
+he had never known, and a lot of things he had known
+before, but never so well. Every motion was met with a
+reaction that was more than equal and opposite, every
+sensation unlocked the doors to whole galleries of new
+sensations. Higher and higher went his emotional thermometer,
+higher and higher and higher and higher
+and ...</p>
+
+<p>Very suddenly, he discovered how to breathe again,
+and it was over.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness," Maya said after a brief resting spell.
+"I suppose I <i>must</i> love you for sure. My <i>good</i>ness!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Forrester said. "And now&mdash;if you'll pardon the
+indelicacy and hand me my pants&mdash;" he found he was
+still puffing a little and paused until he could go on&mdash;"I've
+got an appointment I simply can't afford to miss."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," Maya said. "But Mr. Forrester&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He rolled over and looked at her while he began dressing.
+"I suppose it would be all right if you called me
+Bill," he said carefully.</p>
+
+<p>"In class, too?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester shook his head. "No," he said. "Not in class."</p>
+
+<p>"But what I wanted to ask&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr.&mdash;Bill&mdash;do you think I'll pass Introductory World
+History?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester considered that question. There was certainly
+a wide variety of answers he could construct. When he
+had finished buttoning his shirt he had decided on one.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why not," he said, "so long as you complete
+your assignments regularly."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Nearly two hours later, feeling somewhat light-headed
+but otherwise in perfectly magnificent fettle, Forrester
+found himself on the downtown subway. He'd showered
+and changed and he was whistling a gay little tune as he
+checked his watch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The time was five minutes to five. He had just over
+an hour before he was due to appear at the Tower of
+Zeus All-Father, but it was better to be a few minutes
+early than even a single second late.</p>
+
+<p>The train ride was a little bumpy, but Forrester didn't
+really mind. He was pretty well past being irritated by
+anything. Nevertheless, he was speculating with just a
+faint unease as to what the Pontifex Maximus wanted
+with him. What was in store for him at the strange
+appointment?</p>
+
+<p>And why all the secrecy?</p>
+
+<p>His brooding was interrupted right away. At 100th
+Street, a bearded old man got on and sat down next to
+him. He nudged Forrester in the ribs and muttered:
+"Look at that now, Daddy-O. Look at that."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" Forrester said, constrained into conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn subways, that's what," the old man said.
+"Worse every year. Bumpier and slower and worse. Just
+look around, Daddy-O. Look around."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't quite say&mdash;" Forrester began, but the old
+man gave him another dig in the ribs and cut in:</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't say, wouldn't say," he muttered. "Listen,
+man, there ain't been an improvement in years. You
+realize that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No progress, man, not in more than half a century.
+Listen, when I was a teen king&mdash;War Councilor for the
+Boppers, I was, and let me tell you that was big time,
+Daddy-O&mdash;when I was a teen king, we were going places.
+Going places for real. Mars. Venus. We were going to
+have spaceships, man."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester smiled spasmically at the old man. "I'm
+sure you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what happened?" the old man interrupted. "Tell
+you what happened, man. We never got to Mars and
+Venus. Mars and Venus came to us instead. Right along
+with Jupiter and Neptune and Pluto and all the rest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+the Gods. And we had no progress ever since that day,
+Daddy-O, no progress at all and you can believe it."</p>
+
+<p>He dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat
+back with melancholy satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said mildly, "what good is progress?"
+The old man, he assured himself after a moment's reflection,
+wasn't actually saying anything blasphemous.
+After all, the Gods didn't expect their worshippers to
+be mindless slaves.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have
+hated reporting the old man. Something in the outdated
+slang made him feel&mdash;almost patriotic. The old man was
+a part of America, a respected and important part.</p>
+
+<p>The respected part of America made itself felt again
+in Forrester's ribs. "Progress?" the old man said. "What
+good's progress? Listen, Daddy-O&mdash;how can the human
+race get anywhere without progress? Answer me that,
+will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going
+any place now. No place at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Now look," Forrester said patiently, "progress is an
+outmoded idea. We've got to be in step with the times.
+We've got to ask ourselves what progress ever did for us.
+How did we stand when the Gods returned?" For a
+brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went
+on: "Half the world ready to fight the other half with
+weapons that would have wiped both halves out. You
+ought to be grateful the Gods returned when they did."</p>
+
+<p>"But we're getting into Nowheresville, man," the old
+man complained. "We're not in orbit. We can't progress."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man,
+anyway? The answer came to him as soon as he'd asked
+the question. He wanted to keep his mind off the Tower
+of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an unpleasant
+answer; Forrester blanked it out.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, friend," he said. "What have you got? Just what
+mankind's been looking for all these centuries. Security.
+You've got security. Nobody's going to blow you to pieces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish overnight. I
+mean, if you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I got a job," the old man said.</p>
+
+<p>"Really?" Forrester said politely. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Retired. And it's a tough job, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"And anyhow," the old man went on, "what's all this
+got to do with progress?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester thought. "Well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, nothing," the old man said. "Listen to me, man.
+I say nothing against the Gods&mdash;right? Nothing at all.
+Wouldn't want to do anything like that. But at the same
+time, it looks to me like we ought to be able to&mdash;reap the
+fruits of our labors. I read that some place."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In the three thousand years the Gods were gone, we
+weren't a total loss, man. Not anything like. We discovered
+a lot. About nature and science and like that.
+We invented science all by ourselves. So how come the
+Gods don't let us use it?" The old man dug his elbow
+once more into Forrester's rib. "How come?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Gods haven't taken anything away from us,"
+Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't they?" the old man demanded. "How about
+television? Want to answer that one, Daddy-O? Years
+ago, everybody had a television set. Color and 3-D. The
+most. The end. Now there's no television at all. Why
+not? What happened to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said reasonably, "what good is television?"</p>
+
+<p>"What good?" Once more Forrester's rib felt the old
+man's elbow. "Let me tell you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Forrester interrupted, suddenly irritated with the
+whole conversation. "Let <i>me</i> tell <i>you</i>. The trouble with
+your generation was that all they wanted to do was sit
+around on their <i>glutei maximi</i> and be entertained. Like
+a bunch of hypnotized geese. They didn't want to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+anything for themselves. Half of them couldn't even read.
+And now you want to tell me that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold it, Daddy-O," the old man said. "You're telling
+me that the Gods took away television just because we
+were a bunch of hypnotized geese. That it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it."</p>
+
+<p>"Okay," the old man said. "So tell me&mdash;what are we
+now? With the Gods and everything. I mean, man,
+really&mdash;what are we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now?" Forrester said. "Now you're retired. You're a
+bunch of retired hypnotized geese."</p>
+
+<p>The doors of the train slid creakily open and Forrester
+got out onto the 34th Street platform, walking angrily
+toward a stairway without looking back.</p>
+
+<p>True enough, the old man hadn't committed blasphemy,
+but it had certainly come close enough there at
+the end. And if pokes with the elbow weren't declared
+blasphemous, or at least equivalent to malicious mischief,
+he thought, there was no justice in the world.</p>
+
+<p>The real trouble was that the man had had no respect
+for the Gods. There were a good many of the older generation
+like him. They seemed to feel that humanity had
+been better off when the Gods had been away. Forrester
+couldn't see it, and felt vaguely uncomfortable in the
+presence of someone who believed it. After all, mankind
+<i>had</i> been on the verge of mass suicide, and the Gods
+had mercifully come back from their self-imposed exile
+and taken care of things. The exile had been designed
+to prove, in the drastic laboratory of three thousand
+years, that Man by himself headed like a lemming for
+self-destruction. And, for Forrester, the point had been
+proven.</p>
+
+<p>Yet now that the human race had been saved, there
+were still men who griped about the Gods and their
+return. Forrester silently wished the pack of them in
+Hades, enjoying the company of Pluto and his ilk.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of 34th and Broadway, as he came out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+of the subway tunnels, he bought a copy of the <i>News</i>
+and glanced quickly through the headlines. But, as
+always, there was little sensational news. Mars was
+doing pretty well for himself, of course: there were two
+wars going on in Asia, one in Europe and three revolutions
+in South and Central America. That last did
+seem to be overdoing things a bit, but not seriously.
+Forrester shrugged, wondering vaguely when the United
+States was going to have its turn.</p>
+
+<p>But he couldn't concentrate on the paper and, after
+a little while, he got rid of it and took a look at his
+watch.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty to six. Forrester decided he could use a drink
+to brace himself and steady his nerves.</p>
+
+<p>Just one.</p>
+
+<p>On Sixth Avenue, near 34th Street, there was a bar
+called, for some obscure reason, the <i>Boat House</i>. Forrester
+headed for it, went inside and leaned against the
+bar. The bartender, a tall man with crew-cut reddish
+hair, raised his eyebrows in a questioning fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"What'll it be, friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Vodka and ginger ale," Forrester said. "A double."</p>
+
+<p>It was still, he told himself uneasily, just one drink.
+And that was all he was going to have.</p>
+
+<p>The bartender brought it and Forrester sipped at it,
+watching his reflection in the mirror and wishing he felt
+easier in his mind about the whole Tower of Zeus affair.
+Then, very suddenly, he noticed that the man next to
+him was looking at him oddly. Forrester didn't like the
+look or, for that matter, the man himself, a raw-boned
+giant with deep-set eyes and a shock of dead-black hair,
+but so long as nobody bothered him, Forrester wasn't
+going to start anything.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, somebody bothered him. The tall man
+leaned over and said loudly: "What's the matter with
+you, bud? An infidel or something?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester hesitated. The accusation that he didn't believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+in the practices ordained by the Gods themselves
+was an irritating one. But he could see the other side of
+the question, too. The tall man was undoubtedly a
+Dionysian; and, more than that, a member of a small
+sect inside the general <i>corpus</i> of Bacchus/Dionysus
+worshippers. He held that it was wrong to distill grape
+or grain products "too far," until there was nothing left
+but the alcohol.</p>
+
+<p>That meant disapproval of gin and vodka on the
+grounds that, unlike whiskey or brandy, they'd had the
+"life" distilled out of them.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester, however, was not really fond of brandy
+and whiskey. He decided to explain this to the tall man,
+but at the same time he began to develop the sinking
+feeling that it wasn't going to do any good.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, well, there was still room for patience. "Don't fire,"
+as Mars had said somewhere, "until you see the whites
+of their eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm no infidel," Forrester said politely. "You see,
+I'm&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>No infidel?</i>" the tall man roared. "Then I tell you
+what you do. You pour that slop out and drink a proper
+drink." He made a grab for Forrester's glass.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester jerked it back, sloshing it a little in the
+process&mdash;and a few drops splattered on the other's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Now look here," Forrester said in a reasonable tone
+of voice. "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You spilling that stuff on me? What the blazes are
+you doing that for? I got a good mind to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Another man stepped into the altercation. This was
+a square-built, bullet-headed man with an air that was
+both truculent and eager. "What's the matter, Herb?" he
+asked the tall man. "This guy giving you trouble or something?"
+He favored Forrester with a fierce scowl. Forrester
+smiled pleasantly back, a little unsure as to how
+to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>"This guy?" Herb said. "<i>Trouble?</i> Sam, he's an <i>infidel</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester said: "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He drinks vodka," Herb said. "And I guess he drinks
+gin too."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Bacchus," Sam said in a tone of wonder. "You
+run into them everywhere these days. Can't get away
+from the sons of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now&mdash;" Forrester started.</p>
+
+<p>"And not only that," Herb said, "but he spills the stuff
+on me. Just because I ask him to have a regular drink
+like a man."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Spills</i> it on you?" Sam said.</p>
+
+<p>Herb said: "Look," and extended his arm. On the
+sleeve of his jacket a few spots were slowly drying.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's too much," Sam said heavily. "Just too
+damn much." He scowled at Forrester again. "You know,
+buddy, somebody ought to teach guys like you a lesson."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took a swallow of his drink and set the glass
+down unhurriedly. If either Herb or Sam attacked him,
+he knew his oath would permit his fighting back. And
+after the day he'd had, he rather looked forward to the
+chance. But he had to do his part to hold off an actual
+fight. "Now look here, friend&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Friend?" Sam said. "Don't call me your friend, buddy.
+I make no friends with infidels."</p>
+
+<p>And, at that point, Forrester realized that he wasn't
+going to have a fight with Herb or Sam. He was going
+to have a fight with Herb <i>and</i> Sam&mdash;and with the third
+gentleman, a shaggy, beefy man who needed a shave,
+who stepped up behind them and asked: "Trouble?" in
+a voice that indicated that trouble was exactly what he
+was looking for.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it is trouble, at that," Herb said tightly, without
+turning around. "This infidel here's been committing
+blasphemy."</p>
+
+<p>Three against one wasn't as happy a thought as an
+even fight had been, but it was too late to back out now.
+"That's a lie!" Forrester snapped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Call me a liar?" Sam roared. He stepped forward and
+swung a hamlike fist at Forrester's head.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester ducked. The heavy fist swished by his ear
+harmlessly, and he felt a strange new mixture of elation
+and fright. He grabbed his vodka-and-ginger from the
+bar and swung it in a single sweeping arc before him.
+Liquid rained on the faces of the three men.</p>
+
+<p>Sam was still a little off balance. Forrester slammed
+the edge of his right hand into his side, and Sam
+stumbled to the floor. In the same motion, Forrester let
+fly with the now-empty glass. The shaggy man stood
+directly in his path. The glass conked him on the forehead
+and bounced to the floor, where it shattered unnoticed.
+The shaggy man blinked and Forrester, moving
+forward, discovered that he had no time to follow matters
+up in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>Herb was snarling inarticulately, wiping vodka-and-ginger
+from his eyes. He blocked Forrester's advance
+toward the shaggy man. Forrester smiled gently and put
+a hard fist into Herb's solar plexus. The tall man doubled
+up in completely silent agony.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took a breath and started forward again. The
+shaggy man was shaking his head, trying to clear it.</p>
+
+<p>Then Forrester's head became unclear. Something had
+banged against his right temple and the room was suddenly
+filled with pain and small, hard stars. Sam, Forrester
+discovered, had managed to get to his feet. The
+something had been a small brass ashtray that Sam had
+thrown at him.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, he stayed on his feet. The stars were still
+swirling around him, but he began to be able to see
+through them, and peered at the figure of the shaggy
+man, coming at him again. He let his knees bend a little,
+as if he were going to pass out. The shaggy man seemed
+to gain confidence from this, and stepped in carefully to
+kick Forrester in the stomach.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester stepped back, grabbed the upcoming foot,
+and stood straight, lifting the foot and levering it into
+the air.</p>
+
+<p>The shaggy man, surprise written all over his shaveless
+face, went over backward with great abruptness. His
+head hit the floor with an audible and satisfying <i>whack</i>,
+and then his limbs settled and he remained there,
+sprawled out and very quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester, meanwhile, was whirling to meet Sam, who
+was coming in like a bear, his arms outspread and a
+glaze of hatred in his eyes. Forrester, expressionless,
+ducked under the man's flailing arms and slammed a
+fist into his midsection. It was a harder midsection than
+he'd expected; unlike Herb, Sam had good muscles, and
+hitting them was like hitting thick rubber. The blow
+didn't put Sam down. It only made him gasp once.</p>
+
+<p>That was enough. Forrester doubled his right fist
+and let Sam have one more blow, this one into the face.
+Sam's mouth opened as his eyes closed. His left arm
+pawed the air aimlessly for a tenth of a second.</p>
+
+<p>Then he dropped like an empty overcoat.</p>
+
+<p>There was a second of absolute silence. Then Forrester
+heard a noise behind him and whirled.</p>
+
+<p>But it was only Herb, doubled up on the floor and
+very quietly retching.</p>
+
+<p>Catching his breath, Forrester looked around him.
+The fight had attracted a lot of attention from the other
+customers in the bar, but none of them seemed to want
+to prolong it by joining in.</p>
+
+<p>They were all trying to look as if they were minding
+their own business, while the bartender ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester stared. The bartender was at the other end
+of the bar, far away from the scene of action.</p>
+
+<p>He was, as Forrester saw him, just hanging up the
+telephone.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester put a bill on the bar, turned and walked out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+into the street. He had absolutely no desire to get mixed
+up with the secular police.</p>
+
+<p>After all, he had an appointment to keep. And now&mdash;after
+a quiet drink that had turned into a three-against-one
+battle royal&mdash;he had to go and keep it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">It wasn't a very long walk from the <i>Boat House</i> to the
+Tower of Zeus, but it was long enough. By the time
+Forrester got to the Tower, he was feeling a lot worse
+than he'd felt when he left the bar. Being perfectly frank
+with himself, he admitted that he felt terrible.</p>
+
+<p>The blow from the brass ashtray wasn't a sharp pain
+any longer. It had developed into a nice, dependable
+ache that had spread all over the side of his head. And
+his right eye was beginning to swell, probably from the
+same cause. He'd skinned the knuckles of his right hand,
+too, probably on Sam's face, and they set up their own
+smarting.</p>
+
+<p>True, it wasn't a bad list of injuries to result from
+the odds he'd faced. But that wasn't the point.</p>
+
+<p>You just didn't go up to the Tower of Zeus looking
+like a back-street brawler.</p>
+
+<p>However, there was no help for it. He straightened his
+jacket and went in through the Fifth Avenue entrance
+of the Tower, heading for the first bank of elevators.</p>
+
+<p>Zeus All-Father would know everything about his
+fight, and would know that it hadn't been his fault.
+(Hadn't it, though? Forrester asked himself. He remembered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+the joy he'd felt at the prospect of battle. How
+far would it count against him?) Zeus All-Father, through
+his priests, would make what allowances should be made.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester hoped that the Godhead was feeling in a
+kind and merciful mood.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the bank of elevators, and the burly
+Myrmidon who stood there, wearing the lightning-bolt
+shoulder patch of the All-Father. Ahead of him was a
+chattering crowd of five: mother, father, two daughters
+and a small son, all obviously out-of-towners. The Tower
+of Zeus was always a big tourist attraction. The Myrmidon
+directed them to the stairway that led to the second-floor
+Arcade, the main attraction for most visitors to the
+Tower. The Temple of Sacrifice was located up there,
+while the ground floor was filled with glass-fronted
+offices of the secretaries of various dignitaries.</p>
+
+<p>Chattering gaily, and looking around them in a kind of
+happy awe, the family group moved off and Forrester
+stepped up to the Myrmidon, who said: "Stairway's right
+over there to your&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Forrester said. He reached into his jacket
+pocket, feeling his muscles ache as he did so. He drew
+out his wallet and managed to extract the simple card
+he'd been given in the Temple of Pallas Athena, the
+card which carried nothing but a lightning bolt.</p>
+
+<p>He handed it to the Myrmidon, who looked down at
+it, frowned, and then looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this for?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;" Forrester began, and then caught himself.
+He'd been told not to explain about the card to any
+mortal. And the Myrmidon was certainly just as mortal as
+Forrester himself, or any other hireling of the Gods.
+True, there was always the consideration that he might
+be Zeus All-Father himself, in disguise.</p>
+
+<p>But that was a consideration that bore no weight at
+present. Even if the Myrmidon turned out to be a God
+in disguise, Forrester wouldn't be excused if he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+anything about the card. You had to go by appearances;
+that was the principle on which everything rested, and
+a very good principle too.</p>
+
+<p>Not that there weren't a few unprincipled young men
+around who pretended to be Gods in disguise in order
+to seduce various local and ingenuous maidens. But
+Zeus always found out about them. And ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester recognized that his thoughts were beginning
+to veer once more. Without changing his expression, he
+said evenly: "You're supposed to know," and waited.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about
+three days. At last he nodded, looked down at the card
+intently, raised his head and nodded again. "Okay," he
+said. "Take Car One."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator
+car. As a matter of fact, it was in the middle bank,
+identified only by a small placard. It took him almost
+five minutes to find it, and by the time he stepped toward
+it clocks were ticking urgently in his head.</p>
+
+<p>It would do him absolutely no good to be late.</p>
+
+<p>But another Myrmidon was standing beside the closed
+doors of the elevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath
+with impatience&mdash;none of which showed on his face&mdash;and
+then caught himself. Certainly Zeus All-Father knew
+what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delays
+in his path, it was not for him to complain.</p>
+
+<p>The thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester
+showed his card to the Myrmidon with an abrupt action
+very like impatience. This Myrmidon merely glanced at
+it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wall
+behind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped
+inside, and the doors closed.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which
+began at once to rise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was
+unable to tell. There were no indicators at all on the
+elevator, and the opaque doors made it impossible to see
+floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that
+threw Forrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost
+fell out of the car as the door opened, and clutched
+at something for support.</p>
+
+<p>The something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester
+gaped and looked around. He was in a plain hallway
+of polished marble. There was no way to tell how many
+stories above the street he was.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his
+compatriots downstairs, and wore in addition to the usual
+lightning-bolt patch the two silver ants of a Captain on
+the shoulders of his uniform. He nearly smiled at Forrester&mdash;but
+not quite.</p>
+
+<p>"You're William Forrester?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. He produced the ID card and
+handed it with the special card to the Myrmidon.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," the Myrmidon said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned right.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon stared at him. "No," he said. "I mean
+it's all right. You're all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;" The Myrmidon looked at him, then shrugged
+his shoulders. "You're expected," he said at last in a
+flat voice. "Come with me."</p>
+
+<p>He started down the hallway. Forrester followed him
+around a corner to an ornate bronzed door, covered with
+bas-reliefs depicting the actions of the Gods among
+themselves, and among men. The Myrmidon seemed unimpressed
+by the magnificence of the thing; he pushed
+it open and bowed low to, as far as Forrester could see,
+nobody in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Taking no chances, Forrester copied his bow. He was
+still bent when the Myrmidon announced: "Forrester is
+here, Your Concupiscence," in a reverent tone of voice,
+and backed off a step, narrowly missing Forrester himself
+in the process.</p>
+
+<p>He waved a hand and Forrester went in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The door shut halfway behind him.</p>
+
+<p>The room was perfectly unbelievable. Its rich hangings
+were purple velvet, draping a large window that
+looked out on ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester gulped. It was impossible to be this high.
+New York was spread out below like a toy city.</p>
+
+<p>He jerked his eyes away from the window and back to
+the rest of the room. It was furnished mainly with
+couches: big couches, little couches, puffy ones, spare
+ones, in felt, velvet, fur, and every other material Forrester
+could think of. The rooms were flocked in a pale
+pink, and on the floor was a deep-purple rug of a richer
+pile than Forrester had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>And on one of the couches, the largest and the softest,
+she reclined.</p>
+
+<p>She was clad only in the diaphanous robes of her calling,
+and she was stacked. Beside her, little Maya Wilson
+would have looked about eight years old. Her hair was
+as red as the inside of a blast furnace, and had about
+the same effect on Forrester's pulse rate. Her face was
+a slightly rounded oval, her body a series of mathematically
+indescribable curves.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester did the only thing he could do.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed again, even lower than before.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, William Forrester," said the High Priestess
+of Venus/Aphrodite, the veritable Primate of Venus for
+New York herself, in a voice that managed to be all at
+once regal, pleasant and seductive.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester, already in, could think of nothing to say.
+The gaze of Her Concupiscence fell on the half-open
+door. "You may retire, Captain," she said to the waiting
+Myrmidon. "And allow no one to enter here until I give
+notice."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Your Concupiscence," the Myrmidon said.</p>
+
+<p>The door shut.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester snapped erect from his bow, and then
+realized that he could do nothing but stand there until<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+he had more information. What was the High Priestess
+of Aphrodite doing in the Tower of Zeus All-Father anyway?
+And&mdash;always supposing she had the right to be
+there, as of course she must have had&mdash;what did she want
+with William Forrester?</p>
+
+<p>He heaved a great sigh. This was turning into an
+extremely puzzling day. First there had been the message
+and the card admitting him to the Tower. Then
+there had been (the sigh changed in character) Maya
+Wilson. And then (the sigh changed again, into a faint
+echo of a groan) the fight in the <i>Boat House</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now he was having an audience with the Primate of
+Venus for New York.</p>
+
+<p>Why?</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess's smile gave him no hint. She
+raised herself to a sitting position and patted the couch.
+"Sit over here," she said. "Next to me." Then she changed
+her mind. "No," she added. "First just walk over here,
+stand up and turn around. Slowly."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's brain was whirling like a top, but his face
+was, as usual, expressionless. He did as she had bid him,
+wondering frantically what was going on, and why?</p>
+
+<p>After he had turned completely around and stood
+facing her again, the High Priestess simply sat and
+studied him for almost a full minute, looking him up and
+down with eyes that were totally unreadable. Forrester
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>Finally she nodded her head slowly. "You'll do," she
+said, in a reflective tone, and nodded her head again.
+"Yes, you'll do."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester couldn't restrain his questions any longer.
+"<i>Do?</i>" he burst out. "I mean," he continued, more
+quietly, "what will I do for, Your Concupiscence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for whatever honor it is that our beloved Goddess
+has in mind for you," the High Priestess said offhandedly.
+"I can certainly see that you will do. A little pudgy
+around the middle, but that's a trifle and hardly matters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+The important things are there. You're obviously strong
+and quick."</p>
+
+<p>At that point Forrester caught up with the first
+sentence of her explanation. "The&mdash;the Goddess?" he
+said faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," the High Priestess said. "Else why would
+I give you audience? I am not promiscuous in my dealings
+with the lay world."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure," Forrester said respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess looked at him sardonically. "Of
+course you are," she said. "However, the important thing
+is that our beloved Aphrodite has selected you, William
+Forrester, for some high honor."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester caught her word for the Goddess, and remembered,
+thanking his lucky stars he hadn't had a
+chance to slip, that here in the Tower it was protocol
+to refer to the Gods and Goddesses by their Greek names
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose," he said tentatively, "that you have
+any idea just what this&mdash;high honor is?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, William Forrester," the High Priestess began, in
+some rage, "dare to question&mdash;" Her tone changed. "Oh,
+well, I suppose I shouldn't become angry with ... No."
+She shrugged, but her tone carried a little pique.
+"Frankly, I don't know what the honor is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," Forrester said, his bearing perfectly
+calm, even though he could feel his stomach sinking to
+ground level, "how do you know it's an honor?" The
+thought that had crossed his mind was almost too horrible
+to retain, but he had to say it. "Perhaps," he went
+on, "I've offended the Gods in some unusual way&mdash;some
+way very offensive to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you have."</p>
+
+<p>"And perhaps," Forrester said, "they've decided on
+some exquisite method of punishing me. Something like
+the punishment they gave Tantalus when he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know the ways of the Gods quite well, thank you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+the High Priestess said coolly. "And I can tell you that
+your fears have no justification."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please," the High Priestess said, raising a hand. "If
+the Gods were to punish you, they would simply have
+sent out a squad of Myrmidons to pick you up, and that
+would have been the end of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not," Forrester said, in a voice that didn't
+sound at all like his own to him. It sounded much too
+unconcerned. "Perhaps I have offended only the Goddess
+herself." The idea sounded more plausible the more
+he thought about it. "Certainly the All-Father would
+back up his favorite Daughter in punishing a mortal."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And
+still the Myrmidons would have&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional
+arguments and quarrels between the Gods."</p>
+
+<p>"I am," the High Priestess said, not without irony.
+"And it does not appear seemly that an ordinary mortal
+should mention&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I teach History," Forrester said. "I know of such
+quarrels. Especially between Athena and Aphrodite."</p>
+
+<p>"And?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may
+be that Aphrodite wished to keep my arrest secret."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it," the High Priestess said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester wished he could believe her. But his own
+theory looked uncomfortably plausible. "It certainly looks
+as if I'm right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly,
+the freckles that went with her red hair standing out
+clearly on her face and giving her the disturbing appearance
+of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old, however,
+Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the
+High Priestess.</p>
+
+<p>Then she regained her color and laughed, all in an
+instant. "For a minute," she said in a light tone, "you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+almost convinced me of your forebodings. But there's
+nothing in them. There couldn't be."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester opened his mouth, and <i>Why not?</i> was on his
+lips. But he never got a chance to say the words. The
+High Priestess blinked and peered more closely at his
+face, and before he had a chance to speak she asked him:
+"What happened to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A small accident," Forrester said quickly. It was a lie,
+but he thought a pardonable one. The truth was just too
+complicated to spin out; he had no real intent to deceive.</p>
+
+<p>But the High Priestess shook her head. "No," she said.
+"Not an accident. A fight. Your hands are skinned and
+bruised."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," Forrester said. "It was a fight. But I was
+attacked, and entitled to defend myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure," the High Priestess said. "Yet I have a
+question for you. Who won?"</p>
+
+<p>"Won? I did. Naturally."</p>
+
+<p>It sounded boastful, he reflected, but it wasn't. He
+had won, and it had been natural to him to do so. His
+build and strength, as well as his speed, had made any
+other outcome unlikely.</p>
+
+<p>And the High Priestess didn't seem to take offense. She
+said only: "I thought so. Just a moment." Then she
+walked over to a telephone. It was a simple act but Forrester
+watched it fervently. First she stood up, and then
+she took a step, and then another step ... and her whole
+body moved. And moved.</p>
+
+<p>It was marvelous. He watched her bend down to pick
+up the phone without any clear idea of the meaning of
+the motions. The motions themselves were enough. Every
+curve and jiggle and bounce was engraved forever on
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess dialed a number, waited and said:
+"Aphrodite's compliments to Hermes the Healer."</p>
+
+<p>An indistinguishable voice answered her from the receiver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Aphrodite thanks you," the High Priestess said, "and
+asks if Hermes might send one of his priests around for
+a few minor ministrations."</p>
+
+<p>The receiver said something else.</p>
+
+<p>"No," the High Priestess said. "Nothing like that. Don't
+you think we have other interests&mdash;such as they are?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the receiver.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a black eye and some skin lacerations," the High
+Priestess said. "Nothing serious."</p>
+
+<p>And the receiver replied once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite wishes
+you well." She hung up.</p>
+
+<p>She came back to the couch, Forrester's eyes following
+her every inch of the way. She sat down, looked up and
+said: "What's the matter? Do I bore you?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bore</i> me?" Forrester all but cried.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just&mdash;well, nothing, I suppose," the High Priestess
+said. "Your expression."</p>
+
+<p>"Training," Forrester explained. "An acolyte does well
+not to express his emotions too clearly."</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess nodded casually and patted the
+couch at her side. "Sit down here, next to me."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester did so, gingerly.</p>
+
+<p>A moment of silence ensued.</p>
+
+<p>Then Forrester, gathering courage, said: "Thank you
+for getting a Healer. But I'd like to ask you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know I'm not under some sort of carefully
+concealed arrest? After all, you said before that you
+were sure&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And I am sure," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite
+herself has ordered a sacrifice in her favor. A sacrifice
+from you. And Aphrodite does not accept&mdash;much less
+<i>order</i>&mdash;a sacrifice from those standing in her disfavor."</p>
+
+<p>"You're&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. "Good." The world was not quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+as black as it could have been. And still, it was not
+exactly shining white. A sacrifice? And outside the door,
+Forrester could hear a disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>What did that mean?</p>
+
+<p>Her Concupiscence didn't seem to hear it at first. "We
+will perform the rite together and&mdash;" The noise grew
+louder. "What's that?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>It was the sound of argument. Forrester realized what
+had happened. "It's the priest from Hermes," he said.
+"The Healer. You forgot to tell the Captain of Myrmidons
+to let him in."</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" the High Priestess said. "So I did! It
+slipped my mind entirely." She touched Forrester's cheek
+affectionately. "Of course, I imagine it's only natural to
+be a bit forgetful when&mdash;" She got up and went to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The Captain and a small, fat priest in a golden-edged
+tunic were tangled confusedly outside. The High
+Priestess looked away from them in disdain and said
+regally: "You may permit the Healer to enter, Captain."
+The tangle came untied and the little priest scooted in.
+To him, as the door closed again, the High Priestess
+whispered: "Sorry. I didn't expect you quite so soon."</p>
+
+<p>"No more did I!" The priest waved his caduceus
+furiously, so that it seemed as if the twin snakes twined
+round it were moving, the two wings above them beating,
+and the ball surmounting all, on top of the staff,
+traced uneasy designs in the air. "Myrmidons!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly regret&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you boiled down their brains for the fat content,
+one alone would supply the Temple with candles for a
+year! Just beef and nothing more! Beef! Beef!"</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a start, he seemed to see the High Priestess
+for the first time, and his tone changed. "Oh," he said.
+"Good evening, Your Concupiscence."</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening," the High Priestess said in an indulgent
+tone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, well," the priest said. "What seems to be
+the trouble? My goodness. It must be important, sure
+enough&mdash;certainly important." His little round red eager
+face seemed to shine as he went on. "Hermes himself
+transported me here just as soon as you called!"</p>
+
+<p>"Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Just as soon as ever.
+Yes. Hm. And you can believe me when I tell you&mdash;believe
+me, Your Concupiscence&mdash;take my word when I
+tell you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hermes," the priest said. "Hermes doesn't often take
+such an interest&mdash;I may say such a <i>personal</i> interest&mdash;in
+a mortal, I'll tell you. And you can believe me when
+I do tell you that. I do."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," the priest said, waving his caduceus gently. He
+blinked. "Where's the patient? The mortal?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's over here," the High Priestess said, motioning
+to Forrester sitting awestruck on the couch. Priests of
+Hermes were common enough sights&mdash;but a priest like
+this was something new and strange in his experience.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," the priest said, twinkling at him. "So there you
+are, eh? Over there? You <i>are</i> sitting over <i>there</i>, aren't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Forrester said blankly.</p>
+
+<p>"Now listen to me carefully," the High Priestess said.
+"You're not to ask his name, or mention anything about
+this visit to anyone&mdash;understand?"</p>
+
+<p>The priest blinked. "Oh, certainly. Absolutely. Without
+doubt. I've already been told that, you might say.
+Already. Certainly. Wouldn't think of such a thing." He
+moved over and stood near Forrester, peering down at
+him. "My goodness," he said. "Let me see that eye, young
+man."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned his head wordlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Black indeed. Very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+black. A fight. My, yes. An altercation, disagreement,
+discussion, battle&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Forrester cut in.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly you have," the priest said. "And what'd the
+other fellow look like, eh? Beaten, I'll bet. You look a
+strong type."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester relaxed. It was the only thing to do while
+the priest babbled on, touching his wounds gently as he
+did so with various parts of his caduceus. The pain
+vanished with a touch of the left wingtip, and the lacerations
+healed instantly as they were caressed with first
+one and then another of the various coils of the snakes.</p>
+
+<p>But Forrester now was free to worry. Arrest was out
+of the question. As the High Priestess had said, on the
+evidence it was clear that Aphrodite intended to honor
+him in some way. And there was nothing at all, he
+thought, wrong with an honor from the Goddess of
+Love.</p>
+
+<p>But another sacrifice? After the sacrifice to Aphrodite
+he'd made earlier, and the fight he'd gotten into, he
+just didn't quite feel up to it. It wouldn't do to refuse,
+but ...</p>
+
+<p>"Well," the priest said, stepping back. "Well, well.
+You ought to be all right now, young fellow&mdash;right as
+rain."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester said: "Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Might feel a little soreness&mdash;tenderness, you might
+say&mdash;for a day or so. Only a day or so, tenderness," the
+priest said. "After that, right as rain. Right as you'll
+ever be. <i>All</i> right, as a matter of fact: all right."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester said: "Thanks."</p>
+
+<p>The priest went to the door, turned, and said to the
+High Priestess: "Hermes' blessing on you both, as a
+matter of fact, as they say. Blessings from Hermes on
+you both."</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess nodded regally.</p>
+
+<p>"And," the priest said, "merely by the way, as it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+might be, without meaning harm, if you would ask a
+blessing for me&mdash;Aphrodite's blessing? Easy for you.
+Of course, it would be nice curing&mdash;curing, as they say&mdash;stupidity,
+plain dumbness, as they call such things&mdash;curing
+stupidity as easily as I can cure small ills. Nice."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," the High Priestess said.</p>
+
+<p>"But there," the priest went on. "Only the Gods can
+cure that. Only the Gods and no one else. Yes. Hm.
+And not often. They don't do anything like that in the&mdash;ah&mdash;regular
+course of things. As a matter of fact, you
+might say, I've never heard of&mdash;never heard of such a
+case. Never. Not one. Yet ..." He opened the door,
+spat: "Myrmidons!" and disappeared into the hallway.</p>
+
+<p>The door banged shut.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed heavily. The High Priestess turned
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Feel better?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Much," Forrester said, dreading the ordeal to come.</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess came over to the couch and sat
+down next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder.
+"Shall we prepare for the&mdash;sacrifice?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed again. "Sure," he said. "Naturally."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When she was locked in his arms, it was as if time
+had started all over again. Forrester responded to the
+eagerness of the woman as he'd never dreamed he could
+respond; all his tiredness dropped away as if it had
+never been, and he was a new man. He touched her
+bare flesh and felt the heat of her through his fingers
+and hands; with his arms around her nakedness he
+rolled, locked to her, feeling the friction of skin against
+skin and the magnificence of her.</p>
+
+<p>The sacrifice went on ... and on ... and on into
+endless time and endless space. Forrester thrust and
+gasped at the woman and her head went back, her
+mouth pulled open as she shivered and responded to
+him....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forever....</p>
+
+<p>Until finally they lay, panting, in the magnificent
+room. Forrester rose first, vaguely surprised at himself.
+He found a towel in a closet at the far end of the room
+and wiped his damp forehead slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said. "That was quite a sacrifice. What
+next?"</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess raised herself on one elbow and
+stared across the room at him. "There is no need for
+such familiarity, Forrester," she said. "Not from a lay
+acolyte."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester tossed the towel onto a couch. "My apologies,
+Your Concupiscence. I'm a little&mdash;light-headed.
+But what happens next?"</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess reached into the diaphanous pile
+of her clothing and came up with a small diamond-encrusted
+watch she wore, usually, on her wrist. "Our
+timing was almost perfect," she said. "It is now twenty-hundred
+hours. The Goddess expects you at twenty-oh-one
+exactly."</p>
+
+<p>A hurried half-minute passed. Then, fully dressed,
+Forrester went with the High Priestess to a golden
+door half-hidden in the hangings at the side of the
+room. She made a series of mystical signs: the circle,
+the serpent and others Forrester couldn't quite follow.</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door, genuflecting as she did so, and
+Forrester dropped to one knee behind her, looking at
+the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>It was filled with a pale blue haze that looked like
+the clear summer sky on a hot day. Except that it wasn't
+sky, but a curtain that wavered and shimmered before
+his eyes. Beyond it, he could see nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The High Priestess rose from her genuflection and
+Forrester followed suit. There was a sole second of
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then the High Priestess said: "You are to step through
+the Veil of Heaven, William Forrester."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester said: "<i>Me?</i> Through the <i>Veil of Heaven</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be afraid," she said. "And don't try to touch
+the Veil. Just walk through as if nothing at all were
+there."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester filled his lungs as though he were going
+to take a very high dive. He thought: <i>Here goes nothing</i>.
+That was all; there wasn't time for anything else.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped into the blue haze, and had a sudden
+sensation of falling.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">There was a tingle like a mild electric shock. Forrester
+opened his mouth and then closed it again
+as the tingle stopped, and the sense of falling simply
+died away. He had closed his eyes on the way into
+the curtain, and now he opened them again.</p>
+
+<p>He closed them very quickly, counted to ten, and
+took a deep breath. Then he opened them to look at
+the room he was in.</p>
+
+<p>It was unlike any room he had ever seen before. It
+didn't have the opulence of the High Priestess's rooms.
+I am a room, it seemed to say, and a room is what I
+was meant to be. I don't have to draw attention to
+myself like my poorer sisters. I am content merely to
+exist as the room of rooms, the very type and image
+of the Ideal Enclosure.</p>
+
+<p>The floors and walk of the place seemed to blend
+into each other at odd angles. Forrester's eyes couldn't
+quite follow them or understand them, and judging
+the size of the room was out of the question. There was
+a golden wash of light filling the room, though it
+didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. It
+was, in fact, as if the room itself were shining. Forrester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light, or whatever
+it was, was changing color.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually, he realized that it went on doing that.
+He wasn't sure that he liked it, but it was certainly
+different. The colors went from gold to pale rose to
+violet to blue, and so on, back to gold again, while
+little eddies and swirls of light sparkled into rainbows
+here and there.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester began to feel dizzy again.</p>
+
+<p>There were various objects standing around here and
+there in the room, but Forrester couldn't quite tell what
+they were. Even their sizes were difficult to judge,
+because of the shifting light and shape of the room
+itself. There was only one thing that seemed reasonably
+certain.</p>
+
+<p>He was alone in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Set in one wall was a square of light that didn't
+change color quite as much as everything else. Forrester
+judged it to be a window and headed for it. With his
+first step, he discovered something else about the place.</p>
+
+<p>The carpeting was completely unique. Instead of
+fiber, the floor seemed to have been covered a foot
+deep with foam rubber. Forrester didn't exactly walk
+to the window; he bounced there. The sensation was
+almost enjoyable, he thought, when you got used to it.
+He wondered just how long it took to get used to it
+and settled on eighty years as a good first guess.</p>
+
+<p>He stood in front of the window. He looked out.</p>
+
+<p>He saw nothing but clouds and sky.</p>
+
+<p>It took a long while for him to decide what to do
+next, and when he finally did come to a decision, it
+was the wrong one.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down.</p>
+
+<p>Below him there were tumbled rocks, ledges of ice
+and snow, clouds and&mdash;far, far below&mdash;the flat land of
+the Earth. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn't.
+The whole vast stomach-churning panorama spread out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+beneath him endlessly. The people below, if there were
+any, weren't even big enough to be ants. They were
+completely invisible. Forrester took a deep breath and
+gripped the side ledges of the window.</p>
+
+<p>And a voice behind him said: "Welcome, Mortal."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester almost went through the window. But he
+managed to regain his balance and turn around, saying
+angrily: "Don't <i>do</i> that!" As the last of the words left
+his lips, he became aware of the smiling figure facing
+him.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing in a spotlight, Forrester thought
+at first. Then he saw that the light was coming from
+the woman herself&mdash;or from her clothing. The dress she
+wore was a satinlike sheath that glowed with an aura
+even brighter than the room. Her blonde hair picked
+up the radiance and glowed, too, illuminating a face
+that was at once regal, inviting and passionate. It was,
+Forrester thought, a hell of a disturbing combination.</p>
+
+<p>The cloth of the dress clung to her figure as if it
+wanted to. Forrester didn't blame it a bit; the dress
+showed off a figure that was not only beyond his wildest
+dreams, but a long way beyond what he had hitherto
+regarded as the bounds of possibility. From shoulder
+to toe, she was perfection.</p>
+
+<p>This was also true of the woman from shoulder to
+crown.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester gulped and, automatically, went on one
+knee.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," he murmured. "Pardon me. I didn't
+mean&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite all right," the Goddess murmured. "I understand
+perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"But I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind all that now," Venus said, with just a
+hint of impatience. "Rise, William Forrester&mdash;or you
+who were William Forrester."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester rose. Sweat was pouring down his face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+He made no effort to wipe it away. "Were?" he asked,
+dazed. "But that's my name!"</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>was</i>," Venus said, in the same calm tone. "Henceforth,
+your name is Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took a while to remember to swallow. "Dionysus?"
+he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>There was another silence.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester, feeling that perhaps his first question could
+use some amplification, said: "Dionysus? Bacchus? You
+mean me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right," Venus said. "That will be your name,
+and you'd better begin getting used to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Now wait a minute!" he said. "I don't mean to be
+disrespectful, but something occurs to me. I mean, it's
+the first thing I thought of, and I'm probably wrong,
+but just let me ask the questions, if you don't mind,
+and maybe some of this will make some sense. Because
+just a few hours ago I was doing very nicely on my
+own and I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What are your questions?" Venus said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester swayed. "Dionysus/Bacchus himself," he
+said. "Won't he mind my&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Venus laughed. "Mind your using his name? My
+goodness, no."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all because of the orgies," Venus said.</p>
+
+<p>Everything, he told himself, was getting just a little
+too much for him. "Orgies?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Venus nodded. "You see, there are all those orgies held
+in his honor. You know about those, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I do," Forrester said, watching everything narrowly.
+In just a few seconds, he told himself hopefully,
+the whole room would vanish and he would be in a nice,
+peaceful insane asylum.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it isn't impossible for a God to be at all the
+orgies held in his honor," Venus said. "Naturally not. But,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+at the same time, they are all rather boring&mdash;for a God, I
+mean. And that's why you're here," she finished.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester said: "Oh." And then he said: "Oh?" The
+room hadn't disappeared yet, but he was willing to give
+it time.</p>
+
+<p>"Dionysus," Venus said patiently, as if she were explaining
+the matter to a small and rather ugly child, "gets
+tired of appearing at the orgies. He wants someone to
+take his place."</p>
+
+<p>The silence after that sentence was a very long one.
+Forrester could think of nothing to say but: "<i>Me?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"You will be raised to the status of Godling," Venus
+said. "You remember Hercules and Achilles, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never met them," Forrester said vacantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," Venus said. "They were, however, ancient
+heroes, raised to the status of Godling, just as you yourself
+will be. However, you will not be honored or worshipped
+under your own name."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. "Naturally," he said, wondering what
+he was talking about. There was, he realized, the possibility
+that he was not insane after all, but he didn't
+want to think about that. It was much too painful.</p>
+
+<p>"You will receive instructions in the use of certain
+powers," Venus said. "These will enable you to perform
+your new duties."</p>
+
+<p>Duties.</p>
+
+<p>The word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus
+was the God of wine, among other things, and
+women and song had been thrown in as an afterthought.
+The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded just
+a little bit overwhelming.</p>
+
+<p>"These&mdash;duties," he said. "Will they be temporary or
+permanent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Venus said, "that depends." She smiled at him
+sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"Depends?"</p>
+
+<p>"So far," Venus said, "our testing shows that you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+capable of handling certain of the duties to be entrusted
+to you. But, for the rest, everything depends on your own
+talents and devotion."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," Forrester said, and then: "Testing?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an
+important job like this without making certain that he
+was capable of doing the job, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Frankly," Forrester said, "I haven't got around to
+supposing anything yet."</p>
+
+<p>Venus smiled again. "We have tested you," she said,
+"and so far you appear perfectly capable of exercising your
+powers."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester blinked. "Exercising?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do
+exceptionally well."</p>
+
+<p>"As a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How does your face feel?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"My what?" Forrester said. "Oh. Face. Fine. Street
+brawls, you said?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did," Venus said. "My goodness, the way you bashed
+that one bruiser with your drink&mdash;that was really excellent.
+As a matter of fact, I feel it incumbent on me to
+tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much in years."</p>
+
+<p>Wondering whether he should be complimented or just
+a little ashamed of himself, Forrester said nothing at all.
+The idea that he had been under the personal supervision
+of Aphrodite herself bothered him more than he could
+say. The brawl was the first thing that came to mind. It
+didn't seem like the sort of thing a Goddess of Love
+ought to have been watching.</p>
+
+<p>And then he thought of the High Priestess.</p>
+
+<p>He felt a blush creeping up around his collar, and was
+thankful only that it was not visible under the tan of his
+skin. He remembered who had ordered the sacrificial
+rites, and thought bitterly and guiltily about spectator
+sports.</p>
+
+<p>But his face remained perfectly calm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So far," Venus said, "I must say that you have come
+through with flying colors. You should be proud of
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester didn't feel exactly proud. He wanted to crawl
+into a hole and die there.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But there is more," Aphrodite said.</p>
+
+<p>"More?"</p>
+
+<p>The idea didn't sound attractive. In spite of what one
+of the tests had involved, the notion of any more tests was
+just a little fatiguing. Besides, Forrester was not at all
+sure that he would be at his best, when he knew that
+dispassionate observers were chronicling his technique
+and his every movement.</p>
+
+<p>How much more, he wondered, could he take?</p>
+
+<p>And, he reflected, how much more of <i>what</i>?</p>
+
+<p>"We must be certain," Aphrodite said, "that you can
+prove yourself worthy of the dignity of a Godling."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," Forrester said cleverly. "So there are going to be
+more tests?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are," Venus said. "After all, you will be expected
+to act as the <i>alter persona</i> of Dionysus. That involves
+responsibilities almost beyond the ken of a mortal."</p>
+
+<p>Wine, Forrester thought wildly, women and song.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered if he were going to be asked to sing
+something. He couldn't remember anything except the
+<i>Star Spangled Banner</i> and an exceptionally silly rhyme
+from his childhood. Neither of them seemed just right for
+the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"You must learn to behave as a true God," Venus said.
+"And we must know whether you are fitted for the part."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. The one thing keeping him sane, he
+reflected, was the hope of insanity. But the room was still
+there, and Venus was standing near him, talking quietly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus," she said, "there must be further tests, so that
+we may be sure of your capacities."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Capacities? Just what was <i>that</i> supposed to mean? "I
+see," he lied. "And suppose I fail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I don't live up to expectations," Forrester
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," Venus declared, "I'm afraid the Gods
+might be angry with you."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester had no doubt whatever as to the meaning of
+the words. Either he lived up to expectations or he didn't
+live at all. The Gods' anger was not a small affair, and it
+seldom satisfied itself with small results. When a God
+got angry with you, you simply hoped the result would
+be quick. You didn't really dare hope it would also be
+temporary.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had
+been doing his own picking, he thought a little sadly, the
+job of tryout stand-in for Dionysus was not the job he
+would have chosen. But then, the choice wasn't his, and
+it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn't be laid
+at the door of the Gods. It would be laid at the door of
+William Forrester, together with a nice, big, black funeral
+wreath.</p>
+
+<p>But it didn't sound too bad at that, he told himself
+hopefully. After all, it wasn't every day that a man was
+offered the job of stand-in for a God, not every day that
+a man was offered the chance of passing a lot of strenuous
+and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.</p>
+
+<p>He told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but
+all he could think of was the succession of tests still to
+come. What would they be like? How could he ever pass
+them all? What would be thought necessary to establish
+a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?</p>
+
+<p>Looks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and
+he certainly had those. For a second he almost wished he
+could see Ed Symes and apologize for getting mad when
+Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But then, he reflected, he didn't want to go too far.
+The idea of apologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his
+sister was, made Forrester's gorge rise about five and a
+half feet.</p>
+
+<p>"However," Aphrodite went on, as if she had just
+thought of something too unimportant to bother mentioning,
+"don't worry about it. My father's thunderbolt
+needn't concern you. I have every confidence that you
+will prove yourself."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled radiantly at him.</p>
+
+<p>The idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn't
+think that a mortal's mortality was important. But the
+idea didn't stay long. Being reassured by a Goddess, he
+told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.</p>
+
+<p>Venus was looking him up and down speculatively,
+and Forrester suddenly thought a new test was coming.
+A little gentle sweat began to break out on his forehead
+again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breath
+and tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The
+High Priestess had been something special but, Forrester
+thought, she had not really called out his <i>all</i>. Venus was
+clearly another matter.</p>
+
+<p>But Venus said only: "Those clothes," in a considering
+sort of tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Clothes?" Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly can't go in those clothes. Hera would
+object quite violently, I'm afraid. She's awfully stuffy
+about such things."</p>
+
+<p>The intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester.
+"Stuffy? Hera?"</p>
+
+<p>"Confidentially," Venus said, "at times, the All-Mother
+can be an absolute bitch."</p>
+
+<p>She went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a
+part of the light seemed to fade as she did so. Of course,
+she did nothing so crude as opening a door. When she
+started for the wall there was no closet apparent there,
+but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was just that simple.</p>
+
+<p>She took out a white robe and started back. Forrester
+took his eyes from her with an effort and watched the
+closet disappear again. By the time she had reached him,
+it was only a part of the swirling wall again.</p>
+
+<p>And the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.</p>
+
+<p>She handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but
+it seemed real enough. At any rate, it was as real as
+anything else that was happening to him, he thought.</p>
+
+<p>It was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient
+Greek <i>chiton</i>, and open at one side instead of the front.
+Forrester turned it in his hands. At the waist and shoulder
+there was a golden clasp to hold it in place. The clasp
+wasn't figured in any special way. The material itself was
+odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it
+was perfectly opaque, it was thinner than any paper
+Forrester had ever seen in public. It almost didn't seem
+to be there when he rubbed it between his thumb and
+forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't just stand there," Venus said. "Get started."</p>
+
+<p>"Started?" Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Get dressed. The others are waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Others?"</p>
+
+<p>But she didn't answer. Forrester looked frantically
+around the room for anything that looked even remotely
+like a dressing room. As a last resort, he was willing to
+settle for a screen. No room, no screen. He was willing
+to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There was
+none.</p>
+
+<p>He looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he
+thought, she would leave while he dressed. She showed
+no sign of doing so. He cleared his throat and jerked at
+his collar nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, now," Venus said sternly. "Don't tell me the
+presence of your Goddess embarrasses you." She raised
+her head imperiously. "Hurry it up."</p>
+
+<p>Very slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+after all, nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a
+matter of fact, Venus ought to be getting used to the sight
+of him undressing by this time.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, he finally managed to get the <i>chiton</i> on
+straight. Venus looked him over and nodded her approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along now," she said. "They're waiting for us.
+And one thing: don't get nervous, for Hera's sake. You're
+all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure. Perfectly all right. Right
+as rain."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you'll make
+a fine Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>She led him toward a wall opposite where the closet
+had been. As they approached it, a section of it became
+bluer and bluer. With a sinking feeling, Forrester told
+himself that he knew what was coming.</p>
+
+<p>He did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue
+haze of a Veil of Heaven, just like the one that had
+transported him from New York to his present position.
+Where that was, he wasn't entirely sure, but remembering
+his one look out the window, he suspected it was Mount
+Olympus.</p>
+
+<p>But there wasn't any time for thinking. Venus took his
+hand coolly as they reached the blue haze. Then both of
+them stepped through.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">The room into which they stepped seemed even larger
+than the one they had left. The distances were just
+as hard to measure, and why Forrester had the feeling,
+he couldn't have said, but it did feel larger. The sense of
+enormous space hung over it.</p>
+
+<p>The wall colors were just the same, however, dripping
+and changing in a continuous flow of patterns, with the
+little sunbursts and rainbows appearing here and there
+without any visible reason.</p>
+
+<p>But the room itself was comparatively unimportant,
+Forrester knew. It was what went on in the room that
+sent shivers up his spine, and instructed one knee to start
+knocking against other one. He had heard of the Court
+of the Gods, though as far as he knew no mortal had ever
+seen it. There were certainly no photographs of it, even
+in the most exhaustive travel books.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester knew without question that he was standing
+in that Courtroom. The knowledge did not make him
+calm. And the beings sitting and reclining on couches
+along the shimmering walls made him feel even worse.
+He recognized every one of them, and every one sent a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+new shock of awe running through his nerves. His
+stomach felt like a hard rubber handball.</p>
+
+<p>There was Zeus All-Father, with his great, silvery,
+ringleted beard. His hands were combing through it and
+he was frowning majestically into the distance. Next to
+him was the imperious Hera, Mother of the Gods. She sat
+with her hands folded in her lap, as if she were waiting
+for the end of the world to be announced. There was
+Mars, tough and hairy-chested, scratching his side with
+one hand and scowling horribly. His fierce, bearded face
+looked somehow out of place without the battle helmet
+that usually topped it. The horned and goat-legged Pan
+was there, and Vulcan, crippled and ugly with his squat
+body and giant arms, reclining like an ape on a couch all
+alone, and motherly looking Ceres using one hand to pat
+her hair as if she, not Forrester, were the nervous one.</p>
+
+<p>Athena was there, too, lovely and gray-eyed. She
+seemed to be smiling at him with special favor, and
+Forrester felt grateful.</p>
+
+<p>He needed all the help he could get.</p>
+
+<p>But the other Gods were absent. Where were they?
+Pluto and Phoebus Apollo were missing, and so were
+Mercury, Neptune, Dionysus and Diana.</p>
+
+<p>And ...</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," the great voice of Zeus boomed, as Forrester and
+Venus stepped through the Veil. Forrester heard the
+voice and shuddered. "The mortal is here," Zeus went on
+in his awe-inspiring roar. "Welcome, Mortal!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester opened his mouth, but Hera got in ahead
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned over to her divine husband and hissed, in a
+tone audible to everyone in the room: "Don't belabor the
+obvious, dear. Enough's enough."</p>
+
+<p>"It is?" Zeus said. The roar was exactly the same. "I'm
+not at all sure. No! Of course not. Naturally not, my
+dear. Naturally not." He looked around slowly, nodding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+his great head. "Now, now. Let's see. Do we have a
+quorum? I don't see Morpheus. Where's Morpheus?"</p>
+
+<p>"Asleep, as usual," Mars growled. He finished scratching
+his side and began on his beard. "Where else would
+the old fool be? He's nothing but a bore anyway and I
+say to Hades with him. Let's get on."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Ares," Pallas Athena said mildly. "Don't be
+crude."</p>
+
+<p>"Crude?" Mars bellowed. "All I said was that the old
+bore's not here. It's true, isn't it? What in Hades is so
+crude about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hah!" Vulcan growled, in a bass voice that seemed
+to come from the bottom of a large barrel. "Look who
+mentions being a bore."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you&mdash;" Mars started.</p>
+
+<p>"Children!" Hera snapped at once.</p>
+
+<p>There was quiet, and Forrester had time to get dizzy.
+Maybe, he thought, he had been traveling too much.
+After all, he had started in New York, and then he had
+found himself on what he suspected was Mount Olympus,
+in Greece. And now he was somewhere else.</p>
+
+<p>He wasn't entirely sure where. The Court of the Gods
+existed; he knew that. But he had never heard just where
+it existed, and it was entirely possible that no mortal
+knew. In which case, Forrester thought confusedly, I
+don't even know where I am.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time, he began to think seriously that,
+perhaps, he was sane after all. Maybe everything he was
+seeing and hearing was true. It was certainly beginning
+to look that way. And, in that case, maybe the dizziness
+he felt was just airsickness, or spacesickness, or whatever
+kind of sickness came from traveling through those blue
+Veils.</p>
+
+<p>At least, he told himself, thinking of the old man he
+had met on the way downtown, at least it beat the
+subway.</p>
+
+<p>He looked behind him. He and Venus were standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+in the center of the room. There was no blue veil behind
+them. It had, apparently, done its duty and gone away.</p>
+
+<p>The subway, Forrester told himself solemnly, didn't
+do that.</p>
+
+<p>Zeus cleared his throat ponderously. "I count eight of
+us," he said. "Eight, all told. Of course, that's eight
+without the mortal." He paused, and then added: "If
+you count the mortal in, there are nine."</p>
+
+<p>Pan stirred. "That's a quorum," he announced in a
+hoarse voice that had a heavy vibrato in it. It reminded
+Forrester, oddly, of the bleating of a goat. Pan crossed
+his legs and his hooves clashed, striking sparks. "Pluto
+and Poseidon said they'd accept our judgment."</p>
+
+<p>"Why the absence?" Vulcan said shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"A storm, I think," Pan said. "Out in the North Atlantic,
+if memory serves&mdash;and it does. As far as I recall, there are
+four ships sunk so far. Quite an affair."</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan said: "Ah," and reclined again.</p>
+
+<p>Hera leaned forward. "Where's Apollo? He said he
+might come."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure he did," Mars said heavily. "Old Sunshine Boy
+never misses a bit of excitement. Only he probably found
+something even more exciting. He's in California, all
+dressed up as a mortal."</p>
+
+<p>"California?" Ceres said. "My goodness, what would
+that boy be doing in California?"</p>
+
+<p>Mars guffawed. "Probably showing off&mdash;how Sunshine
+Boy loves to show off! Displaying that gorgeous body to
+the girls on Muscle Beach, I'll bet."</p>
+
+<p>"Eight to five," Pan said at once.</p>
+
+<p>Mars turned to him and nodded shortly. "Done."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if I were a betting man," Vulcan began in a
+thoughtful bass, "I'd&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We all know what you'd do, Gimpy," Mars roared.
+"But you won't do it, so shut up about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Please," Hera said. "Order." Her voice was like chilled
+steel. The others settled back. "I think we're ready. Shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+we begin, dear?" She looked at Zeus, who got ready to
+start. But before he could get a word out, there was a
+flicker of blue energy in the room, a couple of yards
+away from Forrester and Venus. The flicker expanded to
+a Veil, and a man stepped out of it.</p>
+
+<p>He was a short, fat individual wearing a <i>chiton</i> as if
+he had slept in it for three or four weeks. His face was
+puffy and his golden hair was ruffled. His eyelids seemed
+to have acquired a permanent half-mast, and beneath
+them the eyes were bleary and disinterested.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester needed no introductions to Morpheus, the
+God of Sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The God looked around at the assembled company with
+a kindly little smile on his tired face. Then, slowly and
+luxuriously, he yawned. When his mouth closed again,
+after a view of caverns measureless to man, he rubbed at
+his eyes with his knuckles, and then heaved a great sigh
+and, apparently, resigned himself to the terrible effort
+of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm late," he said. "But it's really not my fault."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh?" Hera said in a nasty tone of voice.</p>
+
+<p>Morpheus shook his head slowly from side to side. "It
+really isn't." His voice was terribly calm. It was obvious,
+Forrester thought, that he did not give a damn. "The
+alarm just didn't seem to go off again. Or else I didn't
+hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Morpheus," Hera said. "I should think you'd get
+some kind of alarm that really worked, after all this
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"Why bother?" Morpheus said, and shrugged ponderously.
+"Anyhow, I'm here." He yawned again. "The
+thing's tiresome, but I did say I'd be here, and here I am.
+Now, does that satisfy everybody? Because if it doesn't,
+I do have some sleep to catch up on."</p>
+
+<p>"It satisfies us all," Hera said with some asperity. "Go
+sit down."</p>
+
+<p>Morpheus shambled quietly over to a couch near Mars.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+He lowered himself onto it, and slowly slipped from a
+sitting position to a reclining one.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Hera said to Zeus, "we're ready, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Zeus said. "Oh. Certainly. I declare this meeting&mdash;I
+declare this meeting fully met." He cleared his throat
+with a rumble that shook the air. "We're here, as I suppose
+you all know, to consider the problem of William Forrester.
+But first, I am reminded of a little story I picked
+up on Earth, and in the hopes that some of you here
+might not have heard it, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We've heard it," Hera said, "and, anyhow, this is
+neither the time nor the place."</p>
+
+<p>Zeus turned to look at her. He shrugged. "Very well,"
+he said equably. "Let us return to William Forrester, as
+a possible substitute for Dionysus. The first consideration
+ought to be the psychological records, wouldn't you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would," Hera said through her teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe Athena is in charge of that department, and
+if she is ready to report&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she's ready," Hera said, "dear."</p>
+
+<p>Zeus nodded. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"</p>
+
+<p>Athena got up and faced the company. "In general,"
+she began at once, "I think we can pass the candidate
+completely on the psychological records. The Index of
+Subordination is low, but we don't want one too high
+for this post. Too, the Beta curve shows a good deal of
+variation, a Dionysian characteristic. There is, perhaps, a
+stronger sense of responsibility than is recorded in the
+Dionysian index, but this may not be a handicap."</p>
+
+<p>"By no means," Hera said. "Responsibility is something
+we could all do with more of, around here." She shot a
+poisonous glance at Morpheus, whose eyes were now
+completely closed.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester, busily wondering what his Beta curve was,
+and why it varied, and what he would do if he lost it
+and had to get another one, missed the next few words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+of Athena's report. The word that did impinge on his
+consciousness did so with a shock.</p>
+
+<p>"Sex," Athena said. "But, after all, that is not quite in
+my department." She looked as if she were very glad of
+the fact. "In general, as I say, the psychological tests
+present no insuperable barriers."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," Hera said. She dug Zeus in the ribs again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Zeus said. "Yes. Fine."</p>
+
+<p>"Next," Hera said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Zeus said. "By all means. Next."</p>
+
+<p>Mars got up. He was now scratching the hair on his
+chest. He looked around at the others with a definitely
+unfriendly expression.</p>
+
+<p>"The physical department is mine," he said. "The
+candidate can handle himself, all right. There isn't much
+doubt of it." He burped, wiped his mouth with the back
+of one hand, and went on: "Of course, he's let himself
+run to fat a little here and there, but it isn't really serious.
+Mainly a matter of glandular balance or something like
+that, as far as I understand Hermes' report."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester began to feel like a prize chicken.</p>
+
+<p>"And physical training," Mars said. "Well, there hasn't
+<i>been</i> any training, that's all. And that's bad."</p>
+
+<p>"He is not being considered for your position," Vulcan
+said. "One muscular brainless imbecile is enough."</p>
+
+<p>Mars took a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," Hera said. "Continue the report."</p>
+
+<p>The breath came out in an explosion. "All right," Mars
+said. "Discounting the training end of things, and assuming
+that Hermes can fix up the glandular mess, I think
+he can pass the physical."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester wasn't sure that he liked being referred to as
+a glandular mess. On the other hand, he asked himself,
+what could he do about it? He stood quietly, wondering
+what was coming next.</p>
+
+<p>His worst fears were fulfilled.</p>
+
+<p>Venus stepped forward and gave her report. Basically,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+it was a codicil, of a rather specialized nature, to the
+physical report. While it was going on, Forrester glanced
+at Athena. She looked every bit as embarrassed as he felt,
+and her face wore a look of sheer pain. Once he thought
+she was going to leave the room, but she remained
+grimly seated until it was all over.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester couldn't figure out, when he thought about
+it, how the Gods had managed to give him all these tests
+without his knowing anything about it. But, then, they
+were supernatural, weren't they? And they had their own
+methods. A mortal didn't have to understand them.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester wasn't sure he was happy with that idea, but
+he clung to it. It was the only one he had.</p>
+
+<p>When Venus finished her report, there was a little
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Any other comments?" Hera whispered to her
+husband.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes," Zeus said. "Other comments. If anyone has
+any other comments to make, please make them now.
+Now is the time to make them."</p>
+
+<p>He sat back. Morpheus stirred slightly and spoke without
+opening his eyes or sitting up. "Sleep," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Hera said: "Sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very important," Morpheus said slowly, "the candidate
+sleeps pretty well&mdash;soundly, as a matter of fact. The only
+trouble is that he doesn't get enough sleep. But then, no
+one on this entire crazy world ever does." He yawned and
+added: "Not even me."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. He realized,
+very suddenly, that he had come to a conclusion somewhere
+during the meeting. He was, he told himself,
+definitely sane.</p>
+
+<p>That left another conclusion. He was not dreaming
+anything that was happening. It was all perfectly real.</p>
+
+<p>And he was about to become a demi-God.</p>
+
+<p>That in itself didn't sound so bad. But he began to
+wonder, in a quiet sort of way, just what was going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+happen to William Forrester, acolyte and history professor,
+when Forrester/Bacchus had became a reality. With
+a blunt shock he knew that there was only one answer.</p>
+
+<p>William Forrester was going to die.</p>
+
+<p>It didn't matter what the verdict of the Gods was.
+There were more tests coming, he knew, and if he failed
+them the Gods would kill him quite literally and quite
+completely.</p>
+
+<p>But, he went on, suppose he passed the tests.</p>
+
+<p>In that case he was going to become Forrester/Bacchus,
+a substitute God. Plain old Bill Forrester would
+cease to exist entirely.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, a few traces might remain&mdash;his Beta curve, for
+instance, whatever that was. But Bill Forrester would be
+gone. Somehow, the idea of a revenant Beta curve didn't
+make up for the basic loss.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, he reminded himself again, what
+choice did he have?</p>
+
+<p>None.</p>
+
+<p>He forced himself to listen to what the Gods were
+saying.</p>
+
+<p>Zeus cleared his throat. "Well, I think that closes the
+subject. Am I right, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are," Hera said.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," Zeus said. "Then the subject is closed,
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Hera nodded wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, we can proceed with the investiture.
+Hephaestus, will you please take charge of the candidate?"</p>
+
+<p>Hephaestus/Vulcan sighed softly. "I suppose I must."
+He swung off the couch and stood half-crouched for a
+second. Forrester looked at him blankly. "Well," Vulcan
+said, "come on." He jerked his head toward Forrester.
+"Over here."</p>
+
+<p>With one last backward glance at Venus, Forrester
+walked across the room. Vulcan turned and hobbled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+ahead of him toward the wall. Forrester followed until,
+almost at the wall, a Veil of Heaven appeared. Feeling
+almost used to the thing by now, Forrester followed
+Vulcan through, and he didn't even look behind him to
+see if the Veil had vanished after they'd come through.
+He knew perfectly well it had. It always did.</p>
+
+<p>The room they had entered was similar to the others
+he had seen, but there was no change of colors. The walls
+glowed evenly and with a subdued light that filled the
+room evenly. And, for the first time, the walls weren't
+simply blanks that became things only when approached.
+The strangest-looking objects Forrester had ever seen
+filled benches, tables, chairs and the floor, and some were
+even tacked to the glowing walls. He stared at them for
+a long time.</p>
+
+<p>No two were alike. They seemed to be all sizes, shapes
+and materials. The only thing they really had in common
+was that they were unrecognizable. They looked, Forrester
+thought, as if a truckload of non-objective twentieth-century
+sculpture had collided with another truck
+full of old television-set innards. Then, in some way, the
+two trucks had fallen in love and had children.</p>
+
+<p>The scrambled horrors scattered throughout the room
+were, Forrester told himself bleakly, the children.</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan sat down on the only empty chair with a sigh.
+"This is my workshop," he announced gravely. "It is not
+arranged for visitors, nor for the curious. I must advise
+you to touch nothing, if you wish to save your hands, your
+sanity, and very possibly your life."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded dumbly. Vulcan's tone hadn't been
+unfriendly; he had merely been warning a stranger, in
+the shortest and clearest manner possible, against the
+dangers of feeling the merchandise. Not, Forrester
+thought, that the warning was necessary. He would as
+soon have thought of trying to fly as he would of touching
+one of the mixed-up looking things.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," Vulcan said, "if you'll&mdash;" He stopped. "Pardon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+me," he said, and levered himself upright. He went to a
+chair, swept a few constructions from it and put them
+carefully on a table. "Sit down," he said, motioning to the
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>Gingerly, Forrester sat down.</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan returned to his own chair and climbed onto it.
+"Now let us get to business."</p>
+
+<p>"Business?" Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," Vulcan said. "I imagine you were pretty
+well bewildered for a while. No more than natural. But I
+think you've figured it out by now. You know you are
+going to be given the powers of a demi-God, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not worry about it," Vulcan said. "The powers
+are&mdash;simply powers. They are not burdens. At any rate,
+they will not be burdensome to you. We know that&mdash;we
+have researched you to a fine point, as you may have
+gathered from the fol-de-rol back there." He gestured
+toward his right, evidently indicating the Court of the
+Gods.</p>
+
+<p>"But," Forrester said, "suppose I'm not what your tests
+say. I mean, suppose I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need for supposition. Beyond any shadow
+of doubt, we know how you, as a mortal, will react to
+any conceivable set of circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. "But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. You have realized what yet needs to be
+done. We know what your abilities and limitations are&mdash;<i>as
+a mortal</i>. The tests you have yet to pass are concerned
+with your actions and reactions as a demi-God."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester swallowed hard. He felt as if he were on a
+moving roller-coaster. No matter how badly he wanted to
+get off, it was impossible to do so. He had to remain
+while the car hurtled on.</p>
+
+<p>And where was he going?</p>
+
+<p>The Gods, he told himself with more than ordinary
+meaning, knew.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The power which is to be infused into you," Vulcan
+said, "if you don't mind the loose terminology&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind in the least," Forrester assured him
+earnestly. "Not in the least."</p>
+
+<p>"The power infused into you will make some changes.
+These will not only be physical changes. Mental changes
+must be expected."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. "Mental changes."</p>
+
+<p>"Correct. Physically, you see, you will become what no
+mortal can ever quite be: a perfectly functioning biological
+engine. Every sinew, nerve and muscle, every organ
+and gland, every tissue in your body will be in perfect
+harmonic balance with every other. Metabolically speaking,
+your catabolism and anabolism will be in such
+perfect balance that aging will not be possible."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester thought that over. "I'll be immortal," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"In that sense of the word," Vulcan said, "you will. You
+will be, as a matter of fact, quite a good deal tougher,
+stronger and harder than any animal now existing on the
+face of the Earth. I must except, of course, a few of the
+really big ones, like the elephant and the killer whale."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure."</p>
+
+<p>"But make no mistake. You can still be killed. A bullet
+through the heart will not do the job; it will merely incapacitate
+you for a few hours. But if you were to have
+your head blown off by a grenade, you would be quite
+dead. Remember that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how I could forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"You will heal with incredible rapidity, but there are
+limitations. Anything that pushes the balance too far will
+be fatal. You can lose a hand or even an arm without
+serious harm; the missing member will be regrown. But
+if you were to fall into a large meat-grinder&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I get the idea," Forrester said, feeling pale green.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," Vulcan said. "However, there is more."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>More?</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There are certain other powers to be given you in
+addition. You will learn of these later."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded blankly.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," Vulcan said, "all these physical changes will
+have a definite effect upon your psychological outlook,
+as I imagine you can plainly see."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester thought about it. "Well&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let us suppose that you are a coward who has
+avoided fights all his life. Now you are given these
+powers. What will happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be strong."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. You will be strong. And because you are
+strong, and almost indestructible, you suddenly decide
+that you can now get your revenge on the people who
+have pushed you around."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said, "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You begin to look for fights," Vulcan said. "You go
+around beating up everyone you can find, simply because
+you now know you can get away with it. Do you understand
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so."</p>
+
+<p>"A man with a vicious streak in him would be intolerable
+in this position. Can you see that? Take an example:
+Ares. Mars is a tough God, hard and at times brutal. But
+he is not vicious."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester was a little surprised to hear Vulcan say
+anything nice about Mars. He knew, as everyone did,
+the long history of ill-will and positive hatred the two
+had built up between them. It had begun soon after
+Vulcan's marriage to Aphrodite/Venus.</p>
+
+<p>He hadn't been a cripple then, of course. For a while,
+he and Venus had had a fine time. But Venus, apparently,
+just wasn't satisfied with the dull normal routine of
+married life. None of the Gods seemed to be, as a matter
+of fact. Either they were altogether too married, like
+Zeus, or else they weren't married enough, like Venus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+Or else they were like Diana and Athena, indifferent to
+marriage.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, Venus had begun looking around for fresh
+talent. And the fresh talent had been right there ready to
+sign up for a long contract on a strictly extra-legal basis.</p>
+
+<p>One day Vulcan caught them at it, his wife and Mars.
+Vulcan was angry, but Mars didn't exactly like to be interrupted,
+either, and he was a little faster on the draw.
+He tossed Vulcan over a nearby cliff, crippling him
+for good.</p>
+
+<p>And as for Aphrodite&mdash;who knew? It was entirely
+possible that, by this time, the Goddess of Love had run
+through the entire list of Gods and was now at work on
+the mortals.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester wasn't entirely sure he disliked the idea, on a
+simple physical level. But there was more than that to it,
+of course; there was Vulcan. Forrester found himself
+liking the solemn, positive workman. He didn't want to
+hurt him.</p>
+
+<p>And a liaison with Venus was certain to do just that.</p>
+
+<p>He came back to the present to hear Vulcan still discoursing.
+"Also," the God said, "changes in glandular
+balance must be made. These changes have a necessary
+effect on the brain. The personality changes subtly,
+though I can assure you that the change is not a marked
+one." He paused. "For all these reasons," he finished, "I
+am sure that you can see why we must subject you to
+further tests."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," Forrester said vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Now, you will not know whether a given
+incident&mdash;any given incident&mdash;is a perfectly natural occurrence
+or a test imposed on you by the Pantheon. Can
+you understand that?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan levered himself upright, his ugly face smiling
+just a little. "And remember what I have told you. No
+worrying. You don't even know just what any given test<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+is supposed to accomplish, so you can't know whether the
+action you choose is right or wrong. Therefore, worrying
+will do nothing for you. You will be at your best if you
+simply behave naturally."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, also, that you were picked not merely for
+your physical resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological
+resemblance as well. Therefore, playing his
+part should be comparatively simple for you. Right?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so," Forrester said, feeling both expectant and
+a little hopeless about it all.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," Vulcan said. "Now wait one moment." He
+turned and limped over to a structure that looked like a
+sort of worktable. When he came back, he was carrying
+several objects in his big hands. He selected one, an
+ovoid about the size of a marble, colored a dull orange,
+and handed it to Forrester. "Swallow that."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took it cautiously. As soon as he found out
+what he was supposed to do with the thing, its dimensions
+seemed to grow. It looked about the size of a golf
+ball in his shaking hands.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Swallow</i> it?" he said tentatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Correct," Vulcan said.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This object is a&mdash;well, call it a talisman. It will not
+dissolve, and it is recoverable, but for the Investiture it
+must be inside you."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will find it so easy to swallow that you will need
+no water. Go ahead."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester put the thing in his mouth and swallowed
+once, just to test Vulcan's statement. The effect was
+surprising. He could barely feel it leave his tongue, and
+he couldn't feel it go down at all. He swallowed again,
+experimentally, and explored the inside of his mouth with
+his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"It is gone," Vulcan said. "Good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's gone, all right," Forrester said wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"The sandals are next." Vulcan selected a pair of
+sandals with rather thick soles and handed them over.
+They were apparently made of gold. Forrester obediently
+strapped them on, and Vulcan next handed him a pair of
+golden cylinders indented to fit his curved fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"You hold these very tightly," Vulcan said. "During the
+Investiture, you must grip them as hard as you can." He
+peered closely at them and pointed to one. "This one
+goes in the left hand. The other goes in the right. Squeeze
+them as if&mdash;as if you were trying to crush them. All
+right?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan nodded. "Good. From this moment on, do exactly
+as you are told. Answer questions truthfully. Keep
+nothing secret. Remember my instructions."</p>
+
+<p>"Right," Forrester said doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," Vulcan said, heading for the wall. The
+inevitable Veil of Heaven appeared, and Forrester followed
+through it as before.</p>
+
+<p>The room they entered was not, he thought, the same
+one they had been in before. Or, if it was, it had changed
+a great deal. It was difficult to tell anything for sure; the
+shifting walls looked the same, but they also looked like
+the shifting walls in Venus' apartments.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, there were now no couches on the floor.
+The room seemed even bigger than before, and when the
+walls settled down to a steady golden glow, Forrester felt
+lost in the immensity of the place. In the center of the
+room was a raised golden dais. It was about five feet
+across and nearly three feet high.</p>
+
+<p>The Gods were ranged around it in a semicircle, facing
+him. Vulcan slipped into an empty space in the line,
+and Forrester stood perfectly alone, holding the cylinders.</p>
+
+<p>Zeus cleared his throat. "Step up on the dais," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Stumbling slightly, Forrester managed to do so without
+losing his grip on the cylinders.</p>
+
+<p>In the center of the raised platform, with the Gods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+staring at him, he felt like something under a microscope.</p>
+
+<p>"William Forrester," Zeus said, and he shuddered. The
+All-Father's voice had never been more powerful. "William
+Forrester, from this moment onward you will
+renounce your present name. You will be known as
+Dionysus the Lesser until and unless it shall please us
+to confer another name on you. Henceforth, you will be,
+in part, a recipient of the worship due to Dionysus, and
+you will hold the rank of demi-God. Do you accept these
+judgments and this honor?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester gulped. A long time seemed to pass. At last
+he found his voice. "I do," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," Zeus said.</p>
+
+<p>The Gods joined hands and closed the circle around
+Forrester, surrounding him completely. The golden auras
+that shone about their bodies grew more and more
+bright. Forrester clutched the golden cylinders tightly.</p>
+
+<p>Then, very suddenly, there was an explosion of light.
+Forrester thought he had staggered, but he was never
+sure. Everything was too bright to see. Dizziness began,
+and grew.</p>
+
+<p>The room whirled and tipped. Somewhere a great
+organlike note began, and went on and on.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester convulsed with the force of a single great
+burst of energy that crashed through his nervous system.</p>
+
+<p>And then, in a timeless instant, everything went black.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">The morning of the Autumn Bacchanal dawned bright
+and clear&mdash;thanks to the intervention of the Pantheon.
+In New York, the leaves were only just beginning to turn,
+and the sun was still high enough in the sky to make the
+afternoons warm and pleasant. Zeus All-Father had promised
+good weather for the festival, and a strong, warm
+wind from the Gulf of Mexico was moving out the crisp
+autumn air before the sun had risen an hour above the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>The practicing that had gone on in thousands of homes
+throughout the city was at an end. The Autumn Bacchanal
+was here at last, and the Beginning Service, which
+had started in the little Temple-on-the-Green right at
+dawn, when the sun's rays had first touched the tops of
+New York's towers, was approaching its end. The people
+clustered in the building, and the incomparably greater
+number scattered outside it, were feeling the first itch of
+restlessness.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the Grand Procession would begin, starting as always
+from the Temple-on-the-Green and wending its
+slow way northward to the upper end of Central Park
+at 110th Street. Then the string of worshippers would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+turn and head back for the Temple at the lower end of
+the Park, with fanfare and pageantry on a scale calculated
+to do honor to the God of the festival, to outshine
+not only every other festival, but every past year of the
+Autumn Bacchanal itself.</p>
+
+<p>The Autumn Bacchanal was devoted to the celebration
+of the harvest, and more specifically the harvest and
+processing of the grape. All the wineries for hundreds of
+miles around had shipped hogshead after hogshead and
+barrel after barrel of fine wine&mdash;red, white, rose, still, or
+sparkling&mdash;as joyous sacrifice to Dionysus/Bacchus, and
+in thanks that the fertility rites of the Vernal Bacchanal
+had brought them good crops. Wine flowed from everywhere
+into the city, and now the immense reserves were
+stacked away, awaiting the revels. Even the brewers and
+distillers had sent along their wares, from the mildest
+beer to vodka of 120 proof, joining unselfishly in the celebration
+even though, technically, they were not under
+Dionysian protection at all, but were the wards of Ceres,
+the Goddess of grain.</p>
+
+<p>Celebrants, liquors, chants, preparations, balloons, confetti,
+edibles and all the other appurtenances of the
+festival spiraled dizzyingly upward, reaching proportions
+unheard of throughout history. And, in a back room
+at the Temple-on-the-Green, the late William Forrester
+sat, trying to forget all about them, and suffering from
+a continuous case of nerves.</p>
+
+<p>Diana marched up and down in front of him, smacking
+her left fist into her calloused little right palm. "Now
+listen," she said crisply. "I know you're all hot and
+bothered, kid, but there's no reason to be. You're doing
+fine. They love you out there."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I am," Forrester said, unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are," Diana said. "You just got to have confidence,
+that's all. Keep your spirits up. Tried singing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Singing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Singing, kid. Raises the spirits."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Forrester blinked. "Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take it from me," Diana said. "How about Tenting
+Tonight?"</p>
+
+<p>"How about what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tenting Tonight," Diana said. "You know."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;guess I do." Forrester wished that Diana would do
+more than treat him like a pal. She was a remarkably
+beautiful woman, if you liked the type, and Forrester
+liked virtually any type.</p>
+
+<p>Now, success appeared to be within his grasp. But it
+did seem an odd time to bring the subject up. Oh, well,
+he thought, maybe she was just trying to cheer him up
+and had picked this way of doing it.</p>
+
+<p>It worked, too, he told himself happily.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat. "Where?"</p>
+
+<p>Diana stared. "Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Forrester said. Something was going
+wrong but he couldn't discover what it was. "The tenting."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Diana said. "Right here. Now. Raises the spirits."</p>
+
+<p>"I should say it does!" Forrester agreed enthusiastically.
+"But after all&mdash;right here&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry about it, kid. Nobody will hear you."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hear</i> me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anyway, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people
+do it when they feel low."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet they do," Forrester said. "But it's different with
+you and me."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" Diana said. "What do I have to do with it? I
+just told you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sure. And here and now is as good a time and
+place as any."</p>
+
+<p>Diana stepped back a pace. "Okay, let's hear it. Sing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sing? You mean I have to sing for my&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll join you," Diana said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. He was beginning to get confused.
+"You'd better," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tenting tonight on the old camp grounds</i>," she sang.
+"Now come on."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester coughed. "Oh," he said. "Sing."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Diana said, and they went through the song
+together. "How about another chorus?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Diana," Forrester said, knowing she
+preferred the name to her Greek one of Artemis. "I feel
+fine now."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Diana said in a disappointed voice, "all right."</p>
+
+<p>What surprised Forrester most was that he <i>did</i> feel
+fine. All the Gods had helped him in the past several
+months, but Diana had been especially helpful. As a
+forest Goddess, and as Protectress of the Night, she'd
+been able to tell him a lot about how an orgy was
+arranged. He had often wished that she would teach by
+example, but now, he discovered, it was too late for
+wishing.</p>
+
+<p>She was, he told himself with only faint regret, just
+like a sister to him. Or even a brother.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess everything will be okay," he said. "Won't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Diana clapped him on the back. "You're going to be
+great. Just go out there and show 'em what kind of a
+God you are."</p>
+
+<p>"But what kind of a God am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just keep cool, kid. You won't fail me&mdash;I know it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try," Forrester said. "Only I'm getting nervous
+just sitting around here. I wish we could go out and stroll
+around; we've got plenty of time, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>Diana nodded. "It's ten minutes yet before the Procession
+starts. I suppose we might as well take a look
+around, kid, if it makes you feel better."</p>
+
+<p>"It might."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine, then. But how do you want to go?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester blinked. "How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Invisibility," Diana said, "or incognito?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Forrester said. Then he added: "You're asking
+me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am, kid. Now, look: this is your celebration,
+remember? You're Dionysus. Got it? Even in my
+presence, you act the part now. You ought to know that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sure, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep this in mind. These people haven't had a Sabbatical
+Bacchanal in seven years. Every seven years they
+get to see their God&mdash;and this year you're it. Right?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so. But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No buts," Diana said. "You're the boss and they're
+your worshippers. That's all there is to it. Now, you've
+got to make up your mind. What'll it be?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester thought. "Well," he said at last, "I guess it
+had better be incognito. With this crowd, there's too
+much likelihood of getting bumped into if we're invisible.
+Right?"</p>
+
+<p>Diana grinned. "That's the boy! You're thinking
+straight now!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester had the sudden feeling that he had just
+passed another test. But he didn't quite dare ask about
+it "All right," he said instead. "Let's go."</p>
+
+<p>He put his mind to work concentrating on the special
+faculties that his demi-God power gave him. His face
+began to change. He looked less and less like Dionysus as
+the seconds went by, and more and more like William
+Forrester. At the same time, the golden aura around his
+body began to fade. After a few minutes he looked like
+William Forrester completely, a nice enough guy but
+pretty much of a nonentity.</p>
+
+<p>Diana, with the greater power of a true Goddess,
+achieved the same sort of result almost instantly. Her
+aura was gone and the sparkle had left her eyes. Her
+brown hair looked a little mousy now, and her face was
+merely pretty instead of being gloriously beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>"Just one thing," Forrester said. "We'd better make
+ourselves invisible just to leave the Temple. Somebody
+might suspect we weren't ordinary people at all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Right again," Diana smiled. She nodded her head
+and blinked out.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester could still see a cloudy outline of her in the
+room, but he knew that was because he was a demi-God,
+with special powers. An ordinary mortal, he knew, would
+see nothing at all.</p>
+
+<p>He followed her into invisibility and walked out the
+back door of the Temple-on-the-Green. The door was
+open and two Temple Myrmidons, wearing the golden
+grape-clusters of Dionysus on their shoulder patches,
+stood outside the door. Neither of them saw Forrester
+and Diana leave.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Three minutes later, they were standing near
+the doorway of the Temple, watching the preparations
+for the Grand Procession. The fifty priests of Dionysus
+gathered there while the enormous crowd pushed and
+shoved to get a better view of the ritual. The sacrifice
+of the first fruits had been completed, and now, at the
+door of the Temple, each of the fifty priests filled a
+chalice from a huge hogshead of purple wine.</p>
+
+<p>They chanted a prayer in unison and spilled half the
+wine on the ground as a libation. Then they lifted the
+chalices to their lips and drank, finishing the other half
+in one long motion.</p>
+
+<p>The chalices were set down, and a cheer rose from
+the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>The Bacchanal had begun!</p>
+
+<p>The priests separated into two equal groups. Twenty-five
+of them started northward, marching to their positions
+at regularly spaced intervals in the procession. The
+remaining twenty-five stayed behind, ready to accompany
+Dionysus himself at the tail of the parade.</p>
+
+<p>Each of the other Gods was represented by a special
+detachment of ten Myrmidons, each contingent wearing
+the distinctive shoulder patch of the God it served:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+the thunderbolt of Zeus, the blazing sun of Apollo, the
+pipes of Pan, the sword of Mars, the hammer of Vulcan,
+the poppy of Morpheus, the winged foot of Mercury, the
+trident of Neptune, the cerberus of Pluto, the peacock
+of Hera, the owl of Athena, the dove of Venus, the
+crescent of Diana, and the sprig of wheat that represented
+Mother Ceres. The Myrmidons grinned in expectation
+of the good times coming; a Dionysian festival was always
+something special, and competition for the contingents
+was always tough.</p>
+
+<p>There were balloons everywhere, as the crowd shoved
+and pushed into the line of march. Someone was bawling
+an old song about the lack of liquor, and the strident
+voice carried over the shouts and halloos of the mob:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>How dry I am&mdash;</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester and Diana, now visible, pushed their way
+through the crowds. A man flung his arm around the
+Goddess with abandon, shouting something indistinguishable;
+Diana shook him off gently and went on.
+Forrester almost tripped over a small boy sitting on the
+grass and crying. A Myrmidon was standing over him,
+and the child's mother was trying to lift the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanna go to the orgy," the boy kept saying. "I
+wanna go to the orgy."</p>
+
+<p>"Next year," the mother told him. "Next year, child,
+when you're six."</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidon lifted the child and carried him away.
+The mother shouted an address after him, and the
+Myrmidon nodded, pushed his way through a gesticulating
+group of celebrants and disappeared in the direction
+of Central Park West. There, other Dionysian
+Myrmidons were patrolling, making sure that no non-Dionysian
+got in except by special invitation. Any non-Dionysian
+who wanted to celebrate was supposed to do
+it on the streets of the city, and not in Central Park,
+which was going to be crowded enough with legitimate
+revelers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The shouting and screaming went on, people pushing
+and shoving, confetti beginning to drift like a light snow
+over the worshippers. One man held five balloons and a
+cigarette, and he was popping the balloons with the
+cigarette tip, one by one. Every time one of the balloons
+exploded, a group of women and girls around him
+shrieked and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned back. Behind a convenient bush, he
+and Diana made themselves invisible again, and re-entered
+the Temple-on-the-Green.</p>
+
+<p>The silence inside the Temple was deafening.</p>
+
+<p>"The noise out there could break eardrums," Forrester
+complained. "I've never heard anything like it."</p>
+
+<p>"Just wait," Diana told him. "The music will start any
+time now&mdash;and then you'll <i>really</i> hear something." She
+paused. "Ready?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester glanced down at himself. "I guess so. How
+do I look?" He had constructed a golden <i>chiton</i> and
+mentally clothed himself in it. It was covered by a grape-purple
+cloak embroidered with golden grapevines. And
+around his head a circlet of woven grapevines had appeared,
+made of solid gold. It was a little heavier than
+Forrester had expected it would be, but it lent him, he
+thought, rather a dashing air.</p>
+
+<p>"Great," Diana said. "Just great."</p>
+
+<p>"Think so?" Forrester said, feeling rather pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you do. Now go out there and give 'em the old
+college try."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester gulped. "How about you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? I'm on my way out of here. This is your show,
+kid. Make the most of it."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester watched her go out the rear door. He was
+alone. And the Autumn Bacchanal Processional was
+about to begin.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">Noise! Forrester, seated in the great golden palanquin
+supported by twelve hefty Priests of Dionysus, had
+never seen or heard anything like it. He waited there
+on the steps of the little Temple-on-the-Green for the
+Procession to wind by, so that he could take his place at
+the end of it. But the Procession looked endless.</p>
+
+<p>First came a corps of Priests and Myrmidons, leading
+their way stolidly through the paths of Central Park.
+Following them came the revelers, a mass of men and
+women marching, laughing, singing, shouting, dancing
+their way along to the accompaniment of more music
+than Forrester had ever dreamed of.</p>
+
+<p>The Dionysians had practiced for months, and almost
+everything was represented. There were violinists prancing
+along, violists and a crew of long-haired gentlemen
+and ladies playing the viol da gamba and the viol
+d'amore; there were guitarists plunking madly away,
+banjo players strumming and ukelele addicts picking
+at their strings, somehow all chorusing together. In a
+special pair of floats there were bass players, bass fiddle
+players and cellists, jammed tightly together and somehow
+managing to draw enormous sounds and scratches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+out of the big instruments. And behind them came the
+main band of musicians.</p>
+
+<p>The woodwinds followed: piccolo players piping, flutists
+fluting, oboe players, red-cheeked and glassy-eyed,
+concentrating on making the most piercing possible
+sounds, men playing English horns, clarinets, bass clarinets,
+bassoons and contra-bassoons, along with men
+playing serpents and, behind them, a dancing group
+fingering ocarinas and adding their bit to the general
+tumult, and two women tootling madly away on hoarse-sounding
+zootibars.</p>
+
+<p>And then, near the center of the musicians, were the
+brass: trumpets and trumpets-a-piston, trombones and
+valve trombones and Fulk horns, all blatting away to
+split the sky with maddening sound, Sousaphones and
+saxophones and French horns and bass horns and hunting
+horns, and tubas along in their own little cart, six
+round-cheeked men lost in the curves of the great instruments,
+valiantly blowing away as they rolled by
+into the woods of the park, making the city itself resound
+with tremendous noise and shattering cadence. And behind
+them was the battery.</p>
+
+<p>Kettle drums, bass drums, xylophones, Chinese gongs,
+vibraphones, snare drums and high-hat cymbals paraded
+by in carts, banged and stroked and tinkled enthusiastically
+by crew after crew of maddened tympanists. And
+then came the others, on foot: tambourines and wood
+blocks and parade cymbals and castanets. At the tail of
+this portion of the Procession came a single old man
+wearing spectacles and riding in a small cart drawn by
+a donkey. He had white hair and he was playing on a
+series of water-glasses filled to various levels. His ear
+was cocked toward the glasses with painstaking care. He
+was entirely inaudible in the general din, but he looked
+happy and satisfied; he was doing his bit.</p>
+
+<p>After him followed a group of entirely naked men
+and women playing sackbuts, and another group playing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+recorders. Bringing up the rear, as the Procession curved,
+was a magnificent aggregation of men and women yowling
+away on bagpipes of all shapes and sizes. All of the
+men wore sporrans and nothing more; the women wore
+nothing at all. The music that emanated from this group
+was enough to unhinge the mind.</p>
+
+<p>And then came the keyboard instruments, into the
+middle of which the five theremin-players had been
+stuck for no reason at all. The strange howls of this unearthly
+instrument filtered through the sound of pianos,
+harpsichords, psalters, clavichords, virginals and three
+gigantic electric organs pumping at full strength.</p>
+
+<p>And bringing up the very rear of the Procession was
+a special decorated cart, full of color and holding a lone
+man with long white hair, wearing a rusty black suit and
+playing away, with great attention and care, on the
+largest steam calliope Forrester had ever met. Jets of
+steam fizzed out of the top, and music bawled from the
+interior of the massive thing as it went by, trailing the
+Procession into the woods, and the entire aggregation
+swung into a single song, hundred upon hundreds of
+musicians and singers all coming down hard on the opening
+strains of the Hymn to Dionysus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord who rules the wine&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>He has trampled out the vintage of the grapes upon the vine!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The twelve Priests picked up the palanquin and Forrester
+adjusted his weight so they wouldn't find it too
+heavy. It was impossible to think in the mass of noise
+and music that went on and on, as the Procession wound
+uptown through the paths of Central Park, and the musicians
+banged and scraped and blew and pounded and
+stroked and plucked, and the great Hymn rose into the
+air, filling the entire city with the bawled chorus as even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+the twelve Priests joined in, adding to the ear-splitting
+din:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Glory, Glory, Dionysus!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Glory, Glory, Dionysus!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Glory, Glory, Dionysus!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>While his wine goes flowing on!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Forrester had always been disturbed by what he
+thought might have been a double meaning in that last
+line, but it didn't disturb him now. Nothing seemed to
+disturb him as the Procession wound on, and he was
+laughing uproariously and winking and nodding at his
+worshippers as they sang and played all around him, and
+the hours went by. Halfway there, he fished in the air
+and brought down the small golden disks with the picture
+of Dionysus on them that were a regular feature of
+the Processional, and flung them happily into the crowd
+ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Only one was allowed per person, so there was not
+much scrambling, but some of the coins pattered down
+on the various instruments, and one landed in the old
+gentleman's middle-C water glass and had to be fished
+out before he could go on with the Hymn.</p>
+
+<p>Carousing and noisy, the Procession finally reached the
+huge stand at the far end of the park, and the music
+stopped. On the stand was a whole new group of musicians:
+harpists, lyrists, players of the flageolet and
+dulcimer, two men sweating over glockenspiels, a group
+equipped with zithers and citharas and sitars, three
+women playing nose-flutes, two men with shofars, and
+a tall, blond man playing a clarino trumpet. As the
+Procession ground to a halt, this new band struck up the
+Hymn again, played it through twice, and then stopped.</p>
+
+<p>Seven girls filed out onto the platform in front of the
+musicians. One was there representing every year since
+the last Sabbatical Bacchanal. Forrester, riding high on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+the palanquin, beamed down at them, roaring with
+happy laughter. They were all for him. Having been
+carried to one end of the park in triumph, he was now
+to march back at the head of his people, surrounded by
+seven of the most beautiful girls in New York.</p>
+
+<p>Their final selection had been left, he knew, to a
+brewery which had experience in these matters. And the
+girls certainly looked like the pick of anybody's crop.
+Forrester beamed at them again, stood up in the palanquin
+and spread his arms wide.</p>
+
+<p>Then he sprang. In a flying leap, he went high into
+the air and did a full somersault, landing on his toes on
+the stage, twenty-five feet away. The girls were kneeling
+in a circle around him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, my doves!" he bellowed. "Come, my pigeons!"
+His Godlike golden baritone carried for blocks.</p>
+
+<p>He grabbed the two nearest girls by their hands and
+helped them to their feet. They blushed and lowered
+their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, all of you!" Forrester shouted. "We are about
+to begin the revels!"</p>
+
+<p>The girls rose and Forrester gestured them in closer.
+Then, surrounded by all seven, he threw back his head
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"A revel to make history!" he roared. "A revel beyond
+the imagination of man! A revel fit for your God!"</p>
+
+<p>The crowd cheered wildly. Forrester picked up one
+of the girls, tossed her into the air and caught her easily
+as she descended. He set her on her feet and put his
+hands solidly on his hips.</p>
+
+<p>"My cup!" he shouted. "Fill you my cup!"</p>
+
+<p>Behind the stage was a corps of Priests guarding a
+mountainous golden hogshead of wine, adjudged the
+finest wine produced during the year.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall have drink!" Forrester shouted. "We shall
+let the revels roar on!"</p>
+
+<p>Two priests came forward, staggering under the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+weight of a gigantic crystal goblet containing fully two
+gallons of the clear purple liquid. They bore it to Forrester
+with great pomp, and before them came a dozen
+players on the gahoon and the contra-gahoon, making
+Forrester's ears ring with deafening fanfares.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took the great goblet in one hand and held
+it with ease. Then he lifted it into the air with a wordless
+shout, filled his lungs and laughed. He put the goblet
+to his lips and drained it in a single long motion. A
+mighty hurrah shook the trees and rocks of the park.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester waved the goblet. "Again. Fill you my cup
+once more!" He embraced the seven girls with one
+sweeping gesture of his arms. "My little beauties must
+have drink! Fill you the cup!"</p>
+
+<p>He passed it back to the Priests carefully. They received
+it and went back to where the others were waiting
+to fill it. Then they staggered forward again and Forrester
+picked up the brimming goblet. He held it for
+the girls, each of whom tried to outdrink the others. But
+it was still more than half-full when they were finished.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester raised it again. The crowd shouted. "Observe
+your God!" Forrester roared. "Observe his powers!" He
+threw his head back and emptied the goblet. Then, holding
+it in one hand, he faced the assemblage and delivered
+himself of one Godlike belch.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd shrieked its approval. Forrester had the
+goblet filled once more and put three of the girls in
+charge of it. Then he came down the steps from the
+platform and began the long march back to the Temple-on-the-Green.</p>
+
+<p>The shouting, carousing revelers followed him joyfully.
+Halfway back, one of them stumbled forward and
+caught at the trailing edge of his robe. There was an
+immediate crackle and burst of static electricity, and
+the stumbler fell back yelping and shaking his arms.
+The Myrmidons came and took him away.</p>
+
+<p>Dionysus couldn't be touched by anyone except those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+authorized to do so&mdash;the seven girls and the Priests. But
+Forrester barely noticed the accident; he was too happy
+on top of his world, laughing and hugging the girls close
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him, the Priests at the golden hogshead, now
+set free to taste the wine themselves, had lost no time.
+They were dipping in busily with their own goblets&mdash;a
+good deal smaller than the two-gallon crystal one for
+Dionysus himself. There was not even any need for
+libations; enough ran over the brimming edges of the
+goblets to take care of that detail, and the Priests were
+soon well on the way to becoming sozzled.</p>
+
+<p>The musicians, now joined by the corps which had
+waited on the uptown stage, struck up a new tune, and
+drowned out even the shouting crowds as they cheered
+their God. After a little while, the crowds began to sing
+along with the magnificent noise:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Around the goblet&mdash;around the goblet&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And we'll all get&mdash;stinking drunk!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was by no means an official hymn, but Forrester
+didn't mind; it was sung with such a great deal of honest
+enthusiasm. He himself did not join in the singing; he
+was otherwise occupied. With his arms around two of
+the girls, drinking now and then from the great goblet
+three more were holding, and winking and laughing at
+the extra two, he made his joyous way down the petal-strewn
+paths of Central Park.</p>
+
+<p>The Procession wound down through the paths, over
+bridges and under tunnels, singing and playing and
+marching and dancing madly, while Forrester, at its
+head, caroused as merrily as any four of them. They
+reached a bridge crossing a little stream and Forrester
+sprang at it with a great somersaulting leap that carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+the two girls he was holding right along with him. He
+set them down at the slope of the bridge, laughing and
+giggling and the other girls, with the Procession behind
+them, soon caught up. Forrester let go of one of the girls,
+grabbed the goblet with his free hand and swung it in
+a magnificent gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>The Procession surged over the bridge, Forrester at its
+head. He grabbed the girl again, handing the goblet
+back to his corps of three carriers, and bowed and
+grinned at his worshippers behind him, surging forward,
+and at some others standing under the bridge, ankle-deep,
+shin-deep, even knee-deep in the rushing water,
+craning their necks upward to get a really good view of
+their God as he passed over. There were over a hundred
+of them there.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester didn't see a hundred of them.</p>
+
+<p>He saw one of them first, and then two more. And time
+seemed to stop with a grinding halt. Forrester wanted
+to run and hide. He clutched the girls closer to him with
+one instinctive gesture, and then realized he'd made the
+wrong move. But it was too late. He was lost, he told
+himself dolefully. The sun had gone out, the wine had
+lost its power and the celebration had degenerated to a
+succession of ugly noises.</p>
+
+<p>The first face he saw belonged to Gerda Symes.</p>
+
+<p>In that timeless instant, Forrester felt that he could
+see every detail of the soft, small face, the dark hair,
+the slim, curved figure. She was smiling up at him, but
+her face looked a little bewildered, as if she were smiling
+only because it was the thing to do. Forrester wondered,
+panic-stricken, how she, an Athenan, had managed to get
+entry to a Dionysian revel&mdash;but his wonder only lasted
+for a second. Then he saw the second and third faces,
+and he knew.</p>
+
+<p>The second face belonged to an absolute stranger. He
+looked like an oafish clod, even viewed objectively, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+Forrester was making no efforts in that direction. He
+had one arm around Gerda's waist and he was grinning
+up at her, and, sideways, at Forrester with a look that
+made them co-conspirators in what was certainly
+planned to be Gerda's seduction. Forrester didn't like
+the idea. As a matter of fact, he hated it more than he
+could possibly say.</p>
+
+<p>But all he could do was trust to Gerda's own doubtless
+sterling good sense. She couldn't possibly prefer a
+lout like her current escort to good old Bill Forrester,
+could she?</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, she thought Bill Forrester was
+dead. She'd had to think that; when he became Dionysus
+the Lesser, he couldn't just disappear. He had to die
+officially&mdash;and, as far as Gerda knew, the death wasn't
+just an official formality.</p>
+
+<p>With Bill Forrester dead, then, had she turned to the
+oaf for comfort? He didn't look very comforting, Forrester
+thought. He looked like a damned outrage on the
+face of the Earth. Forrester disliked him on first sight,
+and knew perfectly well that any future sights would
+only increase the dislike.</p>
+
+<p>It was the third face, though that explained everything.</p>
+
+<p>The third face was as unmistakable as Gerda's, though
+in an entirely different way. It was fleshy and pasty, and
+it belonged, of course, to Gerda's lovable brother Ed.
+Forrester saw everything in one flash of understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Ed Symes obviously had enough pull to get his sister
+invited to the Bacchanal. And from the looks of Gerda,
+he hadn't let the matter rest there. She was holding a
+half-filled plastic mug of wine in one hand&mdash;a mug with
+the picture of Dionysus stamped on it, which for some
+reason increased Forrester's outrage&mdash;and she was trying
+her best to look as if she were reveling.</p>
+
+<p>From the looks of her, Ed had managed to get her
+about eight inches this side of half-pickled. And from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+the horribly cheerful look on Ed's countenance, he
+wasn't about to stop at the half-pickled mark, either.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, from Ed's point of view&mdash;and Forrester told
+himself sternly that he had to be fair about this whole
+thing&mdash;from Ed's point of view there was nothing wrong
+in what was happening. He wanted to cheer Gerda up
+(undoubtedly the news of the Forrester demise had been
+quite a shock to her, poor girl), and what better way
+than to introduce her to his own religion, the best of
+all possible religions? The Autumn Bacchanal must have
+looked like the perfect time and place for that introduction,
+and Gerda's escort, a friend of Ed's&mdash;somehow
+Forrester had to think of him as Ed's friend; it was
+clearly not possible that he was Gerda's&mdash;had been
+brought along to help cheer the girl up and show her
+the advantages of worshipping Dionysus.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, the advantages hadn't turned out to be
+all that had been expected of them. Because now Gerda
+had seen Forrester alive and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Wait a minute, Forrester told himself.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda hadn't seen William Forrester at all.</p>
+
+<p>She had seen just what she expected to see; Dionysus,
+God of Wine. There was no reason for him to shrink
+from her, or try to hide. Just because he was walking
+along with seven beautiful girls, drinking about sixteen
+times the consumption of any normal right-thinking
+fish, and carousing like the most unprincipled of men,
+he didn't have to be ashamed of himself.</p>
+
+<p>He was only doing his job.</p>
+
+<p>And Gerda did not know that he wasn't Dionysus.</p>
+
+<p>The thought made him feel a little better, but it
+saddened him, too, just a bit. He set himself grimly and
+shouted: "Forward!" once more. To his own ears, his
+voice lacked conviction, but the crowd didn't seem to
+notice. The cheered frantically. Forrester wished they
+would all go away.</p>
+
+<p>He started forward. His foot found a large pebble that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+hadn't been there before, and he performed the magnificent
+feat of tripping on it. He flailed the air frantically,
+and managed to regain his balance. Then he was back on
+his feet, clutching at the girls. His big left toe hurt, but
+he ignored the agony bravely.</p>
+
+<p>He had to think of something to do, and fast. The
+crowd had seen him stumble&mdash;and that just didn't happen
+to a God. It wouldn't have happened to him, either except
+for Gerda.</p>
+
+<p>He got his mind off Gerda with an effort and thought
+about what to do to cover his slip. In a moment he had
+it. He swore a great oath, empurpling the air. Then he
+bent down and picked up the stone. He held it aloft for
+a second, and then threw it. Slowly and carefully he
+pointed his index finger at it, extending it and raising
+his thumb like a little boy playing Stick-'Em-Up.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Zap</i>," he said mildly, cocking the thumb forward.</p>
+
+<p>A crackling, searing bolt of blue-white energy leaped
+out of the tip of his index finger in a pencil-thin beam.
+It sped toward the falling pebble, speared it and
+wrapped it in coruscating splendor. Then the pebble exploded,
+scattering into a fine display of flying dust.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd stopped moving and singing immediately.</p>
+
+<p>Only the musicians, too intent on their noisemaking to
+see what had gone on, went on playing. But the crowd,
+having seen Forrester's display and heard his oath, was
+as silent as a collection of statues. When a God became
+angry, each was obviously thinking, there was absolutely
+no telling what was going to happen. Foxholes, some
+of them might have told themselves, would definitely be
+a good idea. But, of course, there weren't any foxholes
+in Central Park. There was nothing to do but stand very
+still, and hope you weren't noticed, and hope for the
+best.</p>
+
+<p>Even Gerda, Forrester saw, had stopped, her face
+still, her hand lifted in a half-finished wave, the plastic
+cup forgotten.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>I've got to do something</i>, Forrester thought. <i>I can't
+let this kind of thing go on.</i></p>
+
+<p>He thought fast, spun around and pointed directly
+at Ed Symes, standing in the water below the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>"You, there!" he bellowed.</p>
+
+<p>Symes turned a delicate fish-belly white. Against this
+basic color, his pimples stood out strongly, making, Forrester
+thought, a rather unusual and somewhat striking
+effect. The man looked as if he wished he could sink
+out of sight in the ankle-deep water.</p>
+
+<p>His mouth opened two or three times. Forrester
+waited, getting a good deal of pleasure out of the simple
+sight. Finally Symes spoke. "Me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly you! You look like a tough young specimen."</p>
+
+<p>Symes tried to grin. The effect was ghastly. "I do?" He
+said tentatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you do. Your God tells you so. Do you
+doubt him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Doubt? No. Absolutely not. Never. Wouldn't think
+of it. Tough young specimen. That's what I am. Tough.
+And young. Tough young specimen. Certainly. You
+bet."</p>
+
+<p>"Good," Forrester said. "Now let's see you in action."</p>
+
+<p>Symes took a deep breath. He seemed to be savoring
+it, as if he thought it was going to be his very last.
+"Wh&mdash;what do you want me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to pick up another stone and throw it.
+Let's see how high you can get it."</p>
+
+<p>Symes was obviously afraid to move from his spot in
+the water. Instead of going back to the land, he fished
+around near his feet and finally managed to come up
+with a pebble almost as big as his fist. He looked at it
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Throw!" Forrester said in a voice like thunder.</p>
+
+<p>Symes, galvanized, threw. It flew up in the air. Forrester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+drew a careful bead on it, went <i>zap</i> again with the
+pointed finger, and blasted the rock into dust.</p>
+
+<p>The silence hung on.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester laughed. "Not a bad throw for a mortal!
+And a good trick, too&mdash;a fine display!" He faced the
+crowd. "Now, there&mdash;what do you say to the entertainment
+your God provides? Wasn't that <i>fun</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Well, naturally it was, if Dionysus said so. A great
+trick, as a matter of fact. And a perfectly wonderful
+display. The crowd agreed immediately, giving a long
+rousing cheer. Forrester waved at them, and then turned
+to a squad of Myrmidons standing nearby.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to that man and his friends!" he shouted, noticing
+that Symes's knees had begun to shake.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidons obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"See that they follow near me. Allow them to remain
+close to me at all times&mdash;I may need a good stone-thrower
+later!"</p>
+
+<p>Gerda, her brother and the oaf without a name were
+rounded up in a hurry, and soon found themselves being
+hustled along, willy-nilly, out of the water, up onto the
+bridge and into Dionysus' van, where they followed in
+the wake of the God, in front of the rest of the Procession.
+Of the three, Forrester noted, Gerda was the
+only one who didn't seem to think the invitation a high
+honor. The sight gave him a kind of hope.</p>
+
+<p><i>And at least</i>, he thought, <i>I can keep an eye on her
+this way</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The Procession wended its way on, bending slowly
+southward toward the little Temple-on-the-Green again.
+The musicians played energetically, switching now from
+the hymn to their unofficial little ditty. Some switched
+before others, some switched after, and some never
+bothered to switch at all. The battery, caught between
+the opposing claims of two perfectly good songs and a
+lot of extraneous matter, filled in as best they could
+with a good deal of forceful banging and pounding,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+aided by the steam calliope, and the result of all effort
+was a growing cacophony that should have been terribly
+unpleasant but somehow wasn't.</p>
+
+<p>The shouting of the crowd, joking and singing, may
+have had something to do with it; nothing was clearly
+distinguishable, but the general feeling was that a lot of
+noise was being produced, and that was all to the good.
+Noise could have been packaged by the board foot and
+sold in quantities sufficient to equip every town meeting
+throughout the country in full for seven years, and
+there would have been enough left over, Forrester
+thought, to provide for the subways, the classrooms, the
+offices and even a couple of really top-grade traffic
+jams.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda and the others of her party marched quietly.
+Ed, Forrester noticed, tried a few cheers, but he got
+cold stares from his sister and soon desisted. The oaf
+shambled along, his arm no longer around Gerda's
+waist. This pleased Forrester no end, and he was in quite
+a happy mood by the time the Procession reached the
+Temple-on-the-Green.</p>
+
+<p>He was so happy that he performed his atoning high
+jump once again, this time with a double somersault and
+a jack-knife thrown in, just to make things interesting,
+and landed gently, feeling positively exhilarated and
+very Godlike, on the roof of the Temple.</p>
+
+<p>As the Procession straggled in, the music stopped.
+Forrester cleared his throat and shouted in his most
+penetrating roar to the silent assemblage: "Hear
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>The crowd stirred, looked up and paid him the most
+rapt attention.</p>
+
+<p>"On with the revels!" he roared. "Let the dancing
+begin! Let my wine flow like the streams of the park!
+Let joy be unrestrained!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood on the roof then, watching the crowd begin
+to disperse. It was the middle of the afternoon, and Forrester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+was amazed at how quickly the time had passed.
+The Procession itself had taken a good six hours from
+start to finish, now that he looked back on it, but it
+certainly hadn't seemed so long. And he didn't even
+feel tired, in spite of all the dancing and cavorting he
+had gone in for.</p>
+
+<p>He did feel slightly intoxicated, but he wasn't sure
+how much of that feeling was due purely and simply to
+the liquor he had managed to consume. But otherwise,
+he told himself, he felt perfectly fine.</p>
+
+<p>The musicians were breaking up into little groups of
+three and four and five and going off to play softly to
+themselves among the trees. The man with the steam
+calliope sat exhausted over his keyboard. The old man
+with the water glasses was receiving the earnest congratulations
+of a lot of people who looked like relatives.
+And now that the official music-making was over, a lot
+of amateurs playing jews'-harps and tissue-paper-covered
+combs and slide-whistles had broken out their contraptions
+and were gaily making a joyful noise unto their
+God. If, Forrester thought, you wanted to call it joyful.
+The general tenor of the sound was a kind of swooping,
+batlike whine.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester stared down. There were Gerda and her
+brother and the oaf. They were standing close by the
+Temple, three Myrmidons keeping guard over them. The
+rest of the crowd had dissolved into little bunches spreading
+all over the park. Forrester knew he would have to
+leave, too, and very soon. There were seven girls waiting
+for him down below.</p>
+
+<p>Not that he minded the idea. Seven beautiful girls,
+after all, were seven beautiful girls. But he did want
+to keep an eye on Gerda, and he wasn't sure whether he
+would be able to do it when he got busy.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere in the bushes, someone began to play a
+kazoo, adding the final touch of melancholy and heartbreak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+to the music. The formal and official part of the
+Bacchanal was now over.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>real</i> fun, Forrester thought dismally, was about
+to begin.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">"Now," Forrester said gaily, "let's see if your God has
+all the names right, shall we?"</p>
+
+<p>The seven girls seated around him in a half-circle on
+the grass giggled. One of them simpered.</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm," Forrester said. He pointed a finger. "Dorothy,"
+he said. The finger moved. "Judy. Uh&mdash;Bette. Millicent.
+Jayne." He winked at the last two. They had been his
+closest companions on the march down. "Beverly," he said,
+"and Kathy. Right?"</p>
+
+<p>The girls laughed, nodding their heads. "You can call
+me Millie," Millicent said.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Millie." For some reason this drew another
+big laugh. Forrester didn't know why, but then, he didn't
+much care, either. "That's fine," he said. "Just fine."</p>
+
+<p>He gave all the girls a big, wide grin. It looked perfectly
+convincing to them, he was sure, but there was one
+person it didn't convince: Forrester. He knew just how
+far from a grin he felt.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, he told himself, he was in something
+of a quandary.</p>
+
+<p>He was not exactly inexperienced in the art of making
+love to beautiful young women. After the last few months,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+he was about as experienced as he could stand being.
+But his education had, it now appeared, missed one vital
+little factor.</p>
+
+<p>He was used to making love to a beautiful girl all
+alone, just the two of them locked quietly away from
+prying eyes. True, it had turned out that a lot of his
+experiences had been judged by Venus and any other
+God who felt like looking in, but Forrester hadn't known
+that at the time and, in any case, the spectators had been
+invisible and thus ignorable.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, he was on the greensward of Central
+Park, within full view of a couple of thousand drunken
+revelers, all of whom, if not otherwise occupied, asked
+for nothing better than a good view of their God in action.
+And whichever girl he chose would leave six others
+eagerly awaiting their turns, watching his every move
+with appreciative eyes.</p>
+
+<p>And on top of that, there was Gerda, close by. He
+was trying to keep an eye on her. But was she keeping
+an eye on him, too?</p>
+
+<p>It didn't seem to matter much that she couldn't recognize
+him as William Forrester. She could still see
+him in action with the seven luscious maidens. The
+idea was appalling.</p>
+
+<p>All afternoon, he had put off the inevitable by every
+method he could think of. He had danced with each
+of the girls in turn for entirely improbable lengths of
+time. He had performed high-jumps, leaps, barrel-rolls,
+Immelmann turns and other feats showing off his Godlike
+prowess to anyone interested. He had made a display
+of himself until he was sick of the whole business. He had
+consumed staggering amounts of ferment and distillate,
+and he had forced the stuff on the girls themselves, in the
+hope that, what with the liquor and the exertion, they
+would lie down on the grass and quietly pass out.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, none of these plans had worked. Dancing
+and acrobatics had to come to an end sometime, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+as for the girls, what they wanted to do was lie down,
+not pass out&mdash;at least not from liquor.</p>
+
+<p>The Chosen Maidens had been imbued, temporarily,
+with extraordinary staying powers by the Priests of the
+various temples, working with the delegated powers of
+the various Gods. After all, an ordinary girl couldn't be
+expected to keep up with Dionysus during a revel, could
+she? A God reveling was more than any ordinary mortal
+could take for long&mdash;as witness the ancient legend concerned
+the false Norse God, Thor.</p>
+
+<p>But these girls were still raring to go, and the sun
+had set, and he was running out of opportunities for
+delay. He tried to think of some more excuses, and he
+couldn't think of one. Vaguely, he wished that the real
+Dionysus would show up. He would gladly give the
+God not only the credit, he told himself wearily, but
+the entire game.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced out into the growing dimness. Gerda was
+out there still, with her brother and the oaf&mdash;whose
+name, Forrester had discovered, was Alvin Sherdlap. It
+was not a probable name, but Alvin did not look like
+a probable human being.</p>
+
+<p>Now and again during the long afternoon, Forrester
+had got Ed Symes to toss up more rocks as targets, just
+to keep his hand in and to help him in keeping an eye
+on Gerda and her oaf, Alvin. It was a boring business,
+exploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes
+apparently got to like it, and thought of it as a singular
+honor. After all, he had been picked for a unique position:
+target-tosser for the great God Dionysus. Who else
+could make that statement?</p>
+
+<p>He would probably grow in the estimation of his
+friends, Forrester thought, and that was a picture that
+wouldn't stand much thinking about. As a stupefying
+boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferable snobbishness
+to his present personality was piling Pelion on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+Ossa. And only a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly,
+could possibly do that.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap
+and Gerda were all sitting around a large keg of beer
+which Symes had somehow managed to appropriate from
+some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin were
+guzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling
+away the time, apparently, by thinking. Forrester
+wondered if she was thinking of him, and the notion
+made him feel sad and poetic.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The
+darkness of night had come down and there was no moon.
+The only illumination was the glow rising from the rest
+of the city, since the lights of the park would stay out
+throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaining
+light was not enough to see anything more than a
+few feet away. But to Forrester's Godlike, abnormally
+perceptive vision, the park seemed no darker than it had
+at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes trio
+could not possibly see him, he could still watch over
+them with no effort at all.</p>
+
+<p>He intended to continue doing so.</p>
+
+<p>But now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities,
+and his mind completely empty of excuses, was the
+time to begin the task at hand.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said. "Well."</p>
+
+<p>There had to be something to follow that, but for a
+minute he couldn't think of what.</p>
+
+<p>Millicent giggled unexpectedly. "Oh, Lord Dionysus!
+I feel so <i>honored</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Er," Forrester said. Finally he found words. "Oh, that's
+all right," he said, wondering exactly what he meant.
+"Perfectly all right, Millicent."</p>
+
+<p>"Call me Millie."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Millie."</p>
+
+<p>"You can call me Bets, if you want to," Bette chimed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+in. Bette was a blonde with short, curly hair and a startling
+figure. "It's kind of a pet name. You know."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Forrester said. "Uh&mdash;would you mind keeping
+your voices down a little?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" Millicent asked.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. "Well,"
+he said at last, thinking about Gerda, only a few feet
+away, "I thought it might be nicer if we were quiet.
+Sort of private and romantic."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Bette said.</p>
+
+<p>Kathy spoke up. "You mean we have to whisper?
+As if we were doing something secret?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester tightened his lips. He felt the beginnings of
+a strong distaste for Kathy. Why couldn't she leave well
+enough alone? But he only said: "Well, yes. I thought
+it might be fun. Let's try it, girls."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said demurely.</p>
+
+<p>He disliked her, he decided, intensely.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said. "You're all such beautiful girls
+that I hardly know how to&mdash;ah&mdash;proceed from here."</p>
+
+<p>Millicent tittered. So did one of the others&mdash;Judy,
+Forrester thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't want any of you to feel disappointed, or
+think you were any lower in my estimation than&mdash;than
+any other one of you." The sentence seemed to have got
+lost somewhere, Forrester thought, but he had straightened
+it out. "That wouldn't be fair," he went on, "and we
+Gods are always fair."</p>
+
+<p>The sentence didn't ring quite true in Forrester's mind,
+and he thought he heard one of the girls snicker, but he
+ignored it and went bravely on.</p>
+
+<p>"So," he said, "we're going to have a little game."</p>
+
+<p>Millicent said: "Game?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," Forrester said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic.
+"We all like games, don't we? I mean, what's an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+orgy&mdash;I mean, what's a revel&mdash;but a great big game? Isn't
+that right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Bette said doubtfully, "I guess so. Sure,
+Lord Dionysus, if you say so."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sure it is!" Forrester said. "Fun and games!
+So we'll play a little game. Ha-ha."</p>
+
+<p>Kathy looked up at him brightly. "What kind of game,
+Lord Dionysus?" she asked in an innocent tone. She was
+an extravagantly pretty brunette with bright brown eyes,
+and she had been one of the two he had held in his
+arms during the Procession back from the uptown end of
+the park. Thinking it over now, Forrester wasn't entirely
+sure whether he had chosen her or she had chosen him,
+but it didn't really seem to matter, after all.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now," he said, "it's going to be a game of
+pure chance. Chance and nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>"Like luck," Bette contributed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right&mdash;uh&mdash;Bets," Forrester said. "Like luck.
+And I promise not to use my powers to affect the outcome.
+Fair enough, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," Kathy said demurely. There was really
+no reason for him to be irritated by the girl, so long as
+she was agreeing with him so nicely. Nevertheless, he
+wasn't quite sure that she was speaking her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," Millicent said. "Sure."</p>
+
+<p>Bette nodded. "Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Lord Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester waved a hand. "No need for formality," he
+said, and felt like an ass. But none of the girls seemed
+to notice. Agreement with his idea became general. "Well,
+let's see."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes wandered over the surrounding scenery in
+quiet thought. Several Myrmidons were scattered about
+twenty feet away, and they were standing with their
+backs to the group as a matter of formality. If they had
+turned around, they couldn't have seen a thing in the
+darkness. But they had to remain at their stations, to
+make sure no unauthorized persons, souvenir-hunters,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+musicians, special-pleaders or just plain lost souls intruded
+upon great Dionysus while he was occupied.</p>
+
+<p>The Myrmidons were the only living souls within that
+radius, except for Forrester himself and his bevy&mdash;and
+the Symes trio.</p>
+
+<p>His gaze settled on them. Ed Symes, he noticed with
+quiet satisfaction, was now out cold. Forrester thought
+that the little spell he had cast on the beer might have
+had something to do with that, and he felt rather pleased
+with his efforts, at least in that direction. Symes was lying
+flat on his back, snoring loudly enough to drown out all
+but a few notes from the steam calliope, which was
+singing itself loudly to sleep somewhere in the distance.
+Near the prone figure, Gerda was trying to fend off the
+advances of good old Alvin Sherdlap, but it was obvious
+that the sheer passage of time, plus the amount of liquor
+she had consumed, were weakening her resistance.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester pointed a finger at the man. The one thing
+he really wanted to do was to give Alvin the rock treatment.
+One little <i>zap</i> would do it, and Alvin Sherdlap
+would encumber the Earth no more. And it wasn't
+as if Alvin would be missed, Forrester told himself. It
+was clear from one look at the lout that no one, anywhere,
+for any reason, would miss Alvin if he were exploded
+into dust.</p>
+
+<p>The temptation was very nearly irresistible, but somehow
+Forrester managed to resist it. He had been told
+that he had to be extremely careful in the use of his
+powers, and he had a pretty good idea that he wouldn't
+be able to justify blasting Alvin. Viewed objectively,
+there was nothing wrong with what the oaf was doing.
+He was merely following his religion as he understood
+it, and the religion was a very simple one: when at an
+orgy, have an orgy.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda didn't have to give in if she didn't want to,
+Forrester thought. He tried very hard to make himself
+believe that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But his finger was still pointed at the man. He didn't
+stop his powers entirely; he merely throttled them down
+so that only a tiny fraction of the neural energy at his
+command came into play. The energy that came from the
+tip of his finger made no noise and cast no light. It was
+not a killing blow.</p>
+
+<p>Invisibly, it leaped across the intervening space and
+hit Alvin Sherdlap squarely on the nose.</p>
+
+<p>The results were eminently satisfactory. Alvin uttered
+a sharp cry, let go of Gerda and fell over backward.
+His legs stood up straight in the air for a second, and
+then came down to hit the ground. He was silent. Gerda
+stared down at him, too tired and confused to make any
+coherent picture out of what was going on.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed happily to himself. <i>That</i>, he thought,
+<i>ought to take care of Alvin for a while</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Dionysus," Kathy asked in that same innocent
+tone, "what are you pointing at out there?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was decidedly irritating, Forrester thought.
+"Pointing?" he said. "Ah, yes." He thought fast. "My
+target-tosser. I fear that his religious fervor has led
+to his being overcome."</p>
+
+<p>The girls all turned round to look but, of course,
+Forrester thought, they could see nothing at all in the
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness," Bette said.</p>
+
+<p>"But if he's unconscious," Kathy put in, "why were
+you pointing at him?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester told himself that the next time the Sabbatical
+Bacchanal was held, he would see to it that an intelligence
+test was given to every candidate for Dionysian Escort,
+and anyone who scored as high on it as Kathy would
+be automatically disqualified.</p>
+
+<p>He had to think of some excuse for looking at the man.
+And then he had it&mdash;the game he had planned. It was
+really quite a nice little idea.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate to see the poor mortal miss out on the rest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+of the evening," Forrester said, "even if he is asleep now.
+And I think we may have a use for him."</p>
+
+<p>He gestured gently with one hand.</p>
+
+<p>Gerda and Alvin Sherdlap didn't even notice what
+was happening. They were much too busy arguing, Alvin
+claiming that somebody had slapped him on the nose&mdash;"and
+pretty hard, too, let me tell you!"&mdash;and Gerda swearing
+she hadn't done it. The fact that Ed Symes's snores
+were fading quietly into the distance dawned on neither
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>But Ed was in flight. He rose five feet above the
+ground, still unconscious and snoring, and sped unerringly
+across the air, like a large, fat arrow shot from a bow, in
+the direction of Forrester and the circle of girls.</p>
+
+<p>He appeared overhead suddenly, and Forrester controlled
+him so that he drifted downward as delicately as
+an overweight snowflake, eddying in the slight breeze
+while the girls gaped at him. Forrester allowed the body
+to drop the last six inches out of control, so that Ed
+Symes landed with a heavy thump in the center of the
+circle. But no harm was done. Ed was very far gone
+indeed; he merely snored on.</p>
+
+<p>"There," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>Millicent blinked. "Where?" she said. "Him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," Forrester said in a pleased tone. "He's
+a good deal too noisy, though, don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"He snores a lot," Judy offered in a tentative voice, "if
+that's what you mean, Lord Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. And I don't see any reason to put up with
+it. Instead, well just put him in stasis for a little while,
+and that'll keep him quiet." Again he waved one hand,
+almost carelessly. Ed Symes's snores vanished immediately,
+leaving the world a cleaner, purer, quieter place to live
+in, and his body became as rigid as if he were a statue.</p>
+
+<p>"There," Forrester said again with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what?" Kathy asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we straighten him out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One more pass, and Ed Symes's arms were at his sides,
+his legs stretched straight out. Only his stomach projected
+above the rigid lines of his body. Forrester thought he
+had never seen a more pleasing sight.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy gasped. "Is he&mdash;is he dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester looked at her reprovingly. "Dead? Now what
+would I do that for, after he's been so helpful and all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said, "he's not dead. He's just in stasis&mdash;in
+a state of totally suspended animation. As soon as
+I take the spell off, he'll be all right. But I don't think
+I'll take it off just yet. I've got plans for my little target-tosser."</p>
+
+<p>He reached over and touched the stiff body. It seemed
+to rise a fraction of an inch, floating on the tips of the
+grass. The wind stirred it a little, but it didn't float
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I took some of his weight off," Forrester explained,
+"so he'll be a little easier to handle."</p>
+
+<p>Now Ed Symes was behaving as if he were a statue
+carved out of cork. With a quick flip, Forrester turned
+the statue over. The effect was exactly what he wanted.
+Ed did not touch the grass at any point except one: the
+point where his protuberant stomach most protruded.
+Fore and aft, the rest of him was balanced stiffly in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester gazed at the sight, feeling fulfilled. "Now," he
+said with a note of decision in his voice, "we are going
+to play Spin-the-Bottle!"</p>
+
+<p>The girls giggled and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean with him?" Bette said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed. "That's right," he said patiently.
+"With him."</p>
+
+<p>He got into position and looked up at the girls. "This
+one's just for practice, so we can all see how it works."
+He gave Symes's extended foot a little push.</p>
+
+<p><i>Whee!</i> he thought. Round and round the gentleman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+went, spinning quietly on his stomach, revolving in a
+merry fashion while the girls and Forrester watched
+silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nose pointing
+at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "He's pointing at me!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is not!" Bette said decisively. "His head points
+my way!"</p>
+
+<p>"But he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Temper, temper," Forrester said. "No arguments. That
+one didn't count, anyhow&mdash;it was just to see how he
+worked. And I do think he works very nicely, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said. There was the
+same undertone in her voice, as if she were silently
+laughing at everything. She was, he told himself, an
+extremely unlikable young woman.</p>
+
+<p>The other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still
+studying the stiff body of Ed Symes. His stomach had
+made a little depression in the grass as he whirled, and
+he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin. Forrester
+rubbed his hands together.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," he said. "Now, all of you are going to be
+judges."</p>
+
+<p>"Me, too?" Bette asked.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. "The head will be the determining
+factor. If our little Mr. Bottle's head points to any one
+of you, that is the one I'll choose first."</p>
+
+<p>"See?" Bette said. "I told you it was his head."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so," Dorothy
+said. "And anyhow, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, now, girls," Forrester said, feeling momentarily
+like a Girl Scout troop leader. "Let's listen to the rules,
+shall we? And then we can get down to playing the
+game." He took a deep breath. "Isn't this fun?"</p>
+
+<p>The girls giggled.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," Forrester said. "If Mr. Bottle's head ends up
+between two of you, then the other five girls will have to
+decide which girl the head's nearer to. The two girls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+involved will remain absolutely quiet during the judging,
+and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,
+we'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean if the head points at me, I get picked,"
+Bette said. "And if the head goes in between me and
+somebody else, all the other girls have to decide who
+gets picked."</p>
+
+<p>It was a masterly summation.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle
+a spin. This one counts. We'll have the second spin, and
+the rest of them, later."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this <i>exciting</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I
+give you my word as a God that I will not interfere in any
+way with the workings of chance. Is that clearly understood?"</p>
+
+<p>The girls murmured agreement.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice
+circle. I'll stand outside."</p>
+
+<p>The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves
+in a circle, arguing about who was going to sit next
+to whom, and whose very proximity was bound to bring
+bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check
+on Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but
+they weren't touching each other. Forrester turned up
+his hearing to get a better idea of what was going on.</p>
+
+<p>They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument
+to life-history. Gerda was telling Alvin all about
+her past.</p>
+
+<p>"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that
+I was in love with a very fine young man. An Athenan,
+he was. A wonderful man, really wonderful. But he&mdash;he
+was killed in a subway accident some months ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand.
+I still love him. He was wonderful. And until I get over
+it, I simply can't ..."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Feeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well
+as sorry for the poor girl, Forrester quit listening. The
+Gods had arranged his simulated death, which, of course,
+had been a necessity. His disappearance had to be explained
+somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda
+having to suffer so much.</p>
+
+<p><i>My God!</i> Forrester thought. <i>She still loves me!</i></p>
+
+<p>It was the first time he had ever heard her say so,
+flatly, right out in the open. He wanted to bound and
+leap and cavort&mdash;but he couldn't. He had to go back
+to his seven beautiful girls.</p>
+
+<p>He had never felt less like it in his life.</p>
+
+<p>But at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping
+Alvin at arm's length. She was being faithful to his
+memory.</p>
+
+<p>Faithful&mdash;because she loved him.</p>
+
+<p>Grimly, he turned back to the girls. "Well, are we
+all ready now?"</p>
+
+<p>Kathy looked up at him brightly. "Lord Dionysus,
+it's so dark I can't even see for sure what's going on.
+How can we do any judging, if we can't see?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester cursed Kathy for pointing out the flaw in his
+arrangements. Then, making a nice impartial job of it,
+he cursed himself for forgetting that what was perfectly
+visible to him was dark night to mortals.</p>
+
+<p>"We can clear that up," he said quickly. "As a matter
+of fact, I was just getting around to it. We will now
+proceed to shed a little light on the subject&mdash;said subject
+being our old friend Mr. Bottle."</p>
+
+<p>The trick had been taught to him by Venus, but he'd
+never had a chance to practice it. This was his first
+real experience with it, and he could only hope that
+it went off as it was supposed to.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped into the middle of the circle, near Ed
+Symes's stiff body and held his right hand above his
+head, thumb and forefinger spread an inch apart and
+the other three fingers folded into his palm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he concentrated.</p>
+
+<p>A long second ticked by, while Forrester tried to apply
+even more neural pressure. Then ...</p>
+
+<p>A small ball of light appeared between his thumb and
+forefinger, a yellow, cold sphere of fire that shed its
+radiance over the whole group. Carefully, he withdrew
+his hand, not daring to breathe. The ball of yellow fire
+remained in position, hanging in mid-air.</p>
+
+<p>The muffled gasp from the circle of girls was, Forrester
+told himself, a definite tribute.</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't worry about it, girls," he said. "That light's
+only visible to the eight of us. Nobody else can see it."</p>
+
+<p>There was another little series of gasps.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester grinned. "Can everybody see each other?"</p>
+
+<p>A murmur of agreement.</p>
+
+<p>"Can everybody see Mr. Bottle here?"</p>
+
+<p>Another murmur.</p>
+
+<p>"In that case, let's go." He stepped outside the circle
+of girls, reached in again for Ed Symes's foot, and set the
+gentleman spinning once more.</p>
+
+<p>Symes spun with a blinding speed, making a low,
+whistling noise. Forrester watched the body spin dizzily,
+just as anxious as the girls were to find out who the first
+winner was going to be. He thought of Millicent, who
+chewed gum and made it pop. He thought of Bette, the
+inveterate explainer and double-take expert. He tried
+to think of Dorothy and Jayne and Beverly and Judy,
+but the thought of Kathy, irritating and uncomfortable
+and too damned bright for her own good, got annoyingly
+in the way.</p>
+
+<p>He was rather glad he had promised not to use his
+powers on the spinning figure. He was not at all sure
+which one of the girls he would have picked for Number
+One.</p>
+
+<p>And he had, after all, given his word as a God. True,
+he wasn't quite a God, only a demi-Deity. But he did
+feel that Dionysus might object to his name being used<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+in vain. A promise, he told himself sternly and with some
+relief, was a promise.</p>
+
+<p>After some time, Mr. Ed (Bottle) Symes began to
+slow perceptibly. The whistling died as Symes began
+rotating about his abdominal axis at a more and more
+leisurely rate. Seconds passed. Symes faced Bette ...
+Millicent ... Kathy ... Judy ... Bette again ...</p>
+
+<p>Forrester watched, fascinated.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, Symes came to a halt. All the elaborate instructions
+in case the Bottle ended up pointing between two
+girls had been, Forrester saw, totally unnecessary. Symes's
+head was pointing at one girl, and one girl alone.</p>
+
+<p>She gave a little squeal of delight. The others began
+chorusing their congratulations at once, looking no more
+convincing than the runners-up in any beauty contest.
+Their smiles appeared to have been glued on loosely,
+and their voices lacked a certain something. Possibly it
+was sincerity.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, that's it for now." Forrester turned to the
+winner. "My congratulations," he said, wondering just
+what he was supposed to say. Not finding any appropriate
+words, he turned back to the group of six losers. "The
+rest of you girls can do me a big favor. Go get a couple
+of the Myrmidons to protect you, hunt around for the
+nearest wine barrel and confiscate it for me. It's been a
+thirsty day."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee," Jayne said. "Sure we will, Lord Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>"Now take your time," Forrester said, and the losers
+all giggled at once, like a trained chorus. Forrester
+grimaced. "Don't come back till you find a barrel. Then
+we'll play the game again."</p>
+
+<p>In a disappointed fashion, the six of them trooped off
+into the darkness and vanished to mortal eyes. Forrester
+watched them go and then turned to the winner, feeling
+just a little uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Kathy," he started. "I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She flung herself on him with the avid girlishness of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+a Bengal tiger. "I have dreamed of this night since I was
+but a child! At last I am in your arms! I love you! Take
+me! I am yours, all yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's nice," Forrester said, taken far aback by the
+girl's sudden onslaught. His immediate impulse was to
+unwind Kathy and set her back on her own feet, some
+little distance away, after which he could start again
+on a more leisurely basis. After all, he told himself, people
+ought to spend more time getting to know each other.</p>
+
+<p>But he remembered, just in time, that he was Dionysus.
+He conquered his first impulse and put his arms around
+her. As he did so, he discovered that his face was being
+covered with kisses. Kathy was murmuring little indistinct
+terms of endearment into his ear every time she reached
+it en route from one side of his face to the other.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester swallowed hard, tightened his grip and
+planted his lips firmly on Kathy's. A blaze of startling heat
+shot through him.</p>
+
+<p>In a small corner at the back of his mind, a scroll
+unrolled. On it was written what Vulcan had told him
+about his mental attitude changing after Investiture.
+When he had been plain William Forrester, an attack like
+the one Kathy was making on him had pretty much
+chilled him for a while. But now he found himself definitely
+rising to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>There was a passion to her kiss that he had never felt
+before, a rising tide of flame that threatened to char him.
+The movement of her mouth on his sent new fires burning
+throughout his body, and as her hands moved on him
+he was awakened to a new world, a world of consuming
+desires.</p>
+
+<p>He wished his own clothing away, and fumbled for a
+second at the two fastenings that held Kathy's <i>chiton</i>
+in place. Then it was gone and there was nothing between
+them. They met, flesh to flesh, in a fiery embrace that
+grew as he forced her down and she responded eagerly,
+wildly, to his every motion. His lips traveled over her;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+her entire body was drowning him once and for all in
+an unbelievable red haze, unlike anything he had ever
+before experienced ... a great wave of passion that
+went on and on, rising to a peak he had never dreamed
+of until his body shivered with the sensations, and he
+pressed on, rising still higher in an ecstasy beyond
+measure....</p>
+
+<p>His last spasm of tension turned out the God-light.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>She lay in his arms on the grass, holding him
+almost as tightly as he held her. He felt exhausted, but
+he knew perfectly well that he wasn't. A God was a God,
+after all, and Kathy was only the hors d'oeuvres of a
+seven-course dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"You're wonderful," Kathy said in a soft whisper at
+his ear. "Absolutely wonderful. More wonderful than
+I could ever dream. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She was interrupted by a strange, harsh voice that
+bellowed from somewhere nearby.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, bitch!" it said. "Get the hell up from there!
+And you too, buster!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester jerked his head up in astonishment and froze.
+Kathy looked up, fright written all over her face.</p>
+
+<p>The man standing over them in the darkness looked
+like a prize-fighter, one who had taken a number of
+beatings, but always given better than he had received.
+His arms were akimbo, his feet planted as firmly as if
+he were a particularly stubborn brand of tree. He glared
+down at them, his face expressive of anger, hatred&mdash;and,
+Forrester thought dully, a complete lack of respect for
+his God.</p>
+
+<p>The man barked: "You heard what I said! On your feet,
+buster! If I have to kick your teeth in, I want to do it
+when you're standing up!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's jaw dropped. Then, as the initial shock
+left him, anger boiled in to take its place. He toyed with
+the idea of blasting this mortal who showed such disrespect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+to a God. He sprang to his feet, ready to move,
+and then stopped.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe the man was crazy. Maybe he was just some
+poor soul who wasn't responsible for his own actions. It
+would be merciful, Forrester thought, to find out first,
+and blast the intruder afterward.</p>
+
+<p>He looked around. Twenty yards away, the encircling
+Myrmidons still stood, their backs to the scene, as if
+nothing at all were going on.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester blinked. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>The man barked a laugh. "None of your business." He
+turned to Kathy, who had devoted the previous few
+seconds to getting her <i>chiton</i> on again. Hurriedly, Forrester
+wished back his own costume. Kathy got up, staring
+straight back at the intruder. Fear was gone from her
+face, and a kind of calmness that Forrester had never
+seen before possessed her now.</p>
+
+<p>"So!" the intruder bellowed. "The minute my back is
+turned, off you go! By the Stars and Galaxy, I&mdash;I don't
+know what to call you! You're worse than your predecessor!
+Can't turn anything down! You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now wait!" Forrester bellowed in his most Godlike
+voice. "Just hold still there! Do you know who you're
+talking to? How dare you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And Kathy interrupted him. Forrester stood mute as
+she stripped the stranger with a voice like scalding acid.
+"Listen, you," she said, pointing a finger at the man.
+"Who do you think you are&mdash;my husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"By the Stars&mdash;" the stranger began.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't bother trying to scare me with your big mouth,"
+Kathy went on imperturbably. "You don't mean a thing
+to me and you can't order me around. What's more, you
+know it. You're not my husband, you big thug&mdash;and
+you're never going to be. I'll sleep with whomever I
+please, and whenever I please, and wherever I please,
+and that's the way things are going to be. After all,
+lard-head, it's my job, isn't it? Got any questions?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her <i>job</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Forrester began to wonder just what he had managed
+to walk into now. But that was a detail. The important
+thing was that his Godhood had been grossly, unbelievably
+insulted&mdash;and at a damned inconvenient time, too!</p>
+
+<p>He stepped between Kathy and the intruder, his eyes
+flashing fire. "Do you know who I am? Do you know
+that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he knows," Kathy put in abruptly. "And if
+you don't want to get hurt, I'd advise you to stay out
+of this little quarrel."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester turned and stared at her.</p>
+
+<p>What the everlasting bloody hell was going <i>on</i>?</p>
+
+<p>But there wasn't any time to think. The intruder put
+his face up near Forrester's and glared at him. "Sure I
+know who you are, buster," he said. "You're a wise guy.
+You're a Johnny-come-lately. And I know what I ought
+to do with you, too&mdash;take you apart, limb by limb!"</p>
+
+<p>That did it. Forrester, seeing several shades of red,
+decided that no God could possibly object if this ugly
+blasphemer were blasted off the face of the Earth. He
+raised a hand.</p>
+
+<p>And Kathy grabbed it. "<i>Don't!</i>" she said in a frightened
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>The intruder grinned wolfishly at him. "Pay no attention
+to Little Miss Sacktime over there, Forrester.
+You go right ahead and try it! All I need is an excuse
+to vaporize you. Just one tiny little excuse&mdash;and I'll do the
+job so damn quick, your head won't even have time
+to start swimming." He set himself. "Go on. Let's see your
+stuff, Forrester."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester's arm came down, without his being aware
+of it. There was only room in his mind for one thought.</p>
+
+<p>The intruder had called him Forrester.</p>
+
+<p>Where had he gotten the name?</p>
+
+<p>And, for that matter, how had he seen the two of them
+in the darkness?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>While the questions were still spinning in Forrester's
+mind, Kathy threw herself forward between him and the
+stranger. "Ares!" she screamed. "You stupid, jealous
+idiot! Get some sense into that battle-scarred brain of
+yours! Are you completely crazy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now you listen to me&mdash;" the stranger began.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, nothing! If you want to pick a fight, do it
+with me&mdash;I can fight back! But if you lay a hand on
+Forrester, we'll never find another&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger reached out casually and clamped one
+huge paw over her mouth. "Shut up," he said, almost
+quietly. He glanced at Forrester and went on, in the
+same tone: "Don't give away everything you've got,
+chum."</p>
+
+<p>A second passed and then he took the hand away.
+Kathy said nothing at all for a moment, and then she
+nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," she said. "You're right. We shouldn't be
+losing our tempers just now. But I didn't start&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you?" the stranger said.</p>
+
+<p>Kathy shrugged. "Well, never mind it now." She
+turned to Forrester. "You know who we are now, don't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded very slowly. How else could the man
+have come through the cordon of Myrmidons and seen
+them in the darkness? How else would he have dared
+to face up to Dionysus&mdash;confident that he could beat him?
+And how else could all this argument have gone on without
+anyone hearing it?</p>
+
+<p>For that matter, why else would the argument have
+begun&mdash;unless the stranger and Kathy were&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," he said, as if he had known it all along. "You're
+Mars and Venus."</p>
+
+<p>He could feel cold death approaching.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">William Forrester sat, quite alone, in the room which
+had been given him on Mount Olympus. He stared
+out of the window, a little smaller than the window in
+Venus' rooms, at the Grecian plain far below, without
+actually seeing. There was no vertigo this time; small
+matters like that couldn't bother him.</p>
+
+<p>The whole room was rather a small one, as Gods'
+rooms went, but it had the same varicolored shifting
+walls, the same furniture that appeared when you approached
+it. Forrester was beginning to get used to it
+now, and he didn't know if it was going to do him any
+good.</p>
+
+<p>He peered down, trying to discern the patrolling Myrmidons
+around the base and lower slopes of the mountain,
+placed there to discourage overeager climbers from trying
+to reach the home of the Gods. Of course he couldn't
+see them, and after a while he lost interest again. Matters
+were too serious to allow time for that kind of game.</p>
+
+<p>The Autumn Bacchanal was over, a thing of the past,
+on the way to the distortion of legend. Forrester's greatest
+triumph had ended&mdash;in his greatest fiasco.</p>
+
+<p>He closed his eyes as he sat in his room, the fluctuating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+colors on the walls going unappreciated. He had nothing
+to do now except wait for the final judgment of the
+Gods.</p>
+
+<p>At first he had been terrified. But terror could only last
+so long, and, as the time ticked by, the idea of that
+coming judgment had almost stopped troubling his mind.
+Either he had passed the tests or he hadn't. There was
+no point in worrying about the inevitable. He felt anesthetized,
+numb to any sensation of personal danger. There
+was nothing whatever he could do. The Gods had him;
+very well, let the Gods worry about what to do with him.</p>
+
+<p>Freed, his mind turned over and over a problem that
+seemed new to him at first. Gradually, he realized it
+wasn't new at all; it had been somewhere in the back
+of his thoughts from the very first, when Venus had told
+him that he had been chosen as a double for Dionysus, so
+many months ago. It seemed like years to Forrester, and
+yet, at the same time, like no more than hours. So much
+had happened, and so much had changed....</p>
+
+<p>But the question had remained, waiting until he could
+look at it and work with it. Now he could face that strange
+doubt in his mind, the doubt that had colored everything
+since his introduction to the Gods, that had grown
+as his training in demi-Godhood had progressed, and
+that was now, for the first time, coming to full consciousness.
+Every time it had come near the surface, before this
+day, he had expelled it from his mind, forcefully getting
+rid of it without realizing fully that he was doing so.</p>
+
+<p>And perhaps, he thought, the doubt had begun even
+earlier than that. Perhaps he had always doubted, and
+never allowed himself to think about the doubt. The
+floor of his mind seemed to open and he was falling,
+falling....</p>
+
+<p>But where the doubt had begun was unimportant now.
+It was present, it had grown; that was all that mattered.
+He could find facts to feed the doubt and strengthen it,
+and he looked at the facts one by one:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>First there was the angry conversation between Mars
+and Venus, on the night of the Bacchanal.</p>
+
+<p>He could still hear what Mars had said:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>... worse than your predecessor.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>And then he'd shut Venus up before she gave away
+too much&mdash;realizing, maybe, that he had given away a
+good deal himself. That one little sentence was enough
+to bring everything into question, Forrester thought.</p>
+
+<p>He had wondered why it had been necessary to have a
+double for Dionysus, but he hadn't actually thought about
+it; maybe he hadn't wanted to think about it. But now,
+with the notion of a "predecessor" for Venus in his mind,
+he <i>had</i> to think about it, and the only conclusion he
+could come to was a disturbing one. It did more than
+disturb him, as a matter of fact&mdash;it frightened him. He
+wanted desperately to find some flaw in the conclusion
+he faced, because he feared it even more than he feared
+the coming judgment of the Pantheon.</p>
+
+<p>But there wasn't any flaw. The facts meshed together
+entirely too well to be an accidental pattern.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, he thought, why had he been picked
+for the job? He was a nobody, of no importance, with
+no special gifts. Why did he deserve the honor of
+taking his place beside Hercules and Achilles and Odysseus
+and the other great heroes? Forrester knew he
+wasn't any hero. But what gave him his standing?</p>
+
+<p>And, he went on, there was a second place. In the
+months of his training he had met fourteen of the Gods&mdash;all
+of them, except for Dionysus. Now, what kind of
+sense did that make? Anyone who's going to have a
+double usually trains the double himself, if it's at all
+possible. Or, at the very least, he allows the double to
+watch his actions, so that the double can do a really
+competent job of imitation.</p>
+
+<p>And if an imitation is all that's needed, why not hire
+an actor instead of a history professor?</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan had told him: "You were picked not merely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+for your physical resemblance to Dionysus, but your
+psychological resemblance as well."</p>
+
+<p>That had to be true, if only because, as far as Forrester
+could see, nobody had the slightest reason to lie about
+it. But why should it be true? What advantage did
+the Gods get out of that "psychological resemblance"?
+All he was supposed to be was a double&mdash;and anybody
+who <i>looked</i> like Dionysus would be accepted <i>as</i> Dionysus
+by the people. The "psychological resemblance" didn't
+have a single thing to do with it.</p>
+
+<p>Mars, Venus, Vulcan&mdash;even Zeus had dropped clues.
+Zeus had referred to him as a "substitute for Dionysus."</p>
+
+<p>A substitute, he realized with a kind of horror, was not
+at all the same thing as a double.</p>
+
+<p>The answer was perfectly clear, but there were even
+more facts to bolster it. Why had he been tested, for
+instance, <i>after</i> he had been made a demi-God? In spite
+of what Vulcan had said, was he slated for further honors
+if he passed the new tests? He was sure that Vulcan had
+been telling the truth as far as he'd gone&mdash;but it hadn't
+been the whole truth. Forrester was certain of that now.</p>
+
+<p>And what was it that Venus had said during that
+argument with Mars? Something about not killing Forrester,
+because then they would have to "get another&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Another <i>what</i>?</p>
+
+<p>Another <i>substitute</i>?</p>
+
+<p>No, there was no escape from the simple and obvious
+conclusion. Dionysus was either missing, which was bad
+enough, or something much worse.</p>
+
+<p>He was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester shivered. The idea of an immortal God dying
+was, in one way, as horrible a notion as he could imagine.
+But in another way, it seemed to make a good deal of
+sense. As far as plain William Forrester had been concerned,
+the contradiction in the notion of a dead immortal
+would have made it ridiculous to start with. But the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+demi-God Dionysus had a somewhat different slant on
+things.</p>
+
+<p>After all, as Vulcan had told him, a demi-God could
+die. And if that was true, then why couldn't a God die
+too? Perhaps it would take quite a lot to kill a God&mdash;but
+the difference would be one of degree, not of kind.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed wholly logical. And it led, Forrester saw, to
+a new conclusion, one that required a little less effort to
+face than he thought it would. It should have shaken
+the foundations of his childhood and left him dizzy, but
+somehow it didn't. How long, he asked himself, had
+he been secretly doubting the fact that the Gods were
+Gods?</p>
+
+<p>At least in the sense they pretended to be, the "Gods"
+were not gods at all. They were&mdash;something else.</p>
+
+<p>But what? Where did they come from?</p>
+
+<p>Were they actually the Gods of ancient Greece, as they
+claimed? Forrester wanted to throw that claim out with
+the rest, but when he thought things over he didn't see
+why he should. To an almost indestructible being, three
+thousand years may only be a long time.</p>
+
+<p>So the Gods actually were "Gods," at least as far as
+longevity went. But the decision didn't get him very far;
+there were still a lot of questions unanswered, and no
+way that he could see of answering them.</p>
+
+<p>Or, rather, there was one way, but it was hellishly
+dangerous. He had no business even thinking about. He
+was in enough hot water already.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless....</p>
+
+<p>What more harm could he do to his chances? After
+the Bacchanal fiasco, there was probably a sentence of
+death hanging over his head anyhow. And they couldn't
+do any more to him than kill him.</p>
+
+<p>It was ridiculous, he told himself, with a return of
+caution and sanity. But the notion came back, nagging at
+his mind, and at last it took a new form.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Gods had the rest of the information he needed.
+He had to go to one of them&mdash;but which one?</p>
+
+<p>His first thought was Venus. But, after a moment of
+thought, he ruled her regretfully out as a possibility.
+After all, there was Mars' mention of her "predecessor."
+If that meant anything, it meant that the current Venus
+wasn't the original one. She would have a lot less information
+than one of the original Gods.</p>
+
+<p><i>If there were any originals left....</i></p>
+
+<p>He tabled that thought hurriedly and went on. Vulcan
+had told him at least a part of the truth, and Vulcan
+looked like a good bet. Forrester didn't like the idea of
+bearding the artisan in his workshop; it made him feel
+uncomfortable, and after a while he put his finger on
+the reason. His little liaison with Venus made him feel
+guilty. There was, he knew, no real reason for it. In the
+first place, he hadn't known the girl was Venus, and in
+the second place she may not have been the same one
+who had been Vulcan's original wife, thirty and more
+centuries ago.</p>
+
+<p>But the guilt remained, and he tabled Vulcan for the
+time being and went on.</p>
+
+<p>Morpheus, Hera, and most of the others he passed by
+without a glance; there was no reason for them to dislike
+him, but there was no reason for comradeship, either.
+Mars popped into his mind, and popped right out again.
+That would be putting his head in the lion's mouth with
+a vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>No, there was only one left, the obvious choice, the
+one who had helped him throughout his training period&mdash;Diana.
+She genuinely seemed to like him. She was
+also a good kid. The thought alone was almost enough
+to make him smile fondly, and would have if he had
+not remembered the peril he was in.</p>
+
+<p>He turned away from the window to look at the color-swirled
+wall across the room. He had remained in his
+room ever since Mars and Venus had brought him back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+from New York, and he wasn't at all sure that he could
+leave it. In the normal sense of the word, the place had
+neither exits nor entrances. The only way of getting in or
+out of the place was via the Veils of Heaven&mdash;matter
+transmitters, not something supernatural, he realized now.</p>
+
+<p>As far as Forrester knew, they still worked. But the
+Gods could generate a Veil anywhere, at any time. Forrester,
+as a demi-God, could only will one into existence
+on sufferance; he could only work the matter-transmitting
+Veils if the Gods permitted him to do so. If they didn't,
+he was trapped.</p>
+
+<p>Well, he told himself, there was one way to find out.</p>
+
+<p>He walked over to the wall and stood a few feet away
+from it, concentrating in the way he had been taught. He
+was still slower at it than the Gods themselves, and
+hadn't developed the knack of forming a Veil as he
+walked toward the place where he wanted it to be, as
+they had.</p>
+
+<p>But he knew he could do it&mdash;if he was still allowed to.</p>
+
+<p>Minutes went by.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as the blue sheet of neural energy flickered into
+being, Forrester slumped in sudden relief. He took a
+deep breath and closed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The Veil was there&mdash;but was it what he hoped, or a
+trick? Possibly he could focus the other terminal where
+he wanted it, but there was also the chance that the Gods
+had set the thing up so that, when he stepped through,
+he would be standing in the Court of the Gods facing a
+tribunal for which he was totally unprepared.</p>
+
+<p>It would be just like the Pantheon, he thought, to pull
+a lousy trick like that.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no point in dithering. If death was to be
+his fate, that would be that. He could do nothing at all
+by sitting in his room and waiting for them to come and
+get him.</p>
+
+<p>He focused the exit terminal in Diana's apartment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+There was no way of knowing whether the focus worked
+or not until he stepped through.</p>
+
+<p>He opened his eyes and walked into the Veil.</p>
+
+<p>He felt almost disappointed when he looked around
+him. He had steeled himself to do great battle with the
+Gods&mdash;and, instead, he was where he had wanted to be,
+in Diana's apartment.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing with her back to him, and Forrester
+didn't make a sound, not wanting to startle the Goddess.
+She was totally unclad, her glorious body shining in the
+light of the room, her blue-black hair unbound and falling
+halfway down her gently curved back. But she must have
+heard him somehow, for she turned, and for half a second
+she stood facing him.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester did not move. He couldn't even breathe.</p>
+
+<p>Every magnificent curve was highlighted in a frozen
+tableau.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a sudden flash of white, and she was
+clad in a clinging <i>chiton</i> which, Forrester saw, served
+only to remind one of what one had recently seen. It
+worked very well, although Forrester did not think he
+had any need for an aid to his memory.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness!" Diana said. "You shouldn't surprise a
+girl like that! I mean, you really gave me a shock, kid!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took his first breath. "Well," he said, "I could
+be dishonest, not to mention ungallant, and tell you I
+was sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"But?" Diana said.</p>
+
+<p>"Being of sound mind and sound body, I'm a long way
+from being sorry."</p>
+
+<p>And Diana dropped her eyes and blushed.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester could barely believe it.</p>
+
+<p>But it did show a part of the Goddess's personality that
+was entirely new to him. He was sure that any of the
+Gods or Goddesses could sense when a Veil of Heaven
+was forming near them, and get prepared before it was
+well enough developed to allow for passage. But Diana&mdash;who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+was, after all, one of the traditionally virgin Goddesses,
+like Pallas Athena&mdash;had chosen to pretend surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester had a further hunch, too. He thought she
+might have deliberately vanished her <i>chiton</i> only a second
+or so before he entered. And that put a different&mdash;and a
+very interesting&mdash;face on things.</p>
+
+<p>Not to mention, he thought, an entire figure.</p>
+
+<p>But he didn't say anything. That wasn't his main
+business in Diana's apartment. Instead, he watched her
+smile briskly and say: "Well, you're here, anyhow, kid,
+and I guess that's enough for me. Want a drink? I could
+whip up some nectar&mdash;and maybe an ambrosia sandwich?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take the drink," Forrester said. "I'm not really
+hungry, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>Diana held out her hands, fingers curved inward, and
+a crystal cup of clear, golden liquid appeared in each&mdash;matter
+transmission, of course, not magic. She handed
+one over to Forrester, who took it and looked the
+Goddess straight in the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," he said. "Diana, I've got some questions to
+ask you, and I hope I'll get the answers."</p>
+
+<p>She touched the rim of her cup to his. Her voice was
+very soft, but she didn't hesitate in the least. "I'll answer
+any questions I have to. Sit down."</p>
+
+<p>They found chairs along the walls of the room and sat
+facing one another. Forrester took a sip of his drink,
+settled back, and tried to think where to begin. Well,
+God or no God, Zeus had the key to that one. He had
+said it years ago, and it had passed almost into legend:</p>
+
+<p>"Begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end,
+and then stop."</p>
+
+<p>Very well, Forrester thought. He cleared his throat.
+Diana looked at him inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how far into the noose I'm putting my
+head with this one, Diana," he said. "But I trust you&mdash;and
+I've got to ask somebody."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Go ahead," she said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"First question. The original Dionysus is dead,
+isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>She paused for a moment before answering. "Yes,
+he is."</p>
+
+<p>"And I was scheduled to take his place."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right."</p>
+
+<p>"As a full God," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>Diana nodded.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Diana," Forrester said, "what are the Gods?"</p>
+
+<p>She got up and crossed to the window. Looking out,
+she said: "Before I answer that, I want you to tell me
+what you think we are."</p>
+
+<p>"Men and women," he said. "More or less human, like
+myself. Except you've somehow managed to get so far
+ahead of any kind of science Earth knows that, even
+today, your effects can only be explained as 'magic' or
+'miracle.'"</p>
+
+<p>"How could we get that far ahead of you?"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took a leap in the dark to the only conclusion
+he could see. "You're not from Earth," he said. "You're
+from another planet." The words sounded strange in his
+own ears&mdash;but Diana didn't even act surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," she said. "We're from another planet&mdash;or,
+rather, from several other planets."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Several?</i>" Forrester exclaimed. "But&mdash;oh. I see. Pan,
+for instance&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Diana nodded. "Pan isn't even really humanoid. His
+home is a planet where his type of goatlike life evolved.
+Neither Pluto nor Neptune is humanoid, either; they're a
+little closer than Pan, but not really very close when you
+get a good look. The rest of the Gods are humanoid&mdash;but
+not human."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute," Forrester said. "Venus is human. Or,
+anyhow, she's a replacement, just the way I was slated to
+be a replacement for Dionysus."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Diana drained her cup and clapped her hands together
+on it. The cup vanished. Forrester did the same to his
+own. "Correct," she said. "Venus just&mdash;just disappeared
+once. They got an Etruscan girl to replace her. She's not
+the only replacement, either."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester stared. "Who else?"</p>
+
+<p>"You tell me."</p>
+
+<p>He thought the list of Gods over. "Zeus," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Diana smiled. "Yes, Zeus is a long way from the great
+hero of the legends, isn't he? Using the old calendar,
+Zeus died in about 1100 <span class="smcap">b.c.</span>, not too long after the close
+of the Trojan War. As far as anybody knows, Neptune
+did the actual killing, but it's pretty clear that the original
+idea wasn't his."</p>
+
+<p>"Hera's," Forrester guessed.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," Diana said. "What she wanted was a
+figurehead she could control&mdash;and that's what she got.
+Though I'm not sure she's entirely happy with the
+change. If the original Zeus was a little harder to control,
+at least he seems to have had an original thought now
+and again."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sat quietly for a time, waiting for the shock
+to pass. "What about Dionysus?"</p>
+
+<p>Diana shrugged. "He&mdash;well, as far as anybody's ever
+been able to tell, it was suicide. About three years ago,
+and it drove Hera pretty wild, trying to find a substitute
+in a hurry. I suspect he was bored with the wine, women
+and song. He'd had a long time of it. And, too, he'd had
+some little disagreements with Hera. As you may have
+gathered, she is not exactly a safe person to have as an
+enemy. He probably figured she'd get him sooner or later,
+so he might as well save her the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"And Hera had to rush to get a replacement? Why
+couldn't there just have been some sort of explanation,
+while the rest of you ran things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the rest of us couldn't run things. Not for
+long, anyhow. It's all a question of power."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Power?" Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything we have," Diana said, "is derived, directly
+or indirectly, from the workings of one machine. Though
+'machine' is a long way from the right word for it&mdash;it
+bears about as much resemblance to what you think of as
+a machine as a television set does to a window. There
+just isn't a word for it in any language you know."</p>
+
+<p>"And all the Gods have to work the machine at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something like that." Diana came back from the
+window and sat down facing him again. "It operates
+through the nervous systems of the beings in circuit with
+it, each one of them in contact with one of the power
+nodes of the machine. And if one of the nodes is unoccupied,
+then the machine's out of balance. It will run for
+a while, but eventually it will simply wreck itself. Every
+one of the fifteen nodes has to be occupied. Otherwise&mdash;chaos."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. "So when Dionysus died&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We had to find a replacement in a hurry. The machine's
+been running out of balance for about as long as
+it can stand right now."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester closed his eyes. "I'm not sure I get the picture."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, look at it this way: suppose you have a wheel."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," Forrester said obligingly. "I have a wheel."</p>
+
+<p>"And this wheel has fifteen weights on it. They're
+spaced equally around the rim, and the wheel's revolving
+at high speed."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester kept his eyes closed. When he had the wheel
+nicely spinning, he said: "Okay. Now what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Diana said, "as long as the weights stay in
+place, the wheel spins evenly. But if you remove one of
+the weights, the wheel's out of balance. It starts to
+wobble."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester took one of the weights (Dionysus, a rather
+large, jolly weight) off the wheel in his mind. It wobbled.
+"Right," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It can take the wobble for a little while. But unless
+the balance is restored in time, the wheel will eventually
+break."</p>
+
+<p>Hurriedly, Forrester put Dionysus back on the wheel.
+The wobble stopped. "Oh," he said. "I see."</p>
+
+<p>"Our power machine works in that sort of way. That
+is, it requires all fifteen occupants. Dionysus has been
+dead for three years now, and that's about the outside
+limit. Unless he's replaced soon, the machine will be
+ruined."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester opened his eyes. The wheel spun away and
+disappeared. "So you found me to replace Dionysus. I
+had to look like him, so the mortals wouldn't see any
+difference. And the psychological similarity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," Diana said. "It's the same as the wheel
+again. If you remove a weight, you've got to put back
+a weight of the same magnitude. Otherwise, the wheel's
+still out of balance."</p>
+
+<p>"And since the power machine works through the
+nervous system&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The governing factor is that similarity. You've got to
+be of the same magnitude as Dionysus. Of course, you
+don't have to be an <i>identical</i> copy. The machine can be
+adjusted for <i>slight</i> differences."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," Forrester said. "And the fifteen power nodes&mdash;"
+Another idea occurred to him. "Wait a minute. If there
+are only fifteen power nodes, then how come there were
+so many different Gods and Goddesses among the
+Greeks? There were a lot more than fifteen back then."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there were," Diana said, "but they weren't
+real Gods. As a matter of fact, some of them didn't really
+exist."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester frowned. "How's that again?"</p>
+
+<p>"They were just disguises for one of the regular fifteen.
+Aesculapius, for instance, the old God of medicine, was
+Hermes/Mercury in disguise&mdash;he took the name in honor
+of a physician of the time. He would have raised the man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+to demi-Godhood, but Aesculapius died unexpectedly,
+and we thought taking his 'spirit' into the Pantheon was
+good public relations."</p>
+
+<p>"How about the others?" Forrester said. "They weren't
+all disguises, were they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. Some of them were demi-Gods, just
+like yourself. Their power was derived, like yours, from
+the Pantheon instead of directly through the machine.
+And then there were the satyrs and centaurs, and suchlike
+beings. That was public relations, too&mdash;mainly Zeus'
+idea, I understand. The original Zeus, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>"The satyrs and such were artificial life-forms, created,
+maintained and controlled by the machine itself. It's
+equipped with what you might call a cybernetic brain&mdash;although
+that's pretty inadequate as a description. Vulcan
+could do a better job of explaining."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly all right. I don't understand that kind of
+thing anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, in that case, let me put it this way. The machine
+controlled these artificial forms, but they could be taken
+over by any one of the Gods or demi-Gods for special
+purposes. As I say, it was public relations&mdash;and a good
+way to keep the populace impressed&mdash;and under control."</p>
+
+<p>"The creatures aren't around nowadays," Forrester
+pointed out.</p>
+
+<p>"Nowadays we don't need them," Diana said. "There
+are other methods&mdash;better public relations, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester didn't know he was going to ask his next
+question until he heard himself doing so. But it was the
+question he really wanted to ask; he knew that as soon
+as he knew he asked it.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Diana looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Why?
+What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why go on being Gods? Why dominate humanity?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I could answer your question with another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+question&mdash;why not? But I won't. Instead, let me remind
+you of some things. Look what we've done during the last
+century. The great wars that wrecked Europe&mdash;you don't
+see any possibility of more of those, do you? And the
+threat of atomic war is gone, too, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yes," Forrester said, "but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But we still have wars," Diana said. "Sure we do. The
+male animal just wouldn't be happy if he didn't have a
+chance to go out and get himself blown to bits once in a
+while. Don't ask <i>me</i> to explain that&mdash;I'm not a male."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester agreed silently. Diana was not a male. It was
+the most understated statement he had ever heard.</p>
+
+<p>"But anyhow," Diana said, "they want wars, so they
+have wars. Mars sees that the wars stay small and keep
+within the Martian Conventions, though, so any really
+widespread damage or destruction, or any wanton attacks
+on civilians, are a thing of the past. And it's not only
+wars, kid. It's everything."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, everything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Man needs a god, a personal god. When he doesn't
+have one ready to hand, he makes one up&mdash;and look at
+the havoc that has caused. A god of vengeance, a god
+who cheers you on to kill your enemies.... You've studied
+history. Tell me about the gods of various nations. Tell
+me about Thor and Baal and the original bloodthirsty
+Yahweh. People <i>need</i> gods."</p>
+
+<p>"Now wait a minute," Forrester objected. "The Chinese&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sure," Diana said. "There are exceptions. But you
+can't bank on the exceptions. If you want a reasonably
+safe, sane and happy humanity, then you'd better make
+sure your gods are not going to start screaming for war
+against the neighbors or against the infidels or against&mdash;well,
+against anybody and everybody. There's only one
+way to make sure, kid. We've found that way. We <i>are</i>
+the Gods."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester digested that one slowly. "It sounds great,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+but it's pretty altruistic. And while I don't want to impugn
+anybody's motives, it does seem to me that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That we ought to be getting something out of it
+ourselves, above and beyond the pure joy of helping
+humanity. Sure. You're perfectly right. And we <i>do</i> get
+something out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Like what?"</p>
+
+<p>Diana grinned. She looked more like a tomboy than
+ever before. "Fun," she said. "And you know it. Don't
+tell me you didn't get a kick out of playing God at the
+Bacchanal."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester confessed, "yes." He sighed. "And I
+guess that Bacchanal is going to be the one really high
+spot in a very shortened sort of life."</p>
+
+<p>Diana sat upright. "What are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"What else would I be talking about? The Bacchanal.
+You know what happened. You must know&mdash;everybody
+must by now. Mars is probably demanding my head from
+Hera right now. Unless he's got more complicated ideas
+like taking me apart limb by limb. I remember he
+mentioned that."</p>
+
+<p>Diana stood up and came over to Forrester. "Why
+would Mars do something like that and especially now?
+And what makes you think Hera would go along with him
+if he did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Now that I've failed my tests&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Failed?</i>" Diana cried. "You <i>haven't</i> failed!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester stood up shakily. "Of course I have. After
+what happened at the Bacchanal, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't pay any attention to that," Diana said. "Mars is
+a louse. Always has been, I hear. Nobody likes him. As
+a matter of fact, you've just passed your finals. The last
+test was to see if you could figure out who we were&mdash;and
+you've done that, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a long, taut silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then Diana laughed. "Your face looks the way mine
+must have, over three thousand years ago!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?" Still dazed, he wasn't
+quite sure he had heard her rightly.</p>
+
+<p>"When they told me the same thing. After the original
+Diana was killed in a 'hunting accident'&mdash;frankly, she
+seems to have been too independent to suit Hera&mdash;and
+I passed my own finals, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't look at me like that," Diana said. "And pull
+yourself together, because we've got to get to the Final
+Investiture. But it's all true. I'm a substitute too."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">The Great God Dionysus, Lord of the Vine, Ruler of
+the Revels, Master of the Planting and the Harvest,
+Bestower of the Golden Touch, Overseer of the Poor,
+Comforter of the Worker and Patron of the Drunkard,
+sat silently in a cheap bar on Lower Third Avenue, New
+York, slowly imbibing his seventh brandy-and-soda. It
+tasted anything but satisfactory as it went down; he
+preferred vodka or even gin, but after all, he asked
+himself, if a God couldn't be loyal to his own products,
+then who could?</p>
+
+<p>He was dressed in an inexpensive brown suit, and his
+face did not look like that of Dionysus, or even of William
+Forrester. Though neatly turned out, he looked a little
+like an out-of-work bookkeeper. But it was obvious that
+he hadn't been out of work for very long.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hell of a note</i>, he thought, <i>when a God has to skulk in
+some cheap bar just because some other God has it in
+for him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But that, unfortunately, was the way Mars was. It
+didn't matter to him that none of what happened had
+been Forrester's fault. In the first place, Forrester hadn't
+known that the girl at the Bacchanal had been Venus
+until it was much too late for apologies. In the second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+place, he hadn't even picked her; he'd kept his promise
+not to use his powers on the spinning figure of Mr. Bottle
+Symes. But Venus had made no such promise. Venus had
+rigged the game.</p>
+
+<p>But try explaining that to Mars.</p>
+
+<p>He didn't seem to mind what went on at the Revels of
+Aphrodite&mdash;being Goddess of Love was her line of work,
+and even Mars appeared to recognize that much. But he
+didn't like the idea of any extracurricular work, especially
+with other Gods. And if anything occurred, he, Mars,
+was sure damned well going to find out about it and see
+that something was done about it, yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester finished his drink and stared at the empty
+glass. It had all begun on the day of his Final Investiture,
+and he had gone through every event in memory, over
+and over. Why, he didn't know. But it was something to
+do while he hid.</p>
+
+<p>It hadn't been anywhere near as simple as the Investiture
+he had gone through to become a demi-God.
+All fourteen of the other Gods had been there this time;
+a simple quorum wasn't enough. Pluto, with his dead-black,
+light-absorbent skin casting a shade of gloom
+about him, had slouched into the Court of the Gods,
+looking at everybody and everything with lackluster eyes.
+Poseidon/Neptune had come in more briskly, smelling of
+fish, his skin pale green and glistening wet, his fingers
+and toes webbed and his eyes bulging and wide. Phoebus
+Apollo had strolled in, looking authentically like a Greek
+God, face and figure unbelievably perfect, and a pleased,
+stupid smile spread all over his countenance. Hermes/Mercury,
+slim and wily, with a foxy face and quick
+movements, had slipped in silently. And all the others
+had been there, too. Mars looked grim, but when Forrester
+was formally proposed for Godhood, Mars made
+no objection.</p>
+
+<p>The entire Pantheon had then gone single-file through
+a Veil of Heaven to a room Forrester just couldn't remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+fully. At the time, his eyes simply refused to
+make sense out of the place. Now, of course, he understood
+why: it didn't really exist in the space-time
+framework he was used to. Instead, it was partially a
+four-dimensional pseudo-manifold superimposed on normal
+space. If not perfectly simple, at least the explanation
+made matters rational rather than supernatural. But, at
+the time, everything seemed to take place in a chaotic
+dream world where infinite distance and the space next
+to him seemed one and the same. He knew then why
+Diana had told him that the word "machine" could not
+describe the Gods' power source.</p>
+
+<p>He had been seated there in the dream room. But it
+wasn't exactly sitting; every spatial configuration took on
+strange properties in that pseudo-space, and he seemed
+to float in a place that had neither dimension nor direction.
+The other Gods had all seemed to be sitting in front
+of him, all together and all at once&mdash;yet, at the same time,
+each had been separate and distinct from the others.</p>
+
+<p>He wanted to close his eyes, but he had been warned
+against doing that. Grimly, he kept them open.</p>
+
+<p>And then the indescribable began to happen. It was as
+though every nerve in his body had been indissolubly
+linked to the great source of God-power. It was pure,
+hellish torture, and at the same time it was the most
+exquisite pleasure he had ever known. He could not
+imagine how long it went on&mdash;but, eventually, it ended.</p>
+
+<p>He was Dionysus/Bacchus.</p>
+
+<p>And then it had been over, and a banquet had been
+held in his honor, a celebration for the new God. Everyone
+seemed to enjoy the occasion, and Forrester himself had
+been feeling pretty good until Mars, smiling a smile that
+only touched his lips and left his eyes as cold and hard
+as anything Forrester had ever seen, had come up to him
+and said softly:</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Dionysus. You're a God now. I didn't touch
+you before because we needed you. And I don't intend to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+kill you now; replacements are too hard to find. I'm only
+going to beat you&mdash;to within an inch of your damned
+immortal life. Just remember that, buster."</p>
+
+<p>And then, the smile still set on his face, he had turned
+and swaggered away.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester had thought of Vulcan.</p>
+
+<p>Mars wasn't a killer, in spite of his bully-boy tactics.
+He had too good a military mind to discipline a valuable
+man to death. But he was more than willing to go as
+near to that point as possible, if he thought it justified.
+And what he allowed as justification resided in a code
+all his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Right" was what was good for Mars. "Wrong" was
+what disturbed him. That was the code, as simple, as
+black and white, as you could ask for. Vulcan was one of
+the results.</p>
+
+<p>Vulcan had been Venus' lawful husband, as far as the
+laws of the Gods went. That didn't matter to Mars&mdash;when
+he wanted Venus. He had thrashed Vulcan, and
+the beating had left permanent damage.</p>
+
+<p>The damage was translated into Vulcan's limp. Any
+God's ability to heal himself through the machine's power
+was dependent on the God's own mentality and outlook.
+And Vulcan had never been able to cure his limp; the
+psychic punishment had been too great.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester ordered another drink and tried to think
+about something else. The prospect of a fight with Mars
+was sometimes a little too much for him to handle.</p>
+
+<p>The drink arrived and he sipped at it vacantly, thinking
+back to Diana and her story of the Gods.</p>
+
+<p>There was one hole in it&mdash;a hole big enough to toss
+Mount Olympus through, he realized. Where had the
+Gods gone for three thousand years? And how had they
+gotten to Earth in the first place?</p>
+
+<p>Those two unanswered questions were enough to convince
+Forrester that, in spite of all he knew, and in spite
+of the way his new viewpoint had turned his universe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+upside down in a matter of hours, he still didn't have the
+whole story. He had to find it&mdash;even more so, now, as he
+began to realize that the human race deserved more than
+just the "security" and "happiness" that the Gods could
+give them. It deserved independence, and the chance to
+make or mar its own future. Protection was all very well
+for the infancy of a race, but man was growing up now.
+Man needed to make his own world.</p>
+
+<p>The Gods had no place in that world, Forrester saw.
+He had to find the answers to all of his questions&mdash;and
+now he thought he knew a way to do it.</p>
+
+<p>"Want another, buddy?"</p>
+
+<p>The bartender's voice roused Forrester from his reverie.
+He had absent-mindedly finished brandy-and-soda number eight.</p>
+
+<p>"Okay," Forrester said. "Sure." He handed the bartender
+a ten-dollar bill and got a kind of wry pleasure
+out of seeing the picture of Dionysus on its face. "Let's
+have another, but more brandy and less soda this time."</p>
+
+<p>The drink was brought and he sipped at it, looking like
+any ordinary citizen taking on a small load, but tuned to
+every fluctuation in the energy levels around him,
+waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Only a God, he knew, could hurt another God, and even
+then it took plenty of power to do it. Actually to kill a God
+required the combined efforts of more than one, under
+normal circumstances&mdash;though one, properly equipped
+and with some luck, could manage it. As far as his
+own situation was concerned, Forrester was prepared for
+a deadly assault from Mars. Maybe Mars didn't intend to
+kill him, but being maimed for centuries, like Vulcan,
+was nothing to look forward to, and it was just as well
+to be on the safe side. Just in case the God of War had
+managed to get one or two other Gods on his side, Forrester
+had talked to Diana and Venus, and had their
+agreement to step in on his side if things got rough, or if
+Mars tried to pull anything underhanded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And any minute now....</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Forrester felt a disturbance in the energy
+flow around him. Somewhere behind him, invisible to
+the mortals who occupied the bar, a Veil of Heaven was
+beginning to form.</p>
+
+<p>With a fraction of a second, Forrester was forming his
+own. But this time he took a little longer than he had
+before.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn't the first time he'd had to run. For over a
+month now, he had been jumping from place to place,
+all over the world. He had gone to Hong Kong first.
+When Mars had traced him there and made a grab for
+him, Forrester had made a quick jump, via Veil, to
+Durban, South Africa. It had taken Mars all of forty-eight
+hours to find Forrester hiding in the native quarter,
+wearing the <i>persona</i> of a Negro laborer. But again Forrester
+had disappeared, this time reappearing in Lima,
+Peru.</p>
+
+<p>And so it had gone for five full weeks, with Forrester
+keeping barely one jump ahead of the God of War.</p>
+
+<p>And, in that month, he had achieved two important
+things.</p>
+
+<p>First, he had begun to make Mars a little overconfident.
+By now Mars was fully convinced that Forrester was
+nothing but a coward, and he was absolutely certain that
+he could beat the newcomer easily, if he could only come
+to grips with him.</p>
+
+<p>Second, Forrester had discovered that Mars' basic
+reflexes were a trifle slower than his own.</p>
+
+<p>If Mars had been able to form his own Veil and step
+through it in time to sense the last fading glimmers of
+Forrester's Veil, he would have been able to follow
+immediately. Instead, he had to go to all the trouble of
+finding Forrester over and over again. That meant slower
+reflexes&mdash;and that, Forrester thought, might just give him
+the edge he needed.</p>
+
+<p>But this time, Forrester was going to let Mars follow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+him&mdash;slow reflexes and all. This time, he waited that
+extra fraction of a second&mdash;and then stepped through the
+Veil.</p>
+
+<p>He was in the middle of a great rain forest. Around him
+towered trees whose great trunks reached up to a leafy
+sky. The place was dark; little sunlight came through the
+roof of leaves and curling vines. A bird screamed somewhere
+in the distance, sounding like a lost soul in agony;
+the sound was repeated, and then there was silence.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester was exactly where he had intended to be: in
+the middle of the Amazon jungle.</p>
+
+<p>He had time for one look around. Then Mars stepped
+out of a shimmering Veil only yards away from where
+Forrester was standing. Immediately, Forrester felt Mars
+throw out a suppressor field that would keep him from
+forming another Veil. He did the same thing. Now, as
+long as both held their respective fields, neither could
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>"Greetings," Forrester said.</p>
+
+<p>The bird screamed again. Mars ignored it.</p>
+
+<p>"You're just a little too slow," he said, grinning. "And
+now, buster, you're going to get it&mdash;and get it good."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" Forrester said. "Me?"</p>
+
+<p>Mars hissed his breath in and fired a blast of blue-white
+energy that would have drilled through a foot of
+armor plate. But Forrester blocked it; the splatter of free
+energy struck at the nearby trees, sending them crashing
+to the ground. A small blaze started.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester followed the blow with one of his own, but
+Mars parried quickly. A few more little fires began in the
+vicinity. Then Mars bellowed and charged.</p>
+
+<p>By the time he reached the spot where Forrester had
+been, Forrester was fifty feet in the air, standing with his
+arms folded and looking down in an interested manner.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to watch out," he said. "You might stumble
+into a Venus Flycatcher down there. I mean besides the
+one you've got already."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mars' mouth dropped open. He gave vent to an inarticulate
+roar of rage and leaped into the air. As he rose
+toward Forrester, the defender closed his eyes and
+changed shape. He became a rock and dropped. He
+bounced off Mars' rising forehead with a great noise.</p>
+
+<p>Mars roared and dived for the stone&mdash;and found himself
+holding a large, angry tiger.</p>
+
+<p>But an old trick like that didn't fool Mars. Tiger-Forrester,
+suddenly finding himself fighting with another
+tiger as ferocious as himself, began clawing and biting
+his way free in a frenzy of panic. He managed to make it
+just long enough to become a stone again, dropping
+toward the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment, the other tiger seemed uncertain. Then,
+catching sight of the falling stone, he became an eagle,
+and went after it with a scream, claws outstretched and
+a glitter of hatred in the slitted eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester reached the ground first. The eagle braked
+madly, trying to escape a giant Kodiak bear. Forrester
+stood on his hind legs and battered the air with great,
+murderous paws. Mars scooted upward, already changing
+into something capable of coping with the bear. A huge,
+bat-winged dragon, breathing barrels of smoke, flapped
+in the air, looking all around for its opponent. It did not
+notice Forrester scurrying away in the shape of an ant
+through the leaves and thick humus of the jungle floor.</p>
+
+<p>By now, the air was becoming smoky and the flames
+were licking up the sides of trees all through the vicinity,
+and racing along the giant vines that curled around them.
+The dragon belched more smoke, adding to the general
+confusion, and roared in a voice like thunder:</p>
+
+<p>"Coward! Dionysus! Come out and fight!"</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant of crackling silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then Forrester stepped out from behind a blazing tree.
+He, too, was a dragon.</p>
+
+<p>Mars snarled, breathed smoke and made a power dive.
+Forrester dodged and the fangs of the monster missed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+him by inches. Mars sank claw-deep into the ground, and
+Forrester slammed the War God on the side of his head
+with one mighty forepaw. Mars blew out a cloud of
+evil-smelling smoke and managed to jerk himself free.
+He leaped to all four feet, glaring at Forrester with great,
+bulging, hate-filled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Man to man, you bastard!" he said in a flame-filled
+roar.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester leaped back to avoid being scorched. He
+poured out some smoke of his own. Mars coughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn it, no more shape-changing!" the War God
+thundered.</p>
+
+<p>"Fair enough!" Forrester shouted. He changed back to
+his Dionysian form, circling warily until Mars had followed
+suit. Then the two began to close in slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Around them the forest burned, vegetation even on the
+swampy ground catching fire as the entire vicinity
+crackled and hissed with heat. Neither of them seemed
+to take any notice of the fact.</p>
+
+<p>Mars was a trained boxer and wrestler, Forrester knew.
+But it was probably a good many centuries since he'd
+had any real workouts, and Forrester was counting heavily
+on slowed-down reflexes. Those would give him a slight
+edge.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, he hoped so.</p>
+
+<p>The circling ceased as Mars leaped forward suddenly
+and lashed out with a right to the jaw that could end
+the fight. But Forrester moved his head aside just in
+time and the fist glanced off his cheek. He staggered
+back just as Mars followed with a left jab to the belly.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester clamped down on the War God's wrist and
+twisted violently, pulling Mars on past him. The War
+God, caught off balance, lunged forward, tripping over
+his own feet, and almost fell as he went by. Forrester,
+grinning savagely, brought his right hand down on the
+back of Mars' neck with a blow whose force would have
+killed an elephant outright.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mars, however, was no mere elephant. He grunted and
+went down on his hands and knees, shaking his head
+groggily. But he wasn't out. Not quite.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester doubled up his fist as Mars tried to rise, and
+came down again with all the force he could muster,
+squarely on his opponent's neck.</p>
+
+<p>There was a satisfyingly loud crack, audible, even in
+the roar of the burning forest. Mars collapsed to the
+ground, smothering small fires beneath his bulk. Forrester
+leaped on top of him and grabbed his head, beard with
+one hand and hair with the other. He twisted and the
+War God screamed in agony. Forrester relaxed the
+pressure.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, now," he said through clenched teeth.
+"Your neck's broken, and all I've got to do is twist enough
+to sever your spinal column. You'll be crippled for as
+long as Vulcan has&mdash;maybe longer."</p>
+
+<p>Mars shrieked again. "I yield! I yield!"</p>
+
+<p>Forrester held on. "Not just yet you don't," he said
+grimly. "I want some information, and I'm going to get
+it out of you if I have to wring them out vertebra by
+vertebra."</p>
+
+<p>Mars tried to buck. Forrester twisted again and the
+War God subsided, breathing hard. At last he muttered:
+"What do you want to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you and the other Gods leave Earth for
+three thousand years? And where did you come from in
+the first place? I want the <i>real</i> reason, chum." He applied
+a little pressure, just as a reminder.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you!" Mars screamed. "I'll tell you!"</p>
+
+<p>And as the roaring flames crackled in the Amazon
+forest, the agonized Mars began to talk.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">Zeus, Venus, Diana and Forrester sat in the Court of
+the Gods, listening to a large, blue-skinned individual
+with bright red eyes and two long white fangs coming
+from a lipless mouth. The eyes were like a cat's, with
+slitted pupils, and the general expression on the individual's
+face was one of feral hatred and bestial madness.
+However, as he had explained, he was not responsible
+for the arrangement of his features. He was, he kept
+saying, only interested in the general welfare. What
+was more, it was his business to be interested. He was, as
+a matter of fact, a cop: Bor Mellistos, of the Interstellar
+Police.</p>
+
+<p>"My rank," he had told them mildly, "is about the
+equivalent of your Detective Inspector."</p>
+
+<p>"Technically," he was saying now, "you are all four
+guilty of being accessories&mdash;as I understand your local law
+phrases it. However&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled. It made him look unbelievably horrible.
+Forrester tried not to pay any attention to it.</p>
+
+<p>"However," he went on, "in view of the fact that none
+of you could possibly have known that you were, in fact,
+accessories&mdash;that is, that you were dealing with a criminal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+group, if you understand me&mdash;plus the fact that Mr.
+Forrester, as soon as he did discover the facts, called us
+at once through the power machine&mdash;I feel that we can
+overlook your part in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>Venus frowned. "Wait a minute. I'm not sure I understand
+this at all. What crime are the Gods supposed to
+have committed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not crime, miss," Bor Mellistos said. His eyes twinkled.
+Forrester gulped and turned away. "Crimes. Misuse of a
+neural power machine, for one&mdash;and the domination and
+enslavement of a less advanced intelligent culture for
+another. Both those are very serious crimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Less advanced culture?" Forrester said. "You mean
+us?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid so, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "You see, all the
+members of my culture are attuned to the power nodes
+of one neural machine or another, but this power is not
+meant to be misused. We have been searching for this
+group for a long time now."</p>
+
+<p>"And you first got wind of them on Earth about three
+thousand years ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little more than that, actually," Bor Mellistos said,
+"if you don't mind the correction."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," Forrester said, looking at the fangs of the
+Detective Inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"We were alerted after the radiations had been coming
+in for some time. The search for this group wasn't nearly
+as urgent then."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's why they had to go into hiding?" Diana
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Correct, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "The only one we
+managed to catch was the woman calling herself Aphrodite,
+or Venus." He looked at the substitute Venus. "That's
+the one you replaced, miss."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you catch her?" Forrester pursued.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Bor Mellistos said, turning a faint shade of
+orange with embarrassment, "she was&mdash;ah&mdash;engaged in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+secret liaison with a mortal at the time. Knowing that two
+of the other gentlemen would be furious with her if they
+discovered this fact&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mars and Vulcan," Forrester supplied.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite correct, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "Knowing, as I
+say, that they would be furious, she had taken special
+pains to hide herself. When the alarm reached the others
+that we were coming, they could not warn her. As a
+result, when she returned to Mount Olympus, we were
+waiting for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Serves her right!" Zeus said with indignation.</p>
+
+<p>Bor Mellistos said: "Quite," very politely.</p>
+
+<p>"And then," Forrester said, "you patrolled this place for
+a while."</p>
+
+<p>Bor Mellistos nodded. "We left about three hundred
+years ago, finally deciding that they had gone elsewhere.
+By the way, do you know where they were hiding all this
+time?"</p>
+
+<p>"My guess," Diana said, "is that they were here on
+Earth, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "But where?"</p>
+
+<p>Zeus shrugged. "All sorts of places. I ran a tailor shop
+myself, pressing and cleaning. I understand that Poseidon
+and Pluto entered freak shows&mdash;they were fine attractions,
+too. Pan lived mostly in the forests, doing well enough
+for himself running wild. Diana and Athena ran a small
+hairdressing studio in Queens. And Venus&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please," Venus interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly honorable profession," Zeus objected. "One
+of the oldest. Perhaps the very oldest. And I don't see
+why&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please!" Venus insisted.</p>
+
+<p>Zeus shut up with a little sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate," Bor Mellistos said, "that's the story up
+to date. And now there's only the question of the Overseer
+positions. Would you like to fill them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" Venus asked. "<i>Us?</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well," Bor Mellistos said, "you have the experience.
+And we do need someone to take over. You see, three
+thousand years ago your technical attainments were not
+large. There was little need for an Overseer. Now, however,
+you are nearly at the stage where you will be invited
+to join the Galactic Federation. And we must make sure
+you do not do any irreparable harm to yourselves during
+the next few years."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Forrester said, "how could we&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll permit me, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "I can
+explain. You would work much as the so-called Gods did&mdash;but
+with no publicity, and a greater sense of responsibility,
+if you understand me. Earth would never know
+you were there."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have to&mdash;stay away from mortals?" Forrester asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," Bor Mellistos said.</p>
+
+<p>Well, Forrester thought, it had its compensations. In
+the three days that the Detective Inspector had been on
+Earth, Forrester had had time to think and to find out
+some things. Gerda, for instance, was getting married to
+Alvin Sherdlap. Forrester wondered what kind of love
+would let a woman choose a name like Gerda Sherdlap,
+and decided it was better not to think about it.</p>
+
+<p>What did he have to go back to? History classes? Students?
+Even students like Maya Wilson?</p>
+
+<p>Well, he was sure he could do better than that. He
+looked at Diana and became even surer.</p>
+
+<p>"The remaining eleven Overseers," Bor Mellistos was
+saying, "will be along shortly. You will then be able to
+draw fully on the machine. You need merely follow
+world events and make sure that any&mdash;ah&mdash;regrettably
+<i>final</i> decisions are not made. Your actions will, of course,
+be very much undercover."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester nodded. "This mass arrest of the Gods is
+going to cause an upheaval all by itself."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true, sir. But that will be worked out. I'm afraid
+I don't really know the details, but doubtless the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+eleven who are coming will inform you more thoroughly
+on that score."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester sighed. "About the Gods&mdash;what kind of
+punishment will they receive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "it varies. Vulcan, for
+instance&mdash;the person who called himself Vulcan, or
+Hephaestus&mdash;will probably get off with a lighter sentence
+than the others. He was a mechanic, brought along
+under some duress to service the machine. But the
+sentences will be severe, you may be sure. Very severe."</p>
+
+<p>Forrester didn't feel like asking any more questions
+about that. There was a pause. He looked at Diana again,
+and she looked back at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you accept?" Bor Mellistos said.</p>
+
+<p>Forrester and the others nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Bor Mellistos said: "Very well. In that case, I will
+inform the other eleven Overseers already picked that
+they will be met by you here, on Mount Olympus, and
+that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Forrester wasn't listening.</p>
+
+<p>He had begun whistling, very softly.</p>
+
+<p>The song he was whistling was Tenting Tonight.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 100%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by 
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,6449 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Pagan Passions
+
+Author: Gordon Randall Garrett
+        Laurence Mark Janifer
+
+Illustrator: Robert Stanley
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PASSIONS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Geoffrey Kidd, Stephen Blundell
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Cover Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+                             PAGAN PASSIONS
+
+                         Adult Science Fiction,
+              with the supernatural making complete sense.
+
+The Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece and Rome had returned to
+Earth--with all their awesome powers intact, and Earth was transformed
+almost overnight. War on any scale was outlawed, along with
+boom-and-bust economic cycles, and prudery--no change was more startling
+than the face of New York, where, for instance, the Empire State
+Building became the Tower of Zeus!
+
+In this totally altered world, William Forrester was an acolyte of
+Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, and therefore a teacher, in this case of a
+totally altered history--and Maya Wilson, girl student, evidently had a
+totally altered way of grading in mind--but what else would a worshipper
+of Venus, Goddess of Love, have in mind?
+
+This was just the first of the many Trials of Forrester, every bit as
+mighty and perilous as the Labors of Hercules. In love with Gerda Symes,
+like him a devotee of Athena, like him a frequenter of the great Temple
+of Pallas Athena (formerly known as the 42nd Street Library)--dedicated,
+in short, to the pleasures of the mind--Forrester was under the soft,
+compelling pressure of soft, compelling devotees of Venus, Bacchus and
+the like, and in need of all the strength that he and his Goddess, the
+beautiful and intellectual Athena, could muster to save him from the
+endless temptations of this new Earth.
+
+And into this sensuous strife strode Temple Myrmidons--religious cops
+sworn to obey orders without question or hesitation--with a pickup order
+for William Forrester.
+
+Where he was taken, what happened to him, the truly fantastic
+discoveries he made about himself and the Gods and Goddesses--here are
+the ingredients that make up this science fiction novel of suspense,
+intrigue, mystery and danger. For science fiction it is, with the
+supernatural making complete sense, and fun too, despite the Sword of
+Damocles hanging by a thread over Forrester's head!
+
+                         _by Randall Garrett and
+                             Larry M. Harris_
+
+
+
+
+ P
+ a
+ g
+ a
+ n
+
+  P
+  a
+  s
+  s
+  i
+  o
+  n
+  s
+
+
+
+
+ A GALAXY Selected Novel
+ For
+ BEACON BOOKS
+
+
+
+
+ P
+ a
+ g
+ a
+ n
+
+  P
+  a
+  s
+  s
+  i
+  o
+  n
+  s
+
+   _By
+   Randall Garrett
+   and
+   Larry M. Harris_
+
+   _Published by
+   Galaxy Publishing Corp.
+   New York 14, New York_
+
+
+
+
+ ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK ARE WHOLLY
+ FICTITIOUS AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO PERSONS
+ LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL
+
+ Copyright 1959 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.
+
+ _Galaxy Novels_ are sturdy, inexpensive editions of choice
+ works of imaginative suspense, both original and reprint,
+ selected by the editors of _Galaxy Magazine_ for Beacon Books.
+
+ THIS IS BEACON BOOK NO. 263
+
+ _Cover by Robert Stanley_
+
+ Printed in the U.S.A. by
+ THE GUINN COMPANY INC.
+ New York 14, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
+on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors
+have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+
+The girl came toward him across the silent room. She was young. She was
+beautiful. Her red hair curled like a flame round her eager,
+heart-shaped face. Her arms reached for him. Her hands touched him. Her
+eyes were alive with the light of pure love. I am yours, the eyes kept
+saying. Do with me as you will.
+
+Forrester watched the eyes with a kind of fascination.
+
+Now the girl's mouth opened, the lips parted slightly, and her husky
+voice murmured softly: "Take me. Take me."
+
+Forrester blinked and stepped back.
+
+"My God," he said. "This is ridiculous."
+
+The girl pressed herself against him. The sensation was, Forrester
+thought with a kind of awe, undeniably pleasant. He tried to remember
+the girl's name, and couldn't. She wriggled slightly and her arms went
+up around him. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck and her mouth
+moved, close to his ear.
+
+"Please," she whispered. "I want you...."
+
+Forrester felt his head swimming. He opened his mouth but nothing
+whatever came out. He shut his mouth and tried to think what to do with
+his hands. They were hanging foolishly at his sides. The girl came even
+closer, something Forrester would have thought impossible.
+
+Time stopped. Forrester swam in a pink haze of sensations. Only one
+small corner of his brain refused to lose itself in the magnificence of
+the moment. In that corner, Forrester felt feverishly uncomfortable. He
+tried again to remember the girl's name, and failed again. Of course,
+there was really no reason why he should have known the name. It was,
+after all, only the first day of class.
+
+"Please," he said valiantly. "Miss--"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"I'm Maya Wilson," the girl said in his ear. "I'm in your class, Mr.
+Forrester. Introductory World History." She bit his ear gently.
+Forrester jumped.
+
+None of the textbooks of propriety he had ever seen seemed to cover the
+situation he found himself in. What did one do when assaulted
+(pleasantly, to be sure, but assault was assault) by a lovely girl who
+happened to be one of your freshman students? She had called him Mr.
+Forrester. That was right and proper, even if it was a little silly. But
+what should he call her? Miss Wilson?
+
+That didn't sound right at all. But, for other reasons, Maya sounded
+even worse.
+
+The girl said: "Please," and added to the force of the word with another
+little wriggle against Forrester. It solved his problems. There was now
+only one thing to do, and he did it.
+
+He broke away, found himself on the other side of his desk, looking
+across at an eager, wet-lipped freshman student.
+
+"Well," he said. There was a lone little bead of sweat trickling down
+his forehead, across his frontal ridge and down one cheek. He ignored it
+bravely, trying to think what to do next. "Well," he repeated at last,
+in what he hoped was a gentle and fatherly tone. "Well, well, well,
+well, well." It didn't seem to have any effect. Perhaps, he thought, an
+attempt to put things back on the teacher-student level might have
+better results. "You wanted me to see you?" he said in a grave,
+scholarly tone. Then, gulping briefly, he amended it in a voice that had
+suddenly grown an octave: "You wanted to see me? I mean, you--"
+
+"Oh," Maya Wilson said. "Oh, my goodness, _yes_, Mr. Forrester!"
+
+She made a sudden sensuous motion that looked to Forrester as if she had
+suddenly abolished bones. But it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. Quite
+the contrary.
+
+Forrester licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "Well," he
+said. "What about, Miss--uh--Miss Wilson?"
+
+"Please call me Maya, Mr. Forrester. And I'll call you--" There was a
+second of hesitation. "Mr. Forrester," Maya said plaintively, "what is
+your first name?"
+
+"First name?" Forrester tried to think of his first name. "You want to
+know my first name?"
+
+"Well," Maya said, "I want to call you something. Because after all--"
+She looked as if she were going to leap over the desk.
+
+"You may call me," Forrester said, grasping at his sanity, "Mr.
+Forrester."
+
+Maya sidled around the desk quietly. "Mr. Forrester," she said, reaching
+for him, "I wanted to talk to you about the Introductory World History
+course."
+
+Forrester shivered as if someone had thrown cold water on his rising
+aspirations.
+
+"Oh," he said.
+
+"That's right," Maya whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear again.
+Other parts of her were close to other parts of him once more. Forrester
+found it difficult to concentrate.
+
+"I've _got_ to pass the course, Mr. Forrester," Maya whispered. "I've
+just _got_ to."
+
+Somehow, Forrester retained just enough control of his faculties to
+remember the standard answer to protestations like that one. "Well, I'm
+sure you will," he said in what he hoped was a calm, hearty, hopeful
+voice. He was reasonably sure it wasn't any of those, and even surer
+that it wasn't all three. "You seem like a--like a fairly intelligent
+young lady," he finished lamely.
+
+"Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure I won't be able to remember all those
+old-fashioned dates and things. Never. Never." Suddenly she pressed
+herself wildly against him, throwing him slightly off balance. Locked
+together, the couple reeled against the desk. Forrester felt it digging
+into the small of his back. "I'll do anything to pass the course, Mr.
+Forrester!" she vowed. "Anything!"
+
+The insistent pressure of the desk top robbed the moment of some of its
+natural splendor. Forrester disengaged himself gently and slid a little
+out of the way. "Now, now," he said, moving rapidly across the room
+toward a blank wall. "This sort of thing isn't usually done, Maya. I
+mean, Miss Wilson. I mean--"
+
+"But--"
+
+"People just don't do such things," Forrester said sternly. He thought
+of escaping through the door, but the picture that arose immediately in
+his mind dissuaded him. He saw Maya pursuing him passionately through
+the halls while admiring students and faculty stared after them.
+"Anyhow," he added as an afterthought, "not at the _beginning_ of the
+semester."
+
+"Oh," Maya said. She was advancing on him slowly. "You mean, I ought to
+see if I can pass the course on my own first, and _then_--"
+
+"Not at all," Forrester cut in.
+
+Maya sniffed sadly. "Oh, you just don't understand," she said. "You're
+an Athenian, aren't you?"
+
+"Athenan," Forrester said automatically. It was a correction he found
+himself called upon to make ten or twelve times a week. "An Athenian is
+a resident of Athens, while an Athenan is a worshipper of the Goddess
+Athena. We--"
+
+"I understand," Maya said. "I suppose it's like us. We don't like to be
+called Aphrodisiacs, you know. We prefer Venerans."
+
+She was leaning across the desk. Forrester, though he supposed some
+people might be fussy about it, could see no objection whatever to the
+term Aphrodisiacs. A wild thought dealing with Spheres of Influence
+strayed into his mind, and he suppressed it firmly.
+
+The girl was a Veneran. A worshipper of Venus, Goddess of Love.
+
+Her choice of religion, he thought, was unusually appropriate.
+
+And as for his....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+
+It was hard to believe that, only an hour or so before, he had been
+peaceful and calm, entirely occupied with his duties in the great Temple
+of Pallas Athena. His mind gave a sudden, panic-stricken leap and he was
+back there again, standing at the rear of the vast room and focusing all
+of his strained attention on it.
+
+The glowing embers in the golden incense tripods were dying now, but the
+heavy clouds of frankincense, still tingled with the sweet aroma of
+balsam and clove, hung heavily in the quiet air over the main altar. In
+the flickering illumination of the gas sconces around the walls, the
+figures on the great tapestries seemed to move with a subtle life of
+their own.
+
+Even though the great brazen gong had sounded for the last time twenty
+minutes before, marking the end of the service, there were still a few
+worshippers in the pews, seated with heads bowed in prayer to the
+Goddess. Forrester considered them carefully: average-looking people, a
+sprinkling of youngsters, and in the far corner a girl who looked just a
+little like ...
+
+Forrester peered more closely. It wasn't just a slight resemblance; the
+girl really seemed to be Gerda Symes. Her long blonde hair shone in the
+dimness. Forrester couldn't see her very clearly, but his imagination
+was working overtime. Her magnificently curved figure, her wonderful
+face, her fiery personality were as much a part of his dreams as the bed
+he slept on.
+
+If not for her brother ...
+
+Forrester sighed and forced himself to return his attention to his
+duties. His hands remained clasped reverently at his breast. Whatever
+battle went on in his mind, the remaining few people in the great room
+would see nothing but what was fitting. At any rate, he told himself, he
+made rather an imposing sight in his robes, and, with a stirring of
+vanity which he prayed Athena to chasten, he was rather proud of it.
+
+He was a fairly tall man, just a shade under six feet, but his slight
+paunch made him seem shorter than he was. His face was round and smooth
+and pleasant, and that made him look younger than he was: twenty-one
+instead of twenty-seven. As befitted an acolyte of the Goddess of
+Wisdom, his dark, curly hair was cut rather long. When he bowed to a
+departing worshipper, lowering his head in graceful acknowledgment of
+their deferential nods, he felt that he made a striking and commanding
+picture.
+
+Though, of course, the worshippers weren't doing him any honor. That bow
+was not for him, but directed toward the Owl, the symbol of the Goddess
+embroidered on the breast of the white tunic. As an acolyte, after all,
+he rated just barely above a layman; he had no powers whatever.
+
+Athena knew that, naturally. But somehow it was a little difficult to
+get it through his own doubtless too-thick skull. He'd often dreamed of
+power. Being a priest or a priestess, for instance--now that meant
+something. At least people paid attention to you if you were a member of
+the hierarchy, favored of the Gods. But, Forrester knew, there was no
+chance of that any more. Either you were picked before you were
+twenty-one, or you weren't picked at all, and that was all there was to
+it. In spite of his looks, Forrester was six years past the limit.
+
+And so he'd become an acolyte. Sometimes he wondered how much of that
+had been an honest desire to serve Athena, and how much a sop to his
+worldly vanity. Certainly a college history instructor had enough to do,
+without adding the unpaid religious services of an acolyte to his work.
+
+But these were thoughts unworthy of his position. They reminded him of
+his own childhood, when he had dreamed of becoming one of the Lesser
+Gods, or even Zeus himself! Zeus had provided the best answer to those
+dreams, Forrester knew. "Now I am a man," Zeus had said, "and I put away
+childish things."
+
+Well, Forrester considered, it behooved him to put away childish things,
+too. A mere vanity, a mere love of spectacle, was unworthy of the
+Goddess he served. And his costume and bearing certainly hadn't got him
+very far with Gerda.
+
+He tore his eyes away from her again, and sighed.
+
+Before he could bring his mind back to Athena, there was an
+interruption.
+
+Another white-clad acolyte moved out of the shadows to his right and
+came softly toward him. "Forrester?" he whispered.
+
+Forrester turned, recognizing young Bates, a chinless boy of perhaps
+twenty-two, with the wide, innocent eyes of the born fanatic. But it
+didn't become a servant of Athena to think ill of her other servants,
+Forrester reminded himself. Brushing the possibility of a rude reply
+from his mind, Forrester said simply: "Yes? What is it?"
+
+"There's a couple of Temple Myrmidons to see you outside," Bates
+whispered. "I'll take over your post."
+
+Forrester responded with no more than a simple nod, as if the occurrence
+were one that happened every day. But it was not only the thought of
+leaving Gerda that moved him. As he turned and strode to the small door
+that led to the side room off the main auditorium, he was thinking
+furiously under his calm exterior.
+
+Temple Myrmidons! What could they want with him? As an acolyte, he was
+at least immune to arrest by the civil police, and even the Temple
+Myrmidons had no right to take him into custody without a warrant from
+the Pontifex himself.
+
+But such a warrant was a serious affair. What had he done wrong?
+
+He tried to think of some cause for an arrest. Blasphemy? Sacrilege? But
+he found nothing except his interior thoughts. And those, he told
+himself with a blaze of anger fierce enough to surprise him, were
+nobody's business but his own and Athena's. Authorities either less
+personal or more temporal had no business dealing with thoughts.
+
+Beyond those, there wasn't a thing. No irreverence toward any of the
+Gods, in his private life, his religious functions or his teaching
+position, at least as far as he could recall. The Gods knew that
+unorthodoxy in an Introductory History course, for instance, was not
+only unwise but damned difficult.
+
+Of course, he was aware of the real position of the Gods. They weren't
+omnipotent. Their place in the scheme of things was high, but they were
+certainly not equal with the One who had created the Universe and the
+Gods themselves in the first place. Possibly, Forrester had always
+thought, they could be equated with the indefinite "angels" of the
+religions that had been popular during his grandfather's time, sixty
+years ago, before the return of the Gods. But that was an uncertain
+theological notion, and Forrester was quite ready to abandon it in the
+face of good argument to the contrary.
+
+Whatever they were, the Gods were certainly the Gods of Earth now.
+
+The Omnipotent Creator had evidently left it for them to run, while he
+went about his own mysterious business, far from the understanding or
+the lives of men. The Gods, omnipotent or not, ran the world and
+everything in it.
+
+And if, like Forrester, you knew that omnipotence wasn't their strong
+point, you just didn't mention it. It would have been impolite to have
+done so--like talking about sight to a blind man. And "impolite" was not
+the only word that covered the case. The Gods had enough power, as
+everyone knew, to avenge any blasphemies against them. And careless
+mention of limitations on their power would surely be construed as
+blasphemy, true or not.
+
+Forrester had never even thought of doing such a thing.
+
+So what, he thought, did the Temple Myrmidons want with him?
+
+He came to the anteroom and went in, seeing the two of them at once.
+They were big, burly chaps with hard faces, and the pistols that were
+holstered at their sides looked completely unnecessary. Forrester took a
+deep breath and went a step forward. There he stopped, staring.
+
+The Myrmidons were strangers to him--and now he understood why. Neither
+was wearing the shoulder-patch Owl of Minerva/Athena. Both proudly
+sported the Thunderbolt of Zeus/Jupiter, the All-Father himself.
+
+_Whatever it is_, Forrester told himself with a sinking sensation, _it's
+serious_.
+
+One of the Myrmidons looked him up and down in a casual,
+half-contemptuous way. "You're William Forrester?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said, knowing that he looked quite calm, and
+wondering, at the same time, whether or not he would live out the next
+few minutes. The Myrmidons of Zeus/Jupiter didn't come around to other
+temples on unimportant errands. "May I help you?" he went on, feeling
+foolish.
+
+"Let's see your ID card, please," the Myrmidon said in the same tone as
+before. That puzzled Forrester. He doubted whether examination of
+credentials was a part of the routine preceding arrest--or execution,
+for that matter. The usual procedure was, and probably always had been,
+to act first and apologize later, if at all.
+
+Maybe whatever he'd done had been so important they couldn't afford to
+make mistakes.
+
+But did the Myrmidon really think that an imposter could parade around
+in an acolyte's tunic in the very Temple of Pallas Athena without being
+caught by one of the Athenan Myrmidons, or some other acolyte or priest?
+
+Maybe a thing like that could happen in one of the other Temples,
+Forrester thought. But here at Pallas Athena people took the Goddess's
+attribute of wisdom seriously. What the Dionysians might do, he
+reflected, was impossible to say. Or, for that matter, the Venerans.
+
+But he produced his identity card and handed it to the Myrmidon. It was
+compared with a card the Myrmidon dug out of his pouch, and the
+thumbprints on both cards were examined side by side.
+
+After a while, Forrester got his card back.
+
+The Myrmidon said: "We--" and began to cough.
+
+His companion came over to slap him on the back with bone-crushing
+blows. Forrester watched without changing expression.
+
+Some seconds passed.
+
+Then the Myrmidon choked, swallowed, straightened and said, his face
+purple: "All this incense. Not like what we've got over at the
+All-Father's Temple. Enough to choke a man to death."
+
+Forrester murmured politely.
+
+"Back to business--right?" He favored Forrester with a rather
+savage-looking smile, and Forrester allowed his own lips to curve gently
+and respectfully upward.
+
+It didn't look as if he _were_ going to be killed, after all.
+
+"Important instructions for you," the Myrmidon said. "From the Pontifex
+Maximus. And not to be repeated to any mortal--understand?"
+
+Forrester nodded.
+
+"And that means _any_ mortal," the Myrmidon said. "Girl friend, wife--or
+don't you Athenans go in for that sort of thing? Now, up at the
+All-Father's Temple, we--"
+
+His companion gave him a sharp dig in the ribs.
+
+"Oh," the Myrmidon said. "Sure. Well. Instructions not to be repeated.
+Right?"
+
+"Right," Forrester said.
+
+Instructions? From the Pontifex Maximus? _Secret_ instructions?
+
+Forrester's mind spun dizzily. This was no arrest. This was something
+very special and unique. He tried once more to imagine what it was going
+to be, and gave it up in wonder.
+
+The Myrmidon produced another card from his pouch. There was nothing on
+it but the golden Thunderbolt of the All-Father--but that was quite
+enough.
+
+Forrester accepted the card dumbly.
+
+"You will report to the Tower of Zeus at eighteen hundred hours
+exactly," the Myrmidon said. "Got that?"
+
+"You mean today?" Forrester said, and cursed himself for sounding
+stupid. But the Myrmidon appeared not to have noticed.
+
+"Today, sure," he said. "Eighteen hundred. Just present this card."
+
+He stepped back, obviously getting ready to leave. Forrester watched him
+for one long second, and then burst out: "What do I do after that?"
+
+"Just be a good boy. Do what you're told. Ask no questions. It's better
+that way."
+
+Forrester thought of six separate replies and settled on a seventh. "All
+right," he said.
+
+"And remember," the Myrmidon said, at the outside door, "don't mention
+this to anyone. _Not anyone!_"
+
+The door banged shut.
+
+Forrester found himself staring at the card he held. He put it away in
+his case, alongside the ID card. Then, dazed, he went on back to the
+acolyte's sacristy, took off his white tunic and put on his street
+clothes.
+
+What did they want with him at the Tower of Zeus? It didn't really sound
+like an arrest. If it had been that, the Myrmidons themselves would have
+taken him.
+
+So what did the Pontifex Maximus want with William Forrester?
+
+He spent some time considering it, and then, taking a deep breath, he
+forced it out of his mind. He would know at eighteen hundred, and such
+were the ways of the Gods that he would not know one second before.
+
+So there was no point in worrying about it, he told himself. He almost
+made himself believe it.
+
+But wiping speculation out of his mind left an unwelcome and uneasy
+vacancy. Forrester replaced it with thought of the morning's service in
+the Temple. Such devotion was probably valuable, anyhow, in a spiritual
+sense. It brought him closer to the Gods....
+
+The Gods he wanted desperately to be like.
+
+That, he told himself sharply, was foolishness of the most senseless
+kind.
+
+He blinked it away.
+
+The Goddess Athena had appeared herself at the service--sufficient
+reason for thinking of it now. The statuesquely beautiful Goddess with
+her severely swept-back blonde hair and her deep gray eyes was the
+embodiment of the wisdom and strength for which her worshippers
+especially prayed. Her beauty was almost unworldly, impossible of
+existence in a world which contained mortals.
+
+She reminded Forrester, ever so slightly (and, of course, in a reverent
+way), of Gerda Symes.
+
+There seemed to be a great many forbidden thoughts floating around this
+day. Resolutely, Forrester went back to thinking about the morning's
+service.
+
+The Goddess had appeared only long enough to impart her blessing, but
+her calm, beautifully controlled contralto voice had brought a sense of
+peace to everyone in the auditorium. To be doggedly practical, there was
+no way of knowing whether the Goddess's presence was an appearance--in
+person, or an "appearance" by Divine Vision. But that really didn't
+matter. The effect was always just the same.
+
+Forrester went on out the front portals of the Temple of Wisdom and down
+the long, wide steps onto Fifth Avenue. He paid homage with a passing
+glance to the great Owls flanking the entrance. Symbolic of Athena, they
+had replaced the stone lions which had formerly stood there.
+
+The street was busy with hurrying crowds, enlivened here and there by
+Temple Myrmidons--from the All-Father, from Bacchus, from Venus--even
+one from Pallas Athena herself, a broad-beamed swaggerer whom Forrester
+knew and disliked. The man came striding up the steps, greeted Forrester
+with a bare nod, and disappeared at top speed into the Temple.
+
+Forrester sighed and glanced south, down toward 34th Street, where the
+huge Tower of Zeus, a hundred and four stories high, loomed over all the
+other buildings in the city.
+
+At eighteen hundred he would be in that tower--for what purpose, he had
+no idea.
+
+Well, that was in the future, and he ...
+
+A voice said: "Well! Hello, Bill!"
+
+Forrester turned, knowing exactly what to expect, and disliking it in
+advance. The bluff over-heartiness of the voice was matched by the gross
+and hairy figure that confronted him. In some disarray, and managing to
+look as if he needed simultaneously a bath, a shave, a disinfecting and
+a purgative, the figure approached Forrester with a rolling walk that
+was too flat-footed for anything except an elephant.
+
+"How's the Owl-boy today?" said the voice, and the body stuck out a
+flabby, hairy white hand.
+
+Forrester winced. "I'm fine," he said evenly. "And how's the
+winebibber?"
+
+"Good for you," the figure said. "A little wine for your Stomach's sake,
+as good old Bacchus always says. Only we make it a lot, eh?" He winked
+and nudged Forrester in the ribs.
+
+"Sure, sure," Forrester said. He wished desperately that he could take
+the gross fool and tear him into tastefully arranged pieces. But there
+was always Gerda. And since this particular idiot happened to be her
+younger brother, Ed Symes, anything in the nature of violence was
+unthinkable.
+
+Gerda's opinion of her brother was touching, reverent, and--Forrester
+thought savagely--not in the least borne out by any discoverable facts.
+
+And a worshipper of Bacchus! Not that Forrester had anything against the
+orgiastic rites indulged in by the Dionysians, the Panites, the
+Apollones or even the worst and wildest of them all, the Venerans. If
+that was how the Gods wanted to be worshipped, then that was how they
+should be worshipped.
+
+And, as a matter of fact, it sounded like fun--if, Forrester considered,
+entirely too public for his taste.
+
+If he preferred the quieter rites of Athena, or of Juno, Diana or
+Ceres--and even Ceresians became a little wild during the spring
+fertility rites, especially in the country, where the farmers depended
+on her for successful crops--well, that was no more than a personal
+preference.
+
+But the idea of Ed Symes involved in a Bacchic orgy was just a little
+too much for the normal mind, or the normal stomach.
+
+"Hey," Ed said suddenly. "Where's Gerda? Still in the Temple?"
+
+"I didn't see her," Forrester said. There _had_ been a woman who'd
+looked like her. But that hadn't been Gerda. _She'd_ have waited for him
+here.
+
+And--
+
+"Funny," Ed said.
+
+"Why?" Forrester said. "I didn't see her. I don't think she attended the
+service this morning, that's all."
+
+He wanted very badly to hit Symes. Just once. But he knew he couldn't.
+
+First of all, there was Gerda. And then, as an acolyte, he was
+proscribed by law from brawling. No one would hit an acolyte; and if the
+acolyte were built like Forrester, striking another man might be the
+equivalent of murder. One good blow from Forrester's fist might break
+the average man's jaw.
+
+That was, he discovered, a surprisingly pleasant thought. But he made
+himself keep still as the fat fool went on.
+
+"Funny she didn't attend," Symes said. "But maybe she's gotten wise to
+herself. There was a celebration up at the Temple of Pan in Central
+Park, starting at midnight, and going on through the morning. Spring
+Rites. Maybe she went there."
+
+"I doubt it," Forrester said instantly. "That's hardly her type of
+worship."
+
+"Isn't it?" Symes said.
+
+"It doesn't fit her. That kind of--"
+
+"I know. Gerda's like you. A little stuffy."
+
+"It's not being stuffy," Forrester started to explain. "It's--"
+
+"Sure," Symes said. "Only she's not as much of a prude as you are. I
+couldn't stand her if she were."
+
+"On the other hand, she's not a--"
+
+"Not an Owl-boy of Owl-boys like you."
+
+"Not a drunken blockhead," Forrester finished triumphantly. "At least
+she's got a decent respect for wisdom and learning."
+
+Symes stepped back, a movement for which Forrester felt grateful. No
+matter how far away Ed Symes was, he was still too close.
+
+"Who you calling a blockhead, buster?" Symes said. His eyes narrowed to
+piggish little slits.
+
+Forrester took a deep breath and reminded himself not to hit the other
+man. "You," he said, almost mildly. "If brains were radium, you couldn't
+make a flicker on a scintillation counter."
+
+It was just a little doubtful that Symes understood the insult. But he
+obviously knew it had been one. His face changed color to a kind of
+grayish purple, and his hands clenched slowly at his sides. Forrester
+stood watching him quietly.
+
+Symes made a sound like _Rrr_ and took a breath. "If you weren't an
+acolyte, I'd take a poke at you just to see you bounce."
+
+"Sure you would," Forrester agreed politely.
+
+Symes went _Rrr_ again and there was a longer silence. Then he said:
+"Not that I'd hit you anyhow, buster. It'd go against my grain. Not the
+acolyte business--if you didn't look so much like Bacchus, I'd take the
+chance."
+
+Forrester's jaw ached. In a second he realized why; he was clenching his
+teeth tightly. Perhaps it was true that he did look a little like
+Bacchus, but not enough for Ed Symes to kid about it.
+
+Symes grinned at him. Symes undoubtedly thought the grin gave him a
+pleasant and carefree expression. It didn't. "Suppose I go have a look
+for Gerda myself," he said casually, heading up the stairs toward the
+temple entrance. "After all, you're so busy looking at books, you might
+have missed her."
+
+And what, Forrester asked himself, was the answer to that--except a
+punch in the mouth?
+
+It really didn't matter, anyhow. Symes was on his way into the temple,
+and Forrester could just ignore him.
+
+But, damn it, why did he let the young idiot get his goat that way?
+Didn't he have enough self-control just to ignore Symes and his oafish
+insults?
+
+Forrester supposed sadly that he didn't. Oh, well, it just made another
+quality he had to pray to Athena for.
+
+Then he glanced at his wristwatch and stopped thinking about Symes
+entirely.
+
+It was twelve-forty-five. He had to be at work at thirteen hundred.
+
+Still angry, underneath the sudden need for speed, he turned and
+sprinted toward the subway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And thus," Forrester said tiredly, "having attempted to make himself
+the equal of the Gods, Man was given a punishment befitting such
+arrogance." He paused and took a breath, surveying the twenty-odd
+students in the classroom (and some, he told himself wryly, _very_ odd)
+with a sort of benign boredom.
+
+History I, Introductory Survey of World History, was a simple enough
+course to teach, but its very simplicity was its undoing, Forrester
+thought. The deadly dullness of the day-after-day routine was enough to
+wear out the strongest soul.
+
+Freshmen, too, seemed to get stupider every year. Certainly, when _he'd_
+been seventeen, he'd been different altogether. Studious, earnest,
+questioning ...
+
+Then he stopped himself and grinned. He'd probably seemed even worse to
+his own instructors.
+
+Where had he been? Slowly, he picked up the thread. There was a young
+blonde girl watching him eagerly from a front seat. What was her name?
+Forrester tried to recall it and couldn't. Well, this was only the first
+day of term. He'd get to know them all soon enough--well enough,
+anyhow, to dislike most of them.
+
+But the eager expression on the girl's face unnerved him a little. The
+rest of the class wasn't paying anything like such strict attention. As
+a matter of fact, Forrester suspected two young boys in the back of
+being in a trance.
+
+Well, he could stop that. But ...
+
+She was really quite attractive, Forrester told himself. Of course, she
+was nothing but a fresh, pretty, eager seventeen-year-old, with a figure
+that ...
+
+She was, Forrester reminded himself sternly, a student.
+
+And he was supposed to be an instructor.
+
+He cleared his throat. "Man went hog-wild with his new-found freedom
+from divine guidance," he said. "Woman did, too, as a matter of fact."
+
+Now what unholy devil had made him say that? It wasn't a part of the
+normal lecture for first day of the new term. It was--well, it was
+just a little risque for students. Some of their parents might complain,
+and ...
+
+But the girl in the front row was smiling appreciatively. _I wonder what
+she's doing in an Introductory course_, Forrester thought, leaping with
+no evidence at all to the conclusion that the girl's mind was much too
+fine and educated to be subjected to the general run of classes.
+_Private tutoring_ ... he began, and then cut himself off sharply, found
+his place in the lecture again and went on:
+
+"When the Gods decided to sit back and observe for a few thousand years,
+they allowed Man to go his merry way, just to teach him a lesson."
+
+The boys in the back of the room were definitely in a trance.
+
+Forrester sighed. "And the inevitable happened," he said. "From the
+eighth century B.C., Old Style, until the year 1971 A.D., Old Style,
+Man's lot went from bad to worse. Without the Gods to guide him he bred
+bigger and bigger wars and greater and greater empires--beginning with
+the conquests of the mad Alexander of Macedonia and culminating in the
+opposing Soviet and American Spheres of Influence during the last
+century."
+
+Spheres of Influence....
+
+Forrester's gaze fell on the blonde girl again. She certainly had a
+well-developed figure. And she did seem so eager and attentive. He
+smiled at her tentatively. She smiled back.
+
+"Urg ..." he said aloud.
+
+The class didn't seem to notice. That, Forrester told himself sourly,
+was probably because they weren't listening.
+
+He swallowed, wrenched his gaze from the girl, and said: "The
+Soviet-American standoff--for that is what it was--would most probably
+have resulted in the destruction of the human race." It had no effect on
+the class. The destruction of the human race interested nobody.
+"However," Forrester said gamely, "this form of insanity was too much
+for the Gods to allow. They therefore--"
+
+The bell rang, signifying the end of the period. Forrester didn't know
+whether to feel relieved or annoyed.
+
+"All right," he said. "That's all for today. Your first assignment will
+be to read and carefully study Chapters One and Two of the textbook."
+
+Silence gave way to a clatter of noise as the students began to file
+out. Forrester saw the front-row blonde rise slowly and gracefully. Any
+doubts he might have entertained (that is, he told himself wryly, any
+_entertaining_ doubts) about her figure were resolved magnificently. He
+felt a little sweat on the palm of his hands, told himself that he was
+being silly, and then answered himself that the hell he was.
+
+The blonde gave him a slow, sweet smile. The smile promised a good deal
+more than Forrester thought likely of fulfillment.
+
+He smiled back.
+
+It would have been impolite, he assured himself, not to have done so.
+
+The girl left the room, and a remaining crowd of students hurried out
+after her. The crowd included two blinking boys, awakened by the bell
+from what had certainly been a trance. Forrester made a mental note to
+inquire after their records and to speak with the boys himself when he
+got the chance.
+
+No sense in disturbing a whole class to discipline them.
+
+He stacked his papers carefully, taking a good long time about it in
+order to relax himself and let his palms dry. His mind drifted back to
+the blonde, and he reined it in with an effort and let it go exploring
+again on safer ground. The class itself ... actually, he thought, he
+rather liked teaching. In spite of the petty irritations that came from
+driving necessary knowledge into the heads of stubbornly unwilling
+students, it was a satisfying and important job. And, of course, it was
+an honor to hold the position he did. Ever since it had been revealed
+that the goddess Columbia was another manifestation of Pallas Athena
+herself, the University had grown tremendously in stature.
+
+And after all ...
+
+Whistling faintly behind his teeth, Forrester zipped up his filled
+briefcase and went out into the hall. He ignored the masses of students
+swirling back and forth in the corridors, and, finding a stairway, went
+up to his second-floor office.
+
+He fumbled for his key, found it, and opened the ground-glass door.
+
+Then, stepping in, he came to a full stop.
+
+The girl had been waiting for him--Maya Wilson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now here she was, talking about the Goddess of Love. Forrester
+gulped.
+
+"Anyhow," he said at random, "I'm an Athenan." He remembered that he had
+already said that. Did it matter? "But what does all this have to do
+with your passing, or not passing, the course?" he went on.
+
+"Oh," Maya said. "Well, I prayed to Aphrodite for help in passing the
+course. And the Temple Priestess told me I'd have to make a sacrifice to
+the Goddess. In a way."
+
+"A sacrifice?" Forrester gulped. "You mean--"
+
+"Not the First Sacrifice," she laughed. "That was done with solemn
+ceremonies when I was seventeen."
+
+"Now, wait a minute--"
+
+"Please," Maya said. "Won't you listen to me?"
+
+Forrester looked at her limpid blue eyes and her lovely face. "Sure.
+Sorry."
+
+"Well, then, it's like this. If a person loves a subject, it's that much
+easier to understand it. And the Goddess has promised me that if I love
+the instructor, I'll love the subject. It's like sympathetic
+magic--see?"
+
+Her explanation was so brisk and simple that Forrester recoiled. "Hold
+on," he said. "Just hold your horses. Do you mean you're in love with
+me?"
+
+Maya smiled. "I think so," she said, and very suddenly she was on
+Forrester's side of the desk, pressing up against him. Her hand caressed
+the back of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. "Kiss me and
+let's find out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+Resistance, such as it was, crumbled in a hurry. Forrester complied with
+fervor. An endless time went by, punctuated only by short breaths
+between the kisses. Forrester's hands began to rove.
+
+So did Maya's.
+
+She began to unbutton his shirt.
+
+Not to be outdone, his own fingers got busy with buttons, zippers, hooks
+and the other temporary fastenings with which female clothing is
+encumbered. He was swimming in a red sea of passion and the Egyptians
+were nowhere in sight. Absently, he got an arm out of his shirt, and at
+the same time somehow managed to undo the final button of a series.
+Maya's blouse fell free.
+
+Forrester felt like stout Cortez.
+
+He pulled the girl to him, feeling the surprisingly cool touch of her
+flesh against his. Under the blouse and skirt, he was discovering, she
+wore very little, and that was just as well; nagging thoughts about the
+doubtful privacy of his office were beginning to assail him.
+
+Nevertheless, he persevered. Maya was as eager as he had ever dreamed of
+being, and their embrace reached a height of passion and began to climb
+and climb to hitherto unknown peaks of sensation.
+
+Forrester was busy for some time discovering things he had never known,
+and a lot of things he had known before, but never so well. Every motion
+was met with a reaction that was more than equal and opposite, every
+sensation unlocked the doors to whole galleries of new sensations.
+Higher and higher went his emotional thermometer, higher and higher and
+higher and higher and ...
+
+Very suddenly, he discovered how to breathe again, and it was over.
+
+"My goodness," Maya said after a brief resting spell. "I suppose I
+_must_ love you for sure. My _good_ness!"
+
+"Sure," Forrester said. "And now--if you'll pardon the indelicacy and
+hand me my pants--" he found he was still puffing a little and paused
+until he could go on--"I've got an appointment I simply can't afford to
+miss."
+
+"Oh, all right," Maya said. "But Mr. Forrester--"
+
+He rolled over and looked at her while he began dressing. "I suppose it
+would be all right if you called me Bill," he said carefully.
+
+"In class, too?"
+
+Forrester shook his head. "No," he said. "Not in class."
+
+"But what I wanted to ask--"
+
+"Yes?" Forrester said.
+
+"Mr.--Bill--do you think I'll pass Introductory World History?"
+
+Forrester considered that question. There was certainly a wide variety
+of answers he could construct. When he had finished buttoning his shirt
+he had decided on one.
+
+"I don't see why not," he said, "so long as you complete your
+assignments regularly."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nearly two hours later, feeling somewhat light-headed but otherwise in
+perfectly magnificent fettle, Forrester found himself on the downtown
+subway. He'd showered and changed and he was whistling a gay little tune
+as he checked his watch.
+
+The time was five minutes to five. He had just over an hour before he
+was due to appear at the Tower of Zeus All-Father, but it was better to
+be a few minutes early than even a single second late.
+
+The train ride was a little bumpy, but Forrester didn't really mind. He
+was pretty well past being irritated by anything. Nevertheless, he was
+speculating with just a faint unease as to what the Pontifex Maximus
+wanted with him. What was in store for him at the strange appointment?
+
+And why all the secrecy?
+
+His brooding was interrupted right away. At 100th Street, a bearded old
+man got on and sat down next to him. He nudged Forrester in the ribs and
+muttered: "Look at that now, Daddy-O. Look at that."
+
+"What?" Forrester said, constrained into conversation.
+
+"Damn subways, that's what," the old man said. "Worse every year.
+Bumpier and slower and worse. Just look around, Daddy-O. Look around."
+
+"I wouldn't quite say--" Forrester began, but the old man gave him
+another dig in the ribs and cut in:
+
+"Wouldn't say, wouldn't say," he muttered. "Listen, man, there ain't
+been an improvement in years. You realize that?"
+
+"Well, I--"
+
+"No progress, man, not in more than half a century. Listen, when I was a
+teen king--War Councilor for the Boppers, I was, and let me tell you
+that was big time, Daddy-O--when I was a teen king, we were going
+places. Going places for real. Mars. Venus. We were going to have
+spaceships, man."
+
+Forrester smiled spasmically at the old man. "I'm sure you--"
+
+"But what happened?" the old man interrupted. "Tell you what happened,
+man. We never got to Mars and Venus. Mars and Venus came to us instead.
+Right along with Jupiter and Neptune and Pluto and all the rest of the
+Gods. And we had no progress ever since that day, Daddy-O, no progress
+at all and you can believe it."
+
+He dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat back with melancholy
+satisfaction.
+
+"Well," Forrester said mildly, "what good is progress?" The old man, he
+assured himself after a moment's reflection, wasn't actually saying
+anything blasphemous. After all, the Gods didn't expect their
+worshippers to be mindless slaves.
+
+Somehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have hated reporting the
+old man. Something in the outdated slang made him feel--almost
+patriotic. The old man was a part of America, a respected and important
+part.
+
+The respected part of America made itself felt again in Forrester's
+ribs. "Progress?" the old man said. "What good's progress? Listen,
+Daddy-O--how can the human race get anywhere without progress? Answer me
+that, will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going any
+place now. No place at all."
+
+"Now look," Forrester said patiently, "progress is an outmoded idea.
+We've got to be in step with the times. We've got to ask ourselves what
+progress ever did for us. How did we stand when the Gods returned?" For
+a brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went on: "Half
+the world ready to fight the other half with weapons that would have
+wiped both halves out. You ought to be grateful the Gods returned when
+they did."
+
+"But we're getting into Nowheresville, man," the old man complained.
+"We're not in orbit. We can't progress."
+
+Forrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man, anyway? The answer
+came to him as soon as he'd asked the question. He wanted to keep his
+mind off the Tower of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an
+unpleasant answer; Forrester blanked it out.
+
+"Now, friend," he said. "What have you got? Just what mankind's been
+looking for all these centuries. Security. You've got security. Nobody's
+going to blow you to pieces tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish
+overnight. I mean, if you--"
+
+"I got a job," the old man said.
+
+"Really?" Forrester said politely. "What is it?"
+
+"Retired. And it's a tough job, too."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said.
+
+"And anyhow," the old man went on, "what's all this got to do with
+progress?"
+
+Forrester thought. "Well--"
+
+"Well, nothing," the old man said. "Listen to me, man. I say nothing
+against the Gods--right? Nothing at all. Wouldn't want to do anything
+like that. But at the same time, it looks to me like we ought to be able
+to--reap the fruits of our labors. I read that some place."
+
+"But--"
+
+"In the three thousand years the Gods were gone, we weren't a total
+loss, man. Not anything like. We discovered a lot. About nature and
+science and like that. We invented science all by ourselves. So how come
+the Gods don't let us use it?" The old man dug his elbow once more into
+Forrester's rib. "How come?"
+
+"The Gods haven't taken anything away from us," Forrester said.
+
+"Haven't they?" the old man demanded. "How about television? Want to
+answer that one, Daddy-O? Years ago, everybody had a television set.
+Color and 3-D. The most. The end. Now there's no television at all. Why
+not? What happened to it?"
+
+"Well," Forrester said reasonably, "what good is television?"
+
+"What good?" Once more Forrester's rib felt the old man's elbow. "Let me
+tell you--"
+
+"No," Forrester interrupted, suddenly irritated with the whole
+conversation. "Let _me_ tell _you_. The trouble with your generation was
+that all they wanted to do was sit around on their _glutei maximi_ and
+be entertained. Like a bunch of hypnotized geese. They didn't want to
+do anything for themselves. Half of them couldn't even read. And now
+you want to tell me that--"
+
+"Hold it, Daddy-O," the old man said. "You're telling me that the Gods
+took away television just because we were a bunch of hypnotized geese.
+That it?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"Okay," the old man said. "So tell me--what are we now? With the Gods
+and everything. I mean, man, really--what are we?"
+
+"Now?" Forrester said. "Now you're retired. You're a bunch of retired
+hypnotized geese."
+
+The doors of the train slid creakily open and Forrester got out onto the
+34th Street platform, walking angrily toward a stairway without looking
+back.
+
+True enough, the old man hadn't committed blasphemy, but it had
+certainly come close enough there at the end. And if pokes with the
+elbow weren't declared blasphemous, or at least equivalent to malicious
+mischief, he thought, there was no justice in the world.
+
+The real trouble was that the man had had no respect for the Gods. There
+were a good many of the older generation like him. They seemed to feel
+that humanity had been better off when the Gods had been away. Forrester
+couldn't see it, and felt vaguely uncomfortable in the presence of
+someone who believed it. After all, mankind _had_ been on the verge of
+mass suicide, and the Gods had mercifully come back from their
+self-imposed exile and taken care of things. The exile had been designed
+to prove, in the drastic laboratory of three thousand years, that Man by
+himself headed like a lemming for self-destruction. And, for Forrester,
+the point had been proven.
+
+Yet now that the human race had been saved, there were still men who
+griped about the Gods and their return. Forrester silently wished the
+pack of them in Hades, enjoying the company of Pluto and his ilk.
+
+At the corner of 34th and Broadway, as he came out of the subway
+tunnels, he bought a copy of the _News_ and glanced quickly through the
+headlines. But, as always, there was little sensational news. Mars was
+doing pretty well for himself, of course: there were two wars going on
+in Asia, one in Europe and three revolutions in South and Central
+America. That last did seem to be overdoing things a bit, but not
+seriously. Forrester shrugged, wondering vaguely when the United States
+was going to have its turn.
+
+But he couldn't concentrate on the paper and, after a little while, he
+got rid of it and took a look at his watch.
+
+Twenty to six. Forrester decided he could use a drink to brace himself
+and steady his nerves.
+
+Just one.
+
+On Sixth Avenue, near 34th Street, there was a bar called, for some
+obscure reason, the _Boat House_. Forrester headed for it, went inside
+and leaned against the bar. The bartender, a tall man with crew-cut
+reddish hair, raised his eyebrows in a questioning fashion.
+
+"What'll it be, friend?"
+
+"Vodka and ginger ale," Forrester said. "A double."
+
+It was still, he told himself uneasily, just one drink. And that was all
+he was going to have.
+
+The bartender brought it and Forrester sipped at it, watching his
+reflection in the mirror and wishing he felt easier in his mind about
+the whole Tower of Zeus affair. Then, very suddenly, he noticed that the
+man next to him was looking at him oddly. Forrester didn't like the look
+or, for that matter, the man himself, a raw-boned giant with deep-set
+eyes and a shock of dead-black hair, but so long as nobody bothered him,
+Forrester wasn't going to start anything.
+
+Unfortunately, somebody bothered him. The tall man leaned over and said
+loudly: "What's the matter with you, bud? An infidel or something?"
+
+Forrester hesitated. The accusation that he didn't believe in the
+practices ordained by the Gods themselves was an irritating one. But he
+could see the other side of the question, too. The tall man was
+undoubtedly a Dionysian; and, more than that, a member of a small sect
+inside the general _corpus_ of Bacchus/Dionysus worshippers. He held
+that it was wrong to distill grape or grain products "too far," until
+there was nothing left but the alcohol.
+
+That meant disapproval of gin and vodka on the grounds that, unlike
+whiskey or brandy, they'd had the "life" distilled out of them.
+
+Forrester, however, was not really fond of brandy and whiskey. He
+decided to explain this to the tall man, but at the same time he began
+to develop the sinking feeling that it wasn't going to do any good.
+
+Oh, well, there was still room for patience. "Don't fire," as Mars had
+said somewhere, "until you see the whites of their eyes."
+
+"No, I'm no infidel," Forrester said politely. "You see, I'm--"
+
+"_No infidel?_" the tall man roared. "Then I tell you what you do. You
+pour that slop out and drink a proper drink." He made a grab for
+Forrester's glass.
+
+Forrester jerked it back, sloshing it a little in the process--and a few
+drops splattered on the other's hand.
+
+"Now look here," Forrester said in a reasonable tone of voice. "I--"
+
+"You spilling that stuff on me? What the blazes are you doing that for?
+I got a good mind to--"
+
+Another man stepped into the altercation. This was a square-built,
+bullet-headed man with an air that was both truculent and eager. "What's
+the matter, Herb?" he asked the tall man. "This guy giving you trouble
+or something?" He favored Forrester with a fierce scowl. Forrester
+smiled pleasantly back, a little unsure as to how to proceed.
+
+"This guy?" Herb said. "_Trouble?_ Sam, he's an _infidel_!"
+
+Forrester said: "I--"
+
+"He drinks vodka," Herb said. "And I guess he drinks gin too."
+
+"Great Bacchus," Sam said in a tone of wonder. "You run into them
+everywhere these days. Can't get away from the sons of--"
+
+"Now--" Forrester started.
+
+"And not only that," Herb said, "but he spills the stuff on me. Just
+because I ask him to have a regular drink like a man."
+
+"_Spills_ it on you?" Sam said.
+
+Herb said: "Look," and extended his arm. On the sleeve of his jacket a
+few spots were slowly drying.
+
+"Well, that's too much," Sam said heavily. "Just too damn much." He
+scowled at Forrester again. "You know, buddy, somebody ought to teach
+guys like you a lesson."
+
+Forrester took a swallow of his drink and set the glass down
+unhurriedly. If either Herb or Sam attacked him, he knew his oath would
+permit his fighting back. And after the day he'd had, he rather looked
+forward to the chance. But he had to do his part to hold off an actual
+fight. "Now look here, friend--"
+
+"Friend?" Sam said. "Don't call me your friend, buddy. I make no friends
+with infidels."
+
+And, at that point, Forrester realized that he wasn't going to have a
+fight with Herb or Sam. He was going to have a fight with Herb _and_
+Sam--and with the third gentleman, a shaggy, beefy man who needed a
+shave, who stepped up behind them and asked: "Trouble?" in a voice that
+indicated that trouble was exactly what he was looking for.
+
+"Maybe it is trouble, at that," Herb said tightly, without turning
+around. "This infidel here's been committing blasphemy."
+
+Three against one wasn't as happy a thought as an even fight had been,
+but it was too late to back out now. "That's a lie!" Forrester snapped.
+
+"Call me a liar?" Sam roared. He stepped forward and swung a hamlike
+fist at Forrester's head.
+
+Forrester ducked. The heavy fist swished by his ear harmlessly, and he
+felt a strange new mixture of elation and fright. He grabbed his
+vodka-and-ginger from the bar and swung it in a single sweeping arc
+before him. Liquid rained on the faces of the three men.
+
+Sam was still a little off balance. Forrester slammed the edge of his
+right hand into his side, and Sam stumbled to the floor. In the same
+motion, Forrester let fly with the now-empty glass. The shaggy man stood
+directly in his path. The glass conked him on the forehead and bounced
+to the floor, where it shattered unnoticed. The shaggy man blinked and
+Forrester, moving forward, discovered that he had no time to follow
+matters up in that direction.
+
+Herb was snarling inarticulately, wiping vodka-and-ginger from his eyes.
+He blocked Forrester's advance toward the shaggy man. Forrester smiled
+gently and put a hard fist into Herb's solar plexus. The tall man
+doubled up in completely silent agony.
+
+Forrester took a breath and started forward again. The shaggy man was
+shaking his head, trying to clear it.
+
+Then Forrester's head became unclear. Something had banged against his
+right temple and the room was suddenly filled with pain and small, hard
+stars. Sam, Forrester discovered, had managed to get to his feet. The
+something had been a small brass ashtray that Sam had thrown at him.
+
+Somehow, he stayed on his feet. The stars were still swirling around
+him, but he began to be able to see through them, and peered at the
+figure of the shaggy man, coming at him again. He let his knees bend a
+little, as if he were going to pass out. The shaggy man seemed to gain
+confidence from this, and stepped in carefully to kick Forrester in the
+stomach.
+
+Forrester stepped back, grabbed the upcoming foot, and stood straight,
+lifting the foot and levering it into the air.
+
+The shaggy man, surprise written all over his shaveless face, went over
+backward with great abruptness. His head hit the floor with an audible
+and satisfying _whack_, and then his limbs settled and he remained
+there, sprawled out and very quiet.
+
+Forrester, meanwhile, was whirling to meet Sam, who was coming in like a
+bear, his arms outspread and a glaze of hatred in his eyes. Forrester,
+expressionless, ducked under the man's flailing arms and slammed a fist
+into his midsection. It was a harder midsection than he'd expected;
+unlike Herb, Sam had good muscles, and hitting them was like hitting
+thick rubber. The blow didn't put Sam down. It only made him gasp once.
+
+That was enough. Forrester doubled his right fist and let Sam have one
+more blow, this one into the face. Sam's mouth opened as his eyes
+closed. His left arm pawed the air aimlessly for a tenth of a second.
+
+Then he dropped like an empty overcoat.
+
+There was a second of absolute silence. Then Forrester heard a noise
+behind him and whirled.
+
+But it was only Herb, doubled up on the floor and very quietly retching.
+
+Catching his breath, Forrester looked around him. The fight had
+attracted a lot of attention from the other customers in the bar, but
+none of them seemed to want to prolong it by joining in.
+
+They were all trying to look as if they were minding their own business,
+while the bartender ...
+
+Forrester stared. The bartender was at the other end of the bar, far
+away from the scene of action.
+
+He was, as Forrester saw him, just hanging up the telephone.
+
+Forrester put a bill on the bar, turned and walked out into the street.
+He had absolutely no desire to get mixed up with the secular police.
+
+After all, he had an appointment to keep. And now--after a quiet drink
+that had turned into a three-against-one battle royal--he had to go and
+keep it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+It wasn't a very long walk from the _Boat House_ to the Tower of Zeus,
+but it was long enough. By the time Forrester got to the Tower, he was
+feeling a lot worse than he'd felt when he left the bar. Being perfectly
+frank with himself, he admitted that he felt terrible.
+
+The blow from the brass ashtray wasn't a sharp pain any longer. It had
+developed into a nice, dependable ache that had spread all over the side
+of his head. And his right eye was beginning to swell, probably from the
+same cause. He'd skinned the knuckles of his right hand, too, probably
+on Sam's face, and they set up their own smarting.
+
+True, it wasn't a bad list of injuries to result from the odds he'd
+faced. But that wasn't the point.
+
+You just didn't go up to the Tower of Zeus looking like a back-street
+brawler.
+
+However, there was no help for it. He straightened his jacket and went
+in through the Fifth Avenue entrance of the Tower, heading for the first
+bank of elevators.
+
+Zeus All-Father would know everything about his fight, and would know
+that it hadn't been his fault. (Hadn't it, though? Forrester asked
+himself. He remembered the joy he'd felt at the prospect of battle. How
+far would it count against him?) Zeus All-Father, through his priests,
+would make what allowances should be made.
+
+Forrester hoped that the Godhead was feeling in a kind and merciful
+mood.
+
+He reached the bank of elevators, and the burly Myrmidon who stood
+there, wearing the lightning-bolt shoulder patch of the All-Father.
+Ahead of him was a chattering crowd of five: mother, father, two
+daughters and a small son, all obviously out-of-towners. The Tower of
+Zeus was always a big tourist attraction. The Myrmidon directed them to
+the stairway that led to the second-floor Arcade, the main attraction
+for most visitors to the Tower. The Temple of Sacrifice was located up
+there, while the ground floor was filled with glass-fronted offices of
+the secretaries of various dignitaries.
+
+Chattering gaily, and looking around them in a kind of happy awe, the
+family group moved off and Forrester stepped up to the Myrmidon, who
+said: "Stairway's right over there to your--"
+
+"No," Forrester said. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling his
+muscles ache as he did so. He drew out his wallet and managed to extract
+the simple card he'd been given in the Temple of Pallas Athena, the card
+which carried nothing but a lightning bolt.
+
+He handed it to the Myrmidon, who looked down at it, frowned, and then
+looked up.
+
+"What's this for?" he said.
+
+"Well--" Forrester began, and then caught himself. He'd been told not to
+explain about the card to any mortal. And the Myrmidon was certainly
+just as mortal as Forrester himself, or any other hireling of the Gods.
+True, there was always the consideration that he might be Zeus
+All-Father himself, in disguise.
+
+But that was a consideration that bore no weight at present. Even if the
+Myrmidon turned out to be a God in disguise, Forrester wouldn't be
+excused if he said anything about the card. You had to go by
+appearances; that was the principle on which everything rested, and a
+very good principle too.
+
+Not that there weren't a few unprincipled young men around who pretended
+to be Gods in disguise in order to seduce various local and ingenuous
+maidens. But Zeus always found out about them. And ...
+
+Forrester recognized that his thoughts were beginning to veer once more.
+Without changing his expression, he said evenly: "You're supposed to
+know," and waited.
+
+The Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about three days. At last he
+nodded, looked down at the card intently, raised his head and nodded
+again. "Okay," he said. "Take Car One."
+
+Forrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator car. As a matter
+of fact, it was in the middle bank, identified only by a small placard.
+It took him almost five minutes to find it, and by the time he stepped
+toward it clocks were ticking urgently in his head.
+
+It would do him absolutely no good to be late.
+
+But another Myrmidon was standing beside the closed doors of the
+elevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath with impatience--none of
+which showed on his face--and then caught himself. Certainly Zeus
+All-Father knew what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delays
+in his path, it was not for him to complain.
+
+The thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester showed his card to the
+Myrmidon with an abrupt action very like impatience. This Myrmidon
+merely glanced at it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wall
+behind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped inside, and the
+doors closed.
+
+Forrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which began at once to
+rise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was unable to tell. There were no
+indicators at all on the elevator, and the opaque doors made it
+impossible to see floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, and
+when the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that threw
+Forrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost fell out of the car
+as the door opened, and clutched at something for support.
+
+The something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester gaped and looked
+around. He was in a plain hallway of polished marble. There was no way
+to tell how many stories above the street he was.
+
+The Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his compatriots
+downstairs, and wore in addition to the usual lightning-bolt patch the
+two silver ants of a Captain on the shoulders of his uniform. He nearly
+smiled at Forrester--but not quite.
+
+"You're William Forrester?" he said.
+
+Forrester nodded. He produced the ID card and handed it with the special
+card to the Myrmidon.
+
+"Right," the Myrmidon said.
+
+Forrester turned right.
+
+The Myrmidon stared at him. "No," he said. "I mean it's all right.
+You're all right."
+
+"Thank you," Forrester said.
+
+"Oh--" The Myrmidon looked at him, then shrugged his shoulders. "You're
+expected," he said at last in a flat voice. "Come with me."
+
+He started down the hallway. Forrester followed him around a corner to
+an ornate bronzed door, covered with bas-reliefs depicting the actions
+of the Gods among themselves, and among men. The Myrmidon seemed
+unimpressed by the magnificence of the thing; he pushed it open and
+bowed low to, as far as Forrester could see, nobody in particular.
+
+Taking no chances, Forrester copied his bow. He was still bent when the
+Myrmidon announced: "Forrester is here, Your Concupiscence," in a
+reverent tone of voice, and backed off a step, narrowly missing
+Forrester himself in the process.
+
+He waved a hand and Forrester went in.
+
+The door shut halfway behind him.
+
+The room was perfectly unbelievable. Its rich hangings were purple
+velvet, draping a large window that looked out on ...
+
+Forrester gulped. It was impossible to be this high. New York was spread
+out below like a toy city.
+
+He jerked his eyes away from the window and back to the rest of the
+room. It was furnished mainly with couches: big couches, little couches,
+puffy ones, spare ones, in felt, velvet, fur, and every other material
+Forrester could think of. The rooms were flocked in a pale pink, and on
+the floor was a deep-purple rug of a richer pile than Forrester had ever
+seen.
+
+And on one of the couches, the largest and the softest, she reclined.
+
+She was clad only in the diaphanous robes of her calling, and she was
+stacked. Beside her, little Maya Wilson would have looked about eight
+years old. Her hair was as red as the inside of a blast furnace, and had
+about the same effect on Forrester's pulse rate. Her face was a slightly
+rounded oval, her body a series of mathematically indescribable curves.
+
+Forrester did the only thing he could do.
+
+He bowed again, even lower than before.
+
+"Come in, William Forrester," said the High Priestess of
+Venus/Aphrodite, the veritable Primate of Venus for New York herself, in
+a voice that managed to be all at once regal, pleasant and seductive.
+
+Forrester, already in, could think of nothing to say. The gaze of Her
+Concupiscence fell on the half-open door. "You may retire, Captain," she
+said to the waiting Myrmidon. "And allow no one to enter here until I
+give notice."
+
+"Very well, Your Concupiscence," the Myrmidon said.
+
+The door shut.
+
+Forrester snapped erect from his bow, and then realized that he could do
+nothing but stand there until he had more information. What was the
+High Priestess of Aphrodite doing in the Tower of Zeus All-Father
+anyway? And--always supposing she had the right to be there, as of
+course she must have had--what did she want with William Forrester?
+
+He heaved a great sigh. This was turning into an extremely puzzling day.
+First there had been the message and the card admitting him to the
+Tower. Then there had been (the sigh changed in character) Maya Wilson.
+And then (the sigh changed again, into a faint echo of a groan) the
+fight in the _Boat House_.
+
+Now he was having an audience with the Primate of Venus for New York.
+
+Why?
+
+The High Priestess's smile gave him no hint. She raised herself to a
+sitting position and patted the couch. "Sit over here," she said. "Next
+to me." Then she changed her mind. "No," she added. "First just walk
+over here, stand up and turn around. Slowly."
+
+Forrester's brain was whirling like a top, but his face was, as usual,
+expressionless. He did as she had bid him, wondering frantically what
+was going on, and why?
+
+After he had turned completely around and stood facing her again, the
+High Priestess simply sat and studied him for almost a full minute,
+looking him up and down with eyes that were totally unreadable.
+Forrester waited.
+
+Finally she nodded her head slowly. "You'll do," she said, in a
+reflective tone, and nodded her head again. "Yes, you'll do."
+
+Forrester couldn't restrain his questions any longer. "_Do?_" he burst
+out. "I mean," he continued, more quietly, "what will I do for, Your
+Concupiscence?"
+
+"Oh, for whatever honor it is that our beloved Goddess has in mind for
+you," the High Priestess said offhandedly. "I can certainly see that you
+will do. A little pudgy around the middle, but that's a trifle and
+hardly matters. The important things are there. You're obviously strong
+and quick."
+
+At that point Forrester caught up with the first sentence of her
+explanation. "The--the Goddess?" he said faintly.
+
+"Certainly," the High Priestess said. "Else why would I give you
+audience? I am not promiscuous in my dealings with the lay world."
+
+"I'm sure," Forrester said respectfully.
+
+The High Priestess looked at him sardonically. "Of course you are," she
+said. "However, the important thing is that our beloved Aphrodite has
+selected you, William Forrester, for some high honor."
+
+Forrester caught her word for the Goddess, and remembered, thanking his
+lucky stars he hadn't had a chance to slip, that here in the Tower it
+was protocol to refer to the Gods and Goddesses by their Greek names
+alone.
+
+"I don't suppose," he said tentatively, "that you have any idea just
+what this--high honor is?"
+
+"You, William Forrester," the High Priestess began, in some rage, "dare
+to question--" Her tone changed. "Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn't become
+angry with ... No." She shrugged, but her tone carried a little pique.
+"Frankly, I don't know what the honor is."
+
+"Well, then," Forrester said, his bearing perfectly calm, even though he
+could feel his stomach sinking to ground level, "how do you know it's an
+honor?" The thought that had crossed his mind was almost too horrible to
+retain, but he had to say it. "Perhaps," he went on, "I've offended the
+Gods in some unusual way--some way very offensive to them."
+
+"Perhaps you have."
+
+"And perhaps," Forrester said, "they've decided on some exquisite method
+of punishing me. Something like the punishment they gave Tantalus when
+he--"
+
+"I know the ways of the Gods quite well, thank you," the High Priestess
+said coolly. "And I can tell you that your fears have no justification."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Please," the High Priestess said, raising a hand. "If the Gods were to
+punish you, they would simply have sent out a squad of Myrmidons to pick
+you up, and that would have been the end of it."
+
+"Perhaps not," Forrester said, in a voice that didn't sound at all like
+his own to him. It sounded much too unconcerned. "Perhaps I have
+offended only the Goddess herself." The idea sounded more plausible the
+more he thought about it. "Certainly the All-Father would back up his
+favorite Daughter in punishing a mortal."
+
+"Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And still the Myrmidons
+would have--"
+
+"Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional arguments and
+quarrels between the Gods."
+
+"I am," the High Priestess said, not without irony. "And it does not
+appear seemly that an ordinary mortal should mention--"
+
+"I teach History," Forrester said. "I know of such quarrels. Especially
+between Athena and Aphrodite."
+
+"And?"
+
+"It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may be that Aphrodite
+wished to keep my arrest secret."
+
+"I doubt it," the High Priestess said.
+
+Forrester wished he could believe her. But his own theory looked
+uncomfortably plausible. "It certainly looks as if I'm right."
+
+"Well--" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly, the freckles
+that went with her red hair standing out clearly on her face and giving
+her the disturbing appearance of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old,
+however, Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the High
+Priestess.
+
+Then she regained her color and laughed, all in an instant. "For a
+minute," she said in a light tone, "you almost convinced me of your
+forebodings. But there's nothing in them. There couldn't be."
+
+Forrester opened his mouth, and _Why not?_ was on his lips. But he never
+got a chance to say the words. The High Priestess blinked and peered
+more closely at his face, and before he had a chance to speak she asked
+him: "What happened to you?"
+
+"A small accident," Forrester said quickly. It was a lie, but he thought
+a pardonable one. The truth was just too complicated to spin out; he had
+no real intent to deceive.
+
+But the High Priestess shook her head. "No," she said. "Not an accident.
+A fight. Your hands are skinned and bruised."
+
+"Very well," Forrester said. "It was a fight. But I was attacked, and
+entitled to defend myself."
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said. "Yet I have a question for you. Who
+won?"
+
+"Won? I did. Naturally."
+
+It sounded boastful, he reflected, but it wasn't. He had won, and it had
+been natural to him to do so. His build and strength, as well as his
+speed, had made any other outcome unlikely.
+
+And the High Priestess didn't seem to take offense. She said only: "I
+thought so. Just a moment." Then she walked over to a telephone. It was
+a simple act but Forrester watched it fervently. First she stood up, and
+then she took a step, and then another step ... and her whole body
+moved. And moved.
+
+It was marvelous. He watched her bend down to pick up the phone without
+any clear idea of the meaning of the motions. The motions themselves
+were enough. Every curve and jiggle and bounce was engraved forever on
+his mind.
+
+The High Priestess dialed a number, waited and said: "Aphrodite's
+compliments to Hermes the Healer."
+
+An indistinguishable voice answered her from the receiver.
+
+"Aphrodite thanks you," the High Priestess said, "and asks if Hermes
+might send one of his priests around for a few minor ministrations."
+
+The receiver said something else.
+
+"No," the High Priestess said. "Nothing like that. Don't you think we
+have other interests--such as they are?"
+
+Again the receiver.
+
+"Just a black eye and some skin lacerations," the High Priestess said.
+"Nothing serious."
+
+And the receiver replied once more.
+
+"Very well," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite wishes you well." She
+hung up.
+
+She came back to the couch, Forrester's eyes following her every inch of
+the way. She sat down, looked up and said: "What's the matter? Do I bore
+you?"
+
+"_Bore_ me?" Forrester all but cried.
+
+"It's just--well, nothing, I suppose," the High Priestess said. "Your
+expression."
+
+"Training," Forrester explained. "An acolyte does well not to express
+his emotions too clearly."
+
+The High Priestess nodded casually and patted the couch at her side.
+"Sit down here, next to me."
+
+Forrester did so, gingerly.
+
+A moment of silence ensued.
+
+Then Forrester, gathering courage, said: "Thank you for getting a
+Healer. But I'd like to ask you--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"How do you know I'm not under some sort of carefully concealed arrest?
+After all, you said before that you were sure--"
+
+"And I am sure," the High Priestess said. "Aphrodite herself has ordered
+a sacrifice in her favor. A sacrifice from you. And Aphrodite does not
+accept--much less _order_--a sacrifice from those standing in her
+disfavor."
+
+"You're--"
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Good." The world was not quite as black as it
+could have been. And still, it was not exactly shining white. A
+sacrifice? And outside the door, Forrester could hear a disturbance.
+
+What did that mean?
+
+Her Concupiscence didn't seem to hear it at first. "We will perform the
+rite together and--" The noise grew louder. "What's that?" she said.
+
+It was the sound of argument. Forrester realized what had happened.
+"It's the priest from Hermes," he said. "The Healer. You forgot to tell
+the Captain of Myrmidons to let him in."
+
+"My goodness!" the High Priestess said. "So I did! It slipped my mind
+entirely." She touched Forrester's cheek affectionately. "Of course, I
+imagine it's only natural to be a bit forgetful when--" She got up and
+went to the door.
+
+The Captain and a small, fat priest in a golden-edged tunic were tangled
+confusedly outside. The High Priestess looked away from them in disdain
+and said regally: "You may permit the Healer to enter, Captain." The
+tangle came untied and the little priest scooted in. To him, as the door
+closed again, the High Priestess whispered: "Sorry. I didn't expect you
+quite so soon."
+
+"No more did I!" The priest waved his caduceus furiously, so that it
+seemed as if the twin snakes twined round it were moving, the two wings
+above them beating, and the ball surmounting all, on top of the staff,
+traced uneasy designs in the air. "Myrmidons!" he said.
+
+"I certainly regret--"
+
+"If you boiled down their brains for the fat content, one alone would
+supply the Temple with candles for a year! Just beef and nothing more!
+Beef! Beef!"
+
+Then, with a start, he seemed to see the High Priestess for the first
+time, and his tone changed. "Oh," he said. "Good evening, Your
+Concupiscence."
+
+"Good evening," the High Priestess said in an indulgent tone.
+
+"Well, well, well," the priest said. "What seems to be the trouble? My
+goodness. It must be important, sure enough--certainly important." His
+little round red eager face seemed to shine as he went on. "Hermes
+himself transported me here just as soon as you called!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Just as soon as ever. Yes. Hm. And you
+can believe me when I tell you--believe me, Your Concupiscence--take my
+word when I tell you--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Hermes," the priest said. "Hermes doesn't often take such an
+interest--I may say such a _personal_ interest--in a mortal, I'll tell
+you. And you can believe me when I do tell you that. I do."
+
+"I'm sure," the High Priestess said.
+
+"Yes," the priest said, waving his caduceus gently. He blinked. "Where's
+the patient? The mortal?"
+
+"He's over here," the High Priestess said, motioning to Forrester
+sitting awestruck on the couch. Priests of Hermes were common enough
+sights--but a priest like this was something new and strange in his
+experience.
+
+"Ah," the priest said, twinkling at him. "So there you are, eh? Over
+there? You _are_ sitting over _there_, aren't you?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said blankly.
+
+"Now listen to me carefully," the High Priestess said. "You're not
+to ask his name, or mention anything about this visit to
+anyone--understand?"
+
+The priest blinked. "Oh, certainly. Absolutely. Without doubt. I've
+already been told that, you might say. Already. Certainly. Wouldn't
+think of such a thing." He moved over and stood near Forrester, peering
+down at him. "My goodness," he said. "Let me see that eye, young man."
+
+Forrester turned his head wordlessly.
+
+"Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Black indeed. Very black. A fight. My,
+yes. An altercation, disagreement, discussion, battle--"
+
+"Yes," Forrester cut in.
+
+"Certainly you have," the priest said. "And what'd the other fellow look
+like, eh? Beaten, I'll bet. You look a strong type."
+
+Forrester relaxed. It was the only thing to do while the priest babbled
+on, touching his wounds gently as he did so with various parts of his
+caduceus. The pain vanished with a touch of the left wingtip, and the
+lacerations healed instantly as they were caressed with first one and
+then another of the various coils of the snakes.
+
+But Forrester now was free to worry. Arrest was out of the question. As
+the High Priestess had said, on the evidence it was clear that Aphrodite
+intended to honor him in some way. And there was nothing at all, he
+thought, wrong with an honor from the Goddess of Love.
+
+But another sacrifice? After the sacrifice to Aphrodite he'd made
+earlier, and the fight he'd gotten into, he just didn't quite feel up to
+it. It wouldn't do to refuse, but ...
+
+"Well," the priest said, stepping back. "Well, well. You ought to be all
+right now, young fellow--right as rain."
+
+Forrester said: "Thanks."
+
+"Might feel a little soreness--tenderness, you might say--for a day or
+so. Only a day or so, tenderness," the priest said. "After that, right
+as rain. Right as you'll ever be. _All_ right, as a matter of fact: all
+right."
+
+Forrester said: "Thanks."
+
+The priest went to the door, turned, and said to the High Priestess:
+"Hermes' blessing on you both, as a matter of fact, as they say.
+Blessings from Hermes on you both."
+
+The High Priestess nodded regally.
+
+"And," the priest said, "merely by the way, as it might be, without
+meaning harm, if you would ask a blessing for me--Aphrodite's blessing?
+Easy for you. Of course, it would be nice curing--curing, as they
+say--stupidity, plain dumbness, as they call such things--curing
+stupidity as easily as I can cure small ills. Nice."
+
+"Indeed," the High Priestess said.
+
+"But there," the priest went on. "Only the Gods can cure that. Only the
+Gods and no one else. Yes. Hm. And not often. They don't do anything
+like that in the--ah--regular course of things. As a matter of fact, you
+might say, I've never heard of--never heard of such a case. Never. Not
+one. Yet ..." He opened the door, spat: "Myrmidons!" and disappeared
+into the hallway.
+
+The door banged shut.
+
+Forrester sighed heavily. The High Priestess turned to him.
+
+"Feel better?" she asked.
+
+"Much," Forrester said, dreading the ordeal to come.
+
+The High Priestess came over to the couch and sat down next to him. She
+put a hand on his shoulder. "Shall we prepare for the--sacrifice?"
+
+Forrester sighed again. "Sure," he said. "Naturally."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she was locked in his arms, it was as if time had started all over
+again. Forrester responded to the eagerness of the woman as he'd never
+dreamed he could respond; all his tiredness dropped away as if it had
+never been, and he was a new man. He touched her bare flesh and felt the
+heat of her through his fingers and hands; with his arms around her
+nakedness he rolled, locked to her, feeling the friction of skin against
+skin and the magnificence of her.
+
+The sacrifice went on ... and on ... and on into endless time and
+endless space. Forrester thrust and gasped at the woman and her head
+went back, her mouth pulled open as she shivered and responded to
+him....
+
+Forever....
+
+Until finally they lay, panting, in the magnificent room. Forrester rose
+first, vaguely surprised at himself. He found a towel in a closet at the
+far end of the room and wiped his damp forehead slowly.
+
+"Well," he said. "That was quite a sacrifice. What next?"
+
+The High Priestess raised herself on one elbow and stared across the
+room at him. "There is no need for such familiarity, Forrester," she
+said. "Not from a lay acolyte."
+
+Forrester tossed the towel onto a couch. "My apologies, Your
+Concupiscence. I'm a little--light-headed. But what happens next?"
+
+The High Priestess reached into the diaphanous pile of her clothing and
+came up with a small diamond-encrusted watch she wore, usually, on her
+wrist. "Our timing was almost perfect," she said. "It is now
+twenty-hundred hours. The Goddess expects you at twenty-oh-one exactly."
+
+A hurried half-minute passed. Then, fully dressed, Forrester went with
+the High Priestess to a golden door half-hidden in the hangings at the
+side of the room. She made a series of mystical signs: the circle, the
+serpent and others Forrester couldn't quite follow.
+
+She opened the door, genuflecting as she did so, and Forrester dropped
+to one knee behind her, looking at the doorway.
+
+It was filled with a pale blue haze that looked like the clear summer
+sky on a hot day. Except that it wasn't sky, but a curtain that wavered
+and shimmered before his eyes. Beyond it, he could see nothing.
+
+The High Priestess rose from her genuflection and Forrester followed
+suit. There was a sole second of silence.
+
+Then the High Priestess said: "You are to step through the Veil of
+Heaven, William Forrester."
+
+Forrester said: "_Me?_ Through the _Veil of Heaven_?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," she said. "And don't try to touch the Veil. Just walk
+through as if nothing at all were there."
+
+Forrester filled his lungs as though he were going to take a very high
+dive. He thought: _Here goes nothing_. That was all; there wasn't time
+for anything else.
+
+He stepped into the blue haze, and had a sudden sensation of falling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+There was a tingle like a mild electric shock. Forrester opened his
+mouth and then closed it again as the tingle stopped, and the sense of
+falling simply died away. He had closed his eyes on the way into the
+curtain, and now he opened them again.
+
+He closed them very quickly, counted to ten, and took a deep breath.
+Then he opened them to look at the room he was in.
+
+It was unlike any room he had ever seen before. It didn't have the
+opulence of the High Priestess's rooms. I am a room, it seemed to say,
+and a room is what I was meant to be. I don't have to draw attention to
+myself like my poorer sisters. I am content merely to exist as the room
+of rooms, the very type and image of the Ideal Enclosure.
+
+The floors and walk of the place seemed to blend into each other at odd
+angles. Forrester's eyes couldn't quite follow them or understand them,
+and judging the size of the room was out of the question. There was a
+golden wash of light filling the room, though it didn't seem to come
+from anywhere in particular. It was, in fact, as if the room itself were
+shining. Forrester blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light, or whatever
+it was, was changing color.
+
+Gradually, he realized that it went on doing that. He wasn't sure that
+he liked it, but it was certainly different. The colors went from gold
+to pale rose to violet to blue, and so on, back to gold again, while
+little eddies and swirls of light sparkled into rainbows here and there.
+
+Forrester began to feel dizzy again.
+
+There were various objects standing around here and there in the room,
+but Forrester couldn't quite tell what they were. Even their sizes were
+difficult to judge, because of the shifting light and shape of the room
+itself. There was only one thing that seemed reasonably certain.
+
+He was alone in the room.
+
+Set in one wall was a square of light that didn't change color quite as
+much as everything else. Forrester judged it to be a window and headed
+for it. With his first step, he discovered something else about the
+place.
+
+The carpeting was completely unique. Instead of fiber, the floor seemed
+to have been covered a foot deep with foam rubber. Forrester didn't
+exactly walk to the window; he bounced there. The sensation was almost
+enjoyable, he thought, when you got used to it. He wondered just how
+long it took to get used to it and settled on eighty years as a good
+first guess.
+
+He stood in front of the window. He looked out.
+
+He saw nothing but clouds and sky.
+
+It took a long while for him to decide what to do next, and when he
+finally did come to a decision, it was the wrong one.
+
+He looked down.
+
+Below him there were tumbled rocks, ledges of ice and snow, clouds
+and--far, far below--the flat land of the Earth. He wanted to shut his
+eyes, but he couldn't. The whole vast stomach-churning panorama spread
+out beneath him endlessly. The people below, if there were any, weren't
+even big enough to be ants. They were completely invisible. Forrester
+took a deep breath and gripped the side ledges of the window.
+
+And a voice behind him said: "Welcome, Mortal."
+
+Forrester almost went through the window. But he managed to regain his
+balance and turn around, saying angrily: "Don't _do_ that!" As the last
+of the words left his lips, he became aware of the smiling figure facing
+him.
+
+She was standing in a spotlight, Forrester thought at first. Then he saw
+that the light was coming from the woman herself--or from her clothing.
+The dress she wore was a satinlike sheath that glowed with an aura even
+brighter than the room. Her blonde hair picked up the radiance and
+glowed, too, illuminating a face that was at once regal, inviting and
+passionate. It was, Forrester thought, a hell of a disturbing
+combination.
+
+The cloth of the dress clung to her figure as if it wanted to. Forrester
+didn't blame it a bit; the dress showed off a figure that was not only
+beyond his wildest dreams, but a long way beyond what he had hitherto
+regarded as the bounds of possibility. From shoulder to toe, she was
+perfection.
+
+This was also true of the woman from shoulder to crown.
+
+Forrester gulped and, automatically, went on one knee.
+
+"Please," he murmured. "Pardon me. I didn't mean--"
+
+"Quite all right," the Goddess murmured. "I understand perfectly."
+
+"But I--"
+
+"Never mind all that now," Venus said, with just a hint of impatience.
+"Rise, William Forrester--or you who were William Forrester."
+
+Forrester rose. Sweat was pouring down his face. He made no effort to
+wipe it away. "Were?" he asked, dazed. "But that's my name!"
+
+"It _was_," Venus said, in the same calm tone. "Henceforth, your name is
+Dionysus."
+
+Forrester took a while to remember to swallow. "Dionysus?" he said at
+last.
+
+There was another silence.
+
+Forrester, feeling that perhaps his first question could use some
+amplification, said: "Dionysus? Bacchus? You mean me?"
+
+"Quite right," Venus said. "That will be your name, and you'd better
+begin getting used to it."
+
+"Now wait a minute!" he said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but
+something occurs to me. I mean, it's the first thing I thought of, and
+I'm probably wrong, but just let me ask the questions, if you don't
+mind, and maybe some of this will make some sense. Because just a few
+hours ago I was doing very nicely on my own and I--"
+
+"What are your questions?" Venus said.
+
+Forrester swayed. "Dionysus/Bacchus himself," he said. "Won't he mind
+my--"
+
+Venus laughed. "Mind your using his name? My goodness, no."
+
+"But--"
+
+"It's all because of the orgies," Venus said.
+
+Everything, he told himself, was getting just a little too much for him.
+"Orgies?" he said.
+
+Venus nodded. "You see, there are all those orgies held in his honor.
+You know about those, of course."
+
+"Sure I do," Forrester said, watching everything narrowly. In just a few
+seconds, he told himself hopefully, the whole room would vanish and he
+would be in a nice, peaceful insane asylum.
+
+"Well, it isn't impossible for a God to be at all the orgies held in his
+honor," Venus said. "Naturally not. But, at the same time, they are all
+rather boring--for a God, I mean. And that's why you're here," she
+finished.
+
+Forrester said: "Oh." And then he said: "Oh?" The room hadn't
+disappeared yet, but he was willing to give it time.
+
+"Dionysus," Venus said patiently, as if she were explaining the matter
+to a small and rather ugly child, "gets tired of appearing at the
+orgies. He wants someone to take his place."
+
+The silence after that sentence was a very long one. Forrester could
+think of nothing to say but: "_Me?_"
+
+"You will be raised to the status of Godling," Venus said. "You remember
+Hercules and Achilles, don't you?"
+
+"Never met them," Forrester said vacantly.
+
+"Naturally," Venus said. "They were, however, ancient heroes, raised to
+the status of Godling, just as you yourself will be. However, you will
+not be honored or worshipped under your own name."
+
+Forrester nodded. "Naturally," he said, wondering what he was talking
+about. There was, he realized, the possibility that he was not insane
+after all, but he didn't want to think about that. It was much too
+painful.
+
+"You will receive instructions in the use of certain powers," Venus
+said. "These will enable you to perform your new duties."
+
+Duties.
+
+The word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus was the God of
+wine, among other things, and women and song had been thrown in as an
+afterthought. The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded just
+a little bit overwhelming.
+
+"These--duties," he said. "Will they be temporary or permanent?"
+
+"Well," Venus said, "that depends." She smiled at him sweetly.
+
+"Depends?"
+
+"So far," Venus said, "our testing shows that you are capable of
+handling certain of the duties to be entrusted to you. But, for the
+rest, everything depends on your own talents and devotion."
+
+"Ah," Forrester said, and then: "Testing?"
+
+"You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an important job like
+this without making certain that he was capable of doing the job, do
+you?"
+
+"Frankly," Forrester said, "I haven't got around to supposing anything
+yet."
+
+Venus smiled again. "We have tested you," she said, "and so far you
+appear perfectly capable of exercising your powers."
+
+Forrester blinked. "Exercising?"
+
+"Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do exceptionally well."
+
+"As a--"
+
+"How does your face feel?" she asked.
+
+"My what?" Forrester said. "Oh. Face. Fine. Street brawls, you said?"
+
+"I did," Venus said. "My goodness, the way you bashed that one bruiser
+with your drink--that was really excellent. As a matter of fact, I feel
+it incumbent on me to tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much in
+years."
+
+Wondering whether he should be complimented or just a little ashamed of
+himself, Forrester said nothing at all. The idea that he had been under
+the personal supervision of Aphrodite herself bothered him more than he
+could say. The brawl was the first thing that came to mind. It didn't
+seem like the sort of thing a Goddess of Love ought to have been
+watching.
+
+And then he thought of the High Priestess.
+
+He felt a blush creeping up around his collar, and was thankful only
+that it was not visible under the tan of his skin. He remembered who had
+ordered the sacrificial rites, and thought bitterly and guiltily about
+spectator sports.
+
+But his face remained perfectly calm.
+
+"So far," Venus said, "I must say that you have come through with flying
+colors. You should be proud of yourself."
+
+Forrester didn't feel exactly proud. He wanted to crawl into a hole and
+die there.
+
+"Well," he said, "I--"
+
+"But there is more," Aphrodite said.
+
+"More?"
+
+The idea didn't sound attractive. In spite of what one of the tests had
+involved, the notion of any more tests was just a little fatiguing.
+Besides, Forrester was not at all sure that he would be at his best,
+when he knew that dispassionate observers were chronicling his technique
+and his every movement.
+
+How much more, he wondered, could he take?
+
+And, he reflected, how much more of _what_?
+
+"We must be certain," Aphrodite said, "that you can prove yourself
+worthy of the dignity of a Godling."
+
+"Ah," Forrester said cleverly. "So there are going to be more tests?"
+
+"There are," Venus said. "After all, you will be expected to act as the
+_alter persona_ of Dionysus. That involves responsibilities almost
+beyond the ken of a mortal."
+
+Wine, Forrester thought wildly, women and song.
+
+He wondered if he were going to be asked to sing something. He couldn't
+remember anything except the _Star Spangled Banner_ and an exceptionally
+silly rhyme from his childhood. Neither of them seemed just right for
+the occasion.
+
+"You must learn to behave as a true God," Venus said. "And we must know
+whether you are fitted for the part."
+
+Forrester nodded. The one thing keeping him sane, he reflected, was the
+hope of insanity. But the room was still there, and Venus was standing
+near him, talking quietly away.
+
+"Thus," she said, "there must be further tests, so that we may be sure
+of your capacities."
+
+Capacities? Just what was _that_ supposed to mean? "I see," he lied.
+"And suppose I fail?"
+
+"Fail?"
+
+"Suppose I don't live up to expectations," Forrester said.
+
+"Well, then," Venus declared, "I'm afraid the Gods might be angry with
+you."
+
+Forrester had no doubt whatever as to the meaning of the words. Either
+he lived up to expectations or he didn't live at all. The Gods' anger
+was not a small affair, and it seldom satisfied itself with small
+results. When a God got angry with you, you simply hoped the result
+would be quick. You didn't really dare hope it would also be temporary.
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had been doing his own
+picking, he thought a little sadly, the job of tryout stand-in for
+Dionysus was not the job he would have chosen. But then, the choice
+wasn't his, and it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.
+
+Unfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn't be laid at the door of
+the Gods. It would be laid at the door of William Forrester, together
+with a nice, big, black funeral wreath.
+
+But it didn't sound too bad at that, he told himself hopefully. After
+all, it wasn't every day that a man was offered the job of stand-in for
+a God, not every day that a man was offered the chance of passing a lot
+of strenuous and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.
+
+He told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but all he could
+think of was the succession of tests still to come. What would they be
+like? How could he ever pass them all? What would be thought necessary
+to establish a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?
+
+Looks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and he certainly had
+those. For a second he almost wished he could see Ed Symes and apologize
+for getting mad when Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.
+
+But then, he reflected, he didn't want to go too far. The idea of
+apologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his sister was, made Forrester's
+gorge rise about five and a half feet.
+
+"However," Aphrodite went on, as if she had just thought of something
+too unimportant to bother mentioning, "don't worry about it. My father's
+thunderbolt needn't concern you. I have every confidence that you will
+prove yourself."
+
+She smiled radiantly at him.
+
+The idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn't think that a
+mortal's mortality was important. But the idea didn't stay long. Being
+reassured by a Goddess, he told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.
+
+Venus was looking him up and down speculatively, and Forrester suddenly
+thought a new test was coming. A little gentle sweat began to break out
+on his forehead again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breath
+and tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The High Priestess had
+been something special but, Forrester thought, she had not really called
+out his _all_. Venus was clearly another matter.
+
+But Venus said only: "Those clothes," in a considering sort of tone.
+
+"Clothes?" Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.
+
+"You certainly can't go in those clothes. Hera would object quite
+violently, I'm afraid. She's awfully stuffy about such things."
+
+The intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester. "Stuffy? Hera?"
+
+"Confidentially," Venus said, "at times, the All-Mother can be an
+absolute bitch."
+
+She went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a part of the light
+seemed to fade as she did so. Of course, she did nothing so crude as
+opening a door. When she started for the wall there was no closet
+apparent there, but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.
+
+It was just that simple.
+
+She took out a white robe and started back. Forrester took his eyes from
+her with an effort and watched the closet disappear again. By the time
+she had reached him, it was only a part of the swirling wall again.
+
+And the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.
+
+She handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but it seemed real
+enough. At any rate, it was as real as anything else that was happening
+to him, he thought.
+
+It was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient Greek _chiton_,
+and open at one side instead of the front. Forrester turned it in his
+hands. At the waist and shoulder there was a golden clasp to hold it in
+place. The clasp wasn't figured in any special way. The material itself
+was odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it was perfectly
+opaque, it was thinner than any paper Forrester had ever seen in public.
+It almost didn't seem to be there when he rubbed it between his thumb
+and forefinger.
+
+"Well, don't just stand there," Venus said. "Get started."
+
+"Started?" Forrester said.
+
+"Get dressed. The others are waiting for you."
+
+"Others?"
+
+But she didn't answer. Forrester looked frantically around the room for
+anything that looked even remotely like a dressing room. As a last
+resort, he was willing to settle for a screen. No room, no screen. He
+was willing to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There was
+none.
+
+He looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he thought, she would leave
+while he dressed. She showed no sign of doing so. He cleared his throat
+and jerked at his collar nervously.
+
+"Now, now," Venus said sternly. "Don't tell me the presence of your
+Goddess embarrasses you." She raised her head imperiously. "Hurry it
+up."
+
+Very slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was, after all,
+nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a matter of fact, Venus
+ought to be getting used to the sight of him undressing by this time.
+
+Somehow, he finally managed to get the _chiton_ on straight. Venus
+looked him over and nodded her approval.
+
+"Come along now," she said. "They're waiting for us. And one thing:
+don't get nervous, for Hera's sake. You're all right."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure. Perfectly all right. Right as rain."
+
+"Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you'll make a fine
+Dionysus."
+
+She led him toward a wall opposite where the closet had been. As they
+approached it, a section of it became bluer and bluer. With a sinking
+feeling, Forrester told himself that he knew what was coming.
+
+He did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue haze of a Veil of
+Heaven, just like the one that had transported him from New York to his
+present position. Where that was, he wasn't entirely sure, but
+remembering his one look out the window, he suspected it was Mount
+Olympus.
+
+But there wasn't any time for thinking. Venus took his hand coolly as
+they reached the blue haze. Then both of them stepped through.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+The room into which they stepped seemed even larger than the one they
+had left. The distances were just as hard to measure, and why Forrester
+had the feeling, he couldn't have said, but it did feel larger. The
+sense of enormous space hung over it.
+
+The wall colors were just the same, however, dripping and changing in a
+continuous flow of patterns, with the little sunbursts and rainbows
+appearing here and there without any visible reason.
+
+But the room itself was comparatively unimportant, Forrester knew. It
+was what went on in the room that sent shivers up his spine, and
+instructed one knee to start knocking against other one. He had heard of
+the Court of the Gods, though as far as he knew no mortal had ever seen
+it. There were certainly no photographs of it, even in the most
+exhaustive travel books.
+
+Forrester knew without question that he was standing in that Courtroom.
+The knowledge did not make him calm. And the beings sitting and
+reclining on couches along the shimmering walls made him feel even
+worse. He recognized every one of them, and every one sent a new shock
+of awe running through his nerves. His stomach felt like a hard rubber
+handball.
+
+There was Zeus All-Father, with his great, silvery, ringleted beard. His
+hands were combing through it and he was frowning majestically into the
+distance. Next to him was the imperious Hera, Mother of the Gods. She
+sat with her hands folded in her lap, as if she were waiting for the end
+of the world to be announced. There was Mars, tough and hairy-chested,
+scratching his side with one hand and scowling horribly. His fierce,
+bearded face looked somehow out of place without the battle helmet that
+usually topped it. The horned and goat-legged Pan was there, and Vulcan,
+crippled and ugly with his squat body and giant arms, reclining like an
+ape on a couch all alone, and motherly looking Ceres using one hand to
+pat her hair as if she, not Forrester, were the nervous one.
+
+Athena was there, too, lovely and gray-eyed. She seemed to be smiling at
+him with special favor, and Forrester felt grateful.
+
+He needed all the help he could get.
+
+But the other Gods were absent. Where were they? Pluto and Phoebus
+Apollo were missing, and so were Mercury, Neptune, Dionysus and Diana.
+
+And ...
+
+"Ah," the great voice of Zeus boomed, as Forrester and Venus stepped
+through the Veil. Forrester heard the voice and shuddered. "The mortal
+is here," Zeus went on in his awe-inspiring roar. "Welcome, Mortal!"
+
+Forrester opened his mouth, but Hera got in ahead of him.
+
+She leaned over to her divine husband and hissed, in a tone audible to
+everyone in the room: "Don't belabor the obvious, dear. Enough's
+enough."
+
+"It is?" Zeus said. The roar was exactly the same. "I'm not at all sure.
+No! Of course not. Naturally not, my dear. Naturally not." He looked
+around slowly, nodding his great head. "Now, now. Let's see. Do we have
+a quorum? I don't see Morpheus. Where's Morpheus?"
+
+"Asleep, as usual," Mars growled. He finished scratching his side and
+began on his beard. "Where else would the old fool be? He's nothing but
+a bore anyway and I say to Hades with him. Let's get on."
+
+"Now, Ares," Pallas Athena said mildly. "Don't be crude."
+
+"Crude?" Mars bellowed. "All I said was that the old bore's not here.
+It's true, isn't it? What in Hades is so crude about it?"
+
+"Hah!" Vulcan growled, in a bass voice that seemed to come from the
+bottom of a large barrel. "Look who mentions being a bore."
+
+"Why, you--" Mars started.
+
+"Children!" Hera snapped at once.
+
+There was quiet, and Forrester had time to get dizzy. Maybe, he thought,
+he had been traveling too much. After all, he had started in New York,
+and then he had found himself on what he suspected was Mount Olympus, in
+Greece. And now he was somewhere else.
+
+He wasn't entirely sure where. The Court of the Gods existed; he knew
+that. But he had never heard just where it existed, and it was entirely
+possible that no mortal knew. In which case, Forrester thought
+confusedly, I don't even know where I am.
+
+For the first time, he began to think seriously that, perhaps, he was
+sane after all. Maybe everything he was seeing and hearing was true. It
+was certainly beginning to look that way. And, in that case, maybe the
+dizziness he felt was just airsickness, or spacesickness, or whatever
+kind of sickness came from traveling through those blue Veils.
+
+At least, he told himself, thinking of the old man he had met on the way
+downtown, at least it beat the subway.
+
+He looked behind him. He and Venus were standing in the center of the
+room. There was no blue veil behind them. It had, apparently, done its
+duty and gone away.
+
+The subway, Forrester told himself solemnly, didn't do that.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat ponderously. "I count eight of us," he said.
+"Eight, all told. Of course, that's eight without the mortal." He
+paused, and then added: "If you count the mortal in, there are nine."
+
+Pan stirred. "That's a quorum," he announced in a hoarse voice that had
+a heavy vibrato in it. It reminded Forrester, oddly, of the bleating of
+a goat. Pan crossed his legs and his hooves clashed, striking sparks.
+"Pluto and Poseidon said they'd accept our judgment."
+
+"Why the absence?" Vulcan said shortly.
+
+"A storm, I think," Pan said. "Out in the North Atlantic, if memory
+serves--and it does. As far as I recall, there are four ships sunk so
+far. Quite an affair."
+
+Vulcan said: "Ah," and reclined again.
+
+Hera leaned forward. "Where's Apollo? He said he might come."
+
+"Sure he did," Mars said heavily. "Old Sunshine Boy never misses a bit
+of excitement. Only he probably found something even more exciting. He's
+in California, all dressed up as a mortal."
+
+"California?" Ceres said. "My goodness, what would that boy be doing in
+California?"
+
+Mars guffawed. "Probably showing off--how Sunshine Boy loves to show
+off! Displaying that gorgeous body to the girls on Muscle Beach, I'll
+bet."
+
+"Eight to five," Pan said at once.
+
+Mars turned to him and nodded shortly. "Done."
+
+"Now, if I were a betting man," Vulcan began in a thoughtful bass,
+"I'd--"
+
+"We all know what you'd do, Gimpy," Mars roared. "But you won't do it,
+so shut up about it."
+
+"Please," Hera said. "Order." Her voice was like chilled steel. The
+others settled back. "I think we're ready. Shall we begin, dear?" She
+looked at Zeus, who got ready to start. But before he could get a word
+out, there was a flicker of blue energy in the room, a couple of yards
+away from Forrester and Venus. The flicker expanded to a Veil, and a man
+stepped out of it.
+
+He was a short, fat individual wearing a _chiton_ as if he had slept in
+it for three or four weeks. His face was puffy and his golden hair was
+ruffled. His eyelids seemed to have acquired a permanent half-mast, and
+beneath them the eyes were bleary and disinterested.
+
+Forrester needed no introductions to Morpheus, the God of Sleep.
+
+The God looked around at the assembled company with a kindly little
+smile on his tired face. Then, slowly and luxuriously, he yawned. When
+his mouth closed again, after a view of caverns measureless to man, he
+rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, and then heaved a great sigh and,
+apparently, resigned himself to the terrible effort of speech.
+
+"I'm late," he said. "But it's really not my fault."
+
+"Oh?" Hera said in a nasty tone of voice.
+
+Morpheus shook his head slowly from side to side. "It really isn't." His
+voice was terribly calm. It was obvious, Forrester thought, that he did
+not give a damn. "The alarm just didn't seem to go off again. Or else I
+didn't hear it."
+
+"Now, Morpheus," Hera said. "I should think you'd get some kind of alarm
+that really worked, after all this time."
+
+"Why bother?" Morpheus said, and shrugged ponderously. "Anyhow, I'm
+here." He yawned again. "The thing's tiresome, but I did say I'd be
+here, and here I am. Now, does that satisfy everybody? Because if it
+doesn't, I do have some sleep to catch up on."
+
+"It satisfies us all," Hera said with some asperity. "Go sit down."
+
+Morpheus shambled quietly over to a couch near Mars. He lowered himself
+onto it, and slowly slipped from a sitting position to a reclining one.
+
+"Well," Hera said to Zeus, "we're ready, dear."
+
+"Oh," Zeus said. "Oh. Certainly. I declare this meeting--I declare this
+meeting fully met." He cleared his throat with a rumble that shook the
+air. "We're here, as I suppose you all know, to consider the problem of
+William Forrester. But first, I am reminded of a little story I picked
+up on Earth, and in the hopes that some of you here might not have heard
+it, I--"
+
+"We've heard it," Hera said, "and, anyhow, this is neither the time nor
+the place."
+
+Zeus turned to look at her. He shrugged. "Very well," he said equably.
+"Let us return to William Forrester, as a possible substitute for
+Dionysus. The first consideration ought to be the psychological records,
+wouldn't you say?"
+
+"I would," Hera said through her teeth.
+
+"I believe Athena is in charge of that department, and if she is ready
+to report--"
+
+"Of course she's ready," Hera said, "dear."
+
+Zeus nodded. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"
+
+Athena got up and faced the company. "In general," she began at once, "I
+think we can pass the candidate completely on the psychological records.
+The Index of Subordination is low, but we don't want one too high for
+this post. Too, the Beta curve shows a good deal of variation, a
+Dionysian characteristic. There is, perhaps, a stronger sense of
+responsibility than is recorded in the Dionysian index, but this may not
+be a handicap."
+
+"By no means," Hera said. "Responsibility is something we could all do
+with more of, around here." She shot a poisonous glance at Morpheus,
+whose eyes were now completely closed.
+
+Forrester, busily wondering what his Beta curve was, and why it varied,
+and what he would do if he lost it and had to get another one, missed
+the next few words of Athena's report. The word that did impinge on his
+consciousness did so with a shock.
+
+"Sex," Athena said. "But, after all, that is not quite in my
+department." She looked as if she were very glad of the fact. "In
+general, as I say, the psychological tests present no insuperable
+barriers."
+
+"Fine," Hera said. She dug Zeus in the ribs again.
+
+"Oh," Zeus said. "Yes. Fine."
+
+"Next," Hera said.
+
+"Yes," Zeus said. "By all means. Next."
+
+Mars got up. He was now scratching the hair on his chest. He looked
+around at the others with a definitely unfriendly expression.
+
+"The physical department is mine," he said. "The candidate can handle
+himself, all right. There isn't much doubt of it." He burped, wiped his
+mouth with the back of one hand, and went on: "Of course, he's let
+himself run to fat a little here and there, but it isn't really serious.
+Mainly a matter of glandular balance or something like that, as far as I
+understand Hermes' report."
+
+Forrester began to feel like a prize chicken.
+
+"And physical training," Mars said. "Well, there hasn't _been_ any
+training, that's all. And that's bad."
+
+"He is not being considered for your position," Vulcan said. "One
+muscular brainless imbecile is enough."
+
+Mars took a deep breath.
+
+"Please," Hera said. "Continue the report."
+
+The breath came out in an explosion. "All right," Mars said.
+"Discounting the training end of things, and assuming that Hermes can
+fix up the glandular mess, I think he can pass the physical."
+
+Forrester wasn't sure that he liked being referred to as a glandular
+mess. On the other hand, he asked himself, what could he do about it? He
+stood quietly, wondering what was coming next.
+
+His worst fears were fulfilled.
+
+Venus stepped forward and gave her report. Basically, it was a codicil,
+of a rather specialized nature, to the physical report. While it was
+going on, Forrester glanced at Athena. She looked every bit as
+embarrassed as he felt, and her face wore a look of sheer pain. Once he
+thought she was going to leave the room, but she remained grimly seated
+until it was all over.
+
+Forrester couldn't figure out, when he thought about it, how the Gods
+had managed to give him all these tests without his knowing anything
+about it. But, then, they were supernatural, weren't they? And they had
+their own methods. A mortal didn't have to understand them.
+
+Forrester wasn't sure he was happy with that idea, but he clung to it.
+It was the only one he had.
+
+When Venus finished her report, there was a little silence.
+
+"Any other comments?" Hera whispered to her husband.
+
+"Ah, yes," Zeus said. "Other comments. If anyone has any other comments
+to make, please make them now. Now is the time to make them."
+
+He sat back. Morpheus stirred slightly and spoke without opening his
+eyes or sitting up. "Sleep," he said.
+
+Hera said: "Sleep?"
+
+"Very important," Morpheus said slowly, "the candidate sleeps pretty
+well--soundly, as a matter of fact. The only trouble is that he doesn't
+get enough sleep. But then, no one on this entire crazy world ever
+does." He yawned and added: "Not even me."
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. He realized, very suddenly,
+that he had come to a conclusion somewhere during the meeting. He was,
+he told himself, definitely sane.
+
+That left another conclusion. He was not dreaming anything that was
+happening. It was all perfectly real.
+
+And he was about to become a demi-God.
+
+That in itself didn't sound so bad. But he began to wonder, in a quiet
+sort of way, just what was going to happen to William Forrester,
+acolyte and history professor, when Forrester/Bacchus had became a
+reality. With a blunt shock he knew that there was only one answer.
+
+William Forrester was going to die.
+
+It didn't matter what the verdict of the Gods was. There were more tests
+coming, he knew, and if he failed them the Gods would kill him quite
+literally and quite completely.
+
+But, he went on, suppose he passed the tests.
+
+In that case he was going to become Forrester/Bacchus, a substitute God.
+Plain old Bill Forrester would cease to exist entirely.
+
+Oh, a few traces might remain--his Beta curve, for instance, whatever
+that was. But Bill Forrester would be gone. Somehow, the idea of a
+revenant Beta curve didn't make up for the basic loss.
+
+On the other hand, he reminded himself again, what choice did he have?
+
+None.
+
+He forced himself to listen to what the Gods were saying.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat. "Well, I think that closes the subject. Am I
+right, dear?"
+
+"You are," Hera said.
+
+"Very well," Zeus said. "Then the subject is closed, isn't it?"
+
+Hera nodded wearily.
+
+"In that case, we can proceed with the investiture. Hephaestus, will you
+please take charge of the candidate?"
+
+Hephaestus/Vulcan sighed softly. "I suppose I must." He swung off the
+couch and stood half-crouched for a second. Forrester looked at him
+blankly. "Well," Vulcan said, "come on." He jerked his head toward
+Forrester. "Over here."
+
+With one last backward glance at Venus, Forrester walked across the
+room. Vulcan turned and hobbled ahead of him toward the wall. Forrester
+followed until, almost at the wall, a Veil of Heaven appeared. Feeling
+almost used to the thing by now, Forrester followed Vulcan through, and
+he didn't even look behind him to see if the Veil had vanished after
+they'd come through. He knew perfectly well it had. It always did.
+
+The room they had entered was similar to the others he had seen, but
+there was no change of colors. The walls glowed evenly and with a
+subdued light that filled the room evenly. And, for the first time, the
+walls weren't simply blanks that became things only when approached. The
+strangest-looking objects Forrester had ever seen filled benches,
+tables, chairs and the floor, and some were even tacked to the glowing
+walls. He stared at them for a long time.
+
+No two were alike. They seemed to be all sizes, shapes and materials.
+The only thing they really had in common was that they were
+unrecognizable. They looked, Forrester thought, as if a truckload of
+non-objective twentieth-century sculpture had collided with another
+truck full of old television-set innards. Then, in some way, the two
+trucks had fallen in love and had children.
+
+The scrambled horrors scattered throughout the room were, Forrester told
+himself bleakly, the children.
+
+Vulcan sat down on the only empty chair with a sigh. "This is my
+workshop," he announced gravely. "It is not arranged for visitors, nor
+for the curious. I must advise you to touch nothing, if you wish to save
+your hands, your sanity, and very possibly your life."
+
+Forrester nodded dumbly. Vulcan's tone hadn't been unfriendly; he had
+merely been warning a stranger, in the shortest and clearest manner
+possible, against the dangers of feeling the merchandise. Not, Forrester
+thought, that the warning was necessary. He would as soon have thought
+of trying to fly as he would of touching one of the mixed-up looking
+things.
+
+"Now," Vulcan said, "if you'll--" He stopped. "Pardon me," he said, and
+levered himself upright. He went to a chair, swept a few constructions
+from it and put them carefully on a table. "Sit down," he said,
+motioning to the chair.
+
+Gingerly, Forrester sat down.
+
+Vulcan returned to his own chair and climbed onto it. "Now let us get to
+business."
+
+"Business?" Forrester said.
+
+"Oh, yes," Vulcan said. "I imagine you were pretty well bewildered for a
+while. No more than natural. But I think you've figured it out by now.
+You know you are going to be given the powers of a demi-God, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. But--"
+
+"Do not worry about it," Vulcan said. "The powers are--simply powers.
+They are not burdens. At any rate, they will not be burdensome to you.
+We know that--we have researched you to a fine point, as you may have
+gathered from the fol-de-rol back there." He gestured toward his right,
+evidently indicating the Court of the Gods.
+
+"But," Forrester said, "suppose I'm not what your tests say. I mean,
+suppose I--"
+
+"There is no need for supposition. Beyond any shadow of doubt, we know
+how you, as a mortal, will react to any conceivable set of
+circumstances."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "But--"
+
+"Precisely. You have realized what yet needs to be done. We know what
+your abilities and limitations are--_as a mortal_. The tests you have
+yet to pass are concerned with your actions and reactions as a
+demi-God."
+
+Forrester swallowed hard. He felt as if he were on a moving
+roller-coaster. No matter how badly he wanted to get off, it was
+impossible to do so. He had to remain while the car hurtled on.
+
+And where was he going?
+
+The Gods, he told himself with more than ordinary meaning, knew.
+
+"The power which is to be infused into you," Vulcan said, "if you don't
+mind the loose terminology--"
+
+"I don't mind in the least," Forrester assured him earnestly. "Not in
+the least."
+
+"The power infused into you will make some changes. These will not only
+be physical changes. Mental changes must be expected."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Mental changes."
+
+"Correct. Physically, you see, you will become what no mortal can ever
+quite be: a perfectly functioning biological engine. Every sinew, nerve
+and muscle, every organ and gland, every tissue in your body will be in
+perfect harmonic balance with every other. Metabolically speaking, your
+catabolism and anabolism will be in such perfect balance that aging will
+not be possible."
+
+Forrester thought that over. "I'll be immortal," he said.
+
+"In that sense of the word," Vulcan said, "you will. You will be, as a
+matter of fact, quite a good deal tougher, stronger and harder than any
+animal now existing on the face of the Earth. I must except, of course,
+a few of the really big ones, like the elephant and the killer whale."
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. "Sure."
+
+"But make no mistake. You can still be killed. A bullet through the
+heart will not do the job; it will merely incapacitate you for a few
+hours. But if you were to have your head blown off by a grenade, you
+would be quite dead. Remember that."
+
+"I don't see how I could forget it."
+
+"You will heal with incredible rapidity, but there are limitations.
+Anything that pushes the balance too far will be fatal. You can lose a
+hand or even an arm without serious harm; the missing member will be
+regrown. But if you were to fall into a large meat-grinder--"
+
+"I get the idea," Forrester said, feeling pale green.
+
+"Good," Vulcan said. "However, there is more."
+
+"_More?_"
+
+"There are certain other powers to be given you in addition. You will
+learn of these later."
+
+Forrester nodded blankly.
+
+"Now," Vulcan said, "all these physical changes will have a definite
+effect upon your psychological outlook, as I imagine you can plainly
+see."
+
+Forrester thought about it. "Well--"
+
+"Let us suppose that you are a coward who has avoided fights all his
+life. Now you are given these powers. What will happen?"
+
+"I'll be strong."
+
+"Exactly. You will be strong. And because you are strong, and almost
+indestructible, you suddenly decide that you can now get your revenge on
+the people who have pushed you around."
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "I--"
+
+"You begin to look for fights," Vulcan said. "You go around beating up
+everyone you can find, simply because you now know you can get away with
+it. Do you understand me?"
+
+"I guess so."
+
+"A man with a vicious streak in him would be intolerable in this
+position. Can you see that? Take an example: Ares. Mars is a tough God,
+hard and at times brutal. But he is not vicious."
+
+Forrester was a little surprised to hear Vulcan say anything nice about
+Mars. He knew, as everyone did, the long history of ill-will and
+positive hatred the two had built up between them. It had begun soon
+after Vulcan's marriage to Aphrodite/Venus.
+
+He hadn't been a cripple then, of course. For a while, he and Venus had
+had a fine time. But Venus, apparently, just wasn't satisfied with the
+dull normal routine of married life. None of the Gods seemed to be, as a
+matter of fact. Either they were altogether too married, like Zeus, or
+else they weren't married enough, like Venus. Or else they were like
+Diana and Athena, indifferent to marriage.
+
+At any rate, Venus had begun looking around for fresh talent. And the
+fresh talent had been right there ready to sign up for a long contract
+on a strictly extra-legal basis.
+
+One day Vulcan caught them at it, his wife and Mars. Vulcan was angry,
+but Mars didn't exactly like to be interrupted, either, and he was a
+little faster on the draw. He tossed Vulcan over a nearby cliff,
+crippling him for good.
+
+And as for Aphrodite--who knew? It was entirely possible that, by this
+time, the Goddess of Love had run through the entire list of Gods and
+was now at work on the mortals.
+
+Forrester wasn't entirely sure he disliked the idea, on a simple
+physical level. But there was more than that to it, of course; there was
+Vulcan. Forrester found himself liking the solemn, positive workman. He
+didn't want to hurt him.
+
+And a liaison with Venus was certain to do just that.
+
+He came back to the present to hear Vulcan still discoursing. "Also,"
+the God said, "changes in glandular balance must be made. These changes
+have a necessary effect on the brain. The personality changes subtly,
+though I can assure you that the change is not a marked one." He paused.
+"For all these reasons," he finished, "I am sure that you can see why we
+must subject you to further tests."
+
+"I understand," Forrester said vaguely.
+
+"Good. Now, you will not know whether a given incident--any given
+incident--is a perfectly natural occurrence or a test imposed on you by
+the Pantheon. Can you understand that?"
+
+Forrester nodded.
+
+Vulcan levered himself upright, his ugly face smiling just a little.
+"And remember what I have told you. No worrying. You don't even know
+just what any given test is supposed to accomplish, so you can't know
+whether the action you choose is right or wrong. Therefore, worrying
+will do nothing for you. You will be at your best if you simply behave
+naturally."
+
+"I'll try."
+
+"Remember, also, that you were picked not merely for your physical
+resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well.
+Therefore, playing his part should be comparatively simple for you.
+Right?"
+
+"I guess so," Forrester said, feeling both expectant and a little
+hopeless about it all.
+
+"Fine," Vulcan said. "Now wait one moment." He turned and limped over to
+a structure that looked like a sort of worktable. When he came back, he
+was carrying several objects in his big hands. He selected one, an ovoid
+about the size of a marble, colored a dull orange, and handed it to
+Forrester. "Swallow that."
+
+Forrester took it cautiously. As soon as he found out what he was
+supposed to do with the thing, its dimensions seemed to grow. It looked
+about the size of a golf ball in his shaking hands.
+
+"_Swallow_ it?" he said tentatively.
+
+"Correct," Vulcan said.
+
+"But--"
+
+"This object is a--well, call it a talisman. It will not dissolve, and
+it is recoverable, but for the Investiture it must be inside you."
+
+"But--"
+
+"You will find it so easy to swallow that you will need no water. Go
+ahead."
+
+Forrester put the thing in his mouth and swallowed once, just to test
+Vulcan's statement. The effect was surprising. He could barely feel it
+leave his tongue, and he couldn't feel it go down at all. He swallowed
+again, experimentally, and explored the inside of his mouth with his
+tongue.
+
+"It is gone," Vulcan said. "Good."
+
+"It's gone, all right," Forrester said wonderingly.
+
+"The sandals are next." Vulcan selected a pair of sandals with rather
+thick soles and handed them over. They were apparently made of gold.
+Forrester obediently strapped them on, and Vulcan next handed him a pair
+of golden cylinders indented to fit his curved fingers.
+
+"You hold these very tightly," Vulcan said. "During the Investiture, you
+must grip them as hard as you can." He peered closely at them and
+pointed to one. "This one goes in the left hand. The other goes in the
+right. Squeeze them as if--as if you were trying to crush them. All
+right?"
+
+"All right," Forrester said.
+
+Vulcan nodded. "Good. From this moment on, do exactly as you are told.
+Answer questions truthfully. Keep nothing secret. Remember my
+instructions."
+
+"Right," Forrester said doubtfully.
+
+"Come on," Vulcan said, heading for the wall. The inevitable Veil of
+Heaven appeared, and Forrester followed through it as before.
+
+The room they entered was not, he thought, the same one they had been in
+before. Or, if it was, it had changed a great deal. It was difficult to
+tell anything for sure; the shifting walls looked the same, but they
+also looked like the shifting walls in Venus' apartments.
+
+At any rate, there were now no couches on the floor. The room seemed
+even bigger than before, and when the walls settled down to a steady
+golden glow, Forrester felt lost in the immensity of the place. In the
+center of the room was a raised golden dais. It was about five feet
+across and nearly three feet high.
+
+The Gods were ranged around it in a semicircle, facing him. Vulcan
+slipped into an empty space in the line, and Forrester stood perfectly
+alone, holding the cylinders.
+
+Zeus cleared his throat. "Step up on the dais," he said.
+
+Stumbling slightly, Forrester managed to do so without losing his grip
+on the cylinders.
+
+In the center of the raised platform, with the Gods staring at him, he
+felt like something under a microscope.
+
+"William Forrester," Zeus said, and he shuddered. The All-Father's voice
+had never been more powerful. "William Forrester, from this moment
+onward you will renounce your present name. You will be known as
+Dionysus the Lesser until and unless it shall please us to confer
+another name on you. Henceforth, you will be, in part, a recipient of
+the worship due to Dionysus, and you will hold the rank of demi-God. Do
+you accept these judgments and this honor?"
+
+Forrester gulped. A long time seemed to pass. At last he found his
+voice. "I do," he said.
+
+"Very well," Zeus said.
+
+The Gods joined hands and closed the circle around Forrester,
+surrounding him completely. The golden auras that shone about their
+bodies grew more and more bright. Forrester clutched the golden
+cylinders tightly.
+
+Then, very suddenly, there was an explosion of light. Forrester thought
+he had staggered, but he was never sure. Everything was too bright to
+see. Dizziness began, and grew.
+
+The room whirled and tipped. Somewhere a great organlike note began, and
+went on and on.
+
+Forrester convulsed with the force of a single great burst of energy
+that crashed through his nervous system.
+
+And then, in a timeless instant, everything went black.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+
+The morning of the Autumn Bacchanal dawned bright and clear--thanks to
+the intervention of the Pantheon. In New York, the leaves were only just
+beginning to turn, and the sun was still high enough in the sky to make
+the afternoons warm and pleasant. Zeus All-Father had promised good
+weather for the festival, and a strong, warm wind from the Gulf of
+Mexico was moving out the crisp autumn air before the sun had risen an
+hour above the horizon.
+
+The practicing that had gone on in thousands of homes throughout the
+city was at an end. The Autumn Bacchanal was here at last, and the
+Beginning Service, which had started in the little Temple-on-the-Green
+right at dawn, when the sun's rays had first touched the tops of New
+York's towers, was approaching its end. The people clustered in the
+building, and the incomparably greater number scattered outside it, were
+feeling the first itch of restlessness.
+
+Soon the Grand Procession would begin, starting as always from the
+Temple-on-the-Green and wending its slow way northward to the upper end
+of Central Park at 110th Street. Then the string of worshippers would
+turn and head back for the Temple at the lower end of the Park, with
+fanfare and pageantry on a scale calculated to do honor to the God of
+the festival, to outshine not only every other festival, but every past
+year of the Autumn Bacchanal itself.
+
+The Autumn Bacchanal was devoted to the celebration of the harvest, and
+more specifically the harvest and processing of the grape. All the
+wineries for hundreds of miles around had shipped hogshead after
+hogshead and barrel after barrel of fine wine--red, white, rose, still,
+or sparkling--as joyous sacrifice to Dionysus/Bacchus, and in thanks
+that the fertility rites of the Vernal Bacchanal had brought them good
+crops. Wine flowed from everywhere into the city, and now the immense
+reserves were stacked away, awaiting the revels. Even the brewers and
+distillers had sent along their wares, from the mildest beer to vodka of
+120 proof, joining unselfishly in the celebration even though,
+technically, they were not under Dionysian protection at all, but were
+the wards of Ceres, the Goddess of grain.
+
+Celebrants, liquors, chants, preparations, balloons, confetti, edibles
+and all the other appurtenances of the festival spiraled dizzyingly
+upward, reaching proportions unheard of throughout history. And, in a
+back room at the Temple-on-the-Green, the late William Forrester sat,
+trying to forget all about them, and suffering from a continuous case of
+nerves.
+
+Diana marched up and down in front of him, smacking her left fist into
+her calloused little right palm. "Now listen," she said crisply. "I know
+you're all hot and bothered, kid, but there's no reason to be. You're
+doing fine. They love you out there."
+
+"Sure I am," Forrester said, unconvinced.
+
+"Well, you are," Diana said. "You just got to have confidence, that's
+all. Keep your spirits up. Tried singing?"
+
+"Singing?"
+
+"Singing, kid. Raises the spirits."
+
+Forrester blinked. "Really?"
+
+"Take it from me," Diana said. "How about Tenting Tonight?"
+
+"How about what?"
+
+"Tenting Tonight," Diana said. "You know."
+
+"I--guess I do." Forrester wished that Diana would do more than treat
+him like a pal. She was a remarkably beautiful woman, if you liked the
+type, and Forrester liked virtually any type.
+
+Now, success appeared to be within his grasp. But it did seem an odd
+time to bring the subject up. Oh, well, he thought, maybe she was just
+trying to cheer him up and had picked this way of doing it.
+
+It worked, too, he told himself happily.
+
+He cleared his throat. "Where?"
+
+Diana stared. "Where?"
+
+"That's right," Forrester said. Something was going wrong but he
+couldn't discover what it was. "The tenting."
+
+"Oh," Diana said. "Right here. Now. Raises the spirits."
+
+"I should say it does!" Forrester agreed enthusiastically. "But after
+all--right here--"
+
+"Don't worry about it, kid. Nobody will hear you."
+
+"_Hear_ me?"
+
+"Anyway, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people do it when they
+feel low."
+
+"I'll bet they do," Forrester said. "But it's different with you and
+me."
+
+"Me?" Diana said. "What do I have to do with it? I just told you--"
+
+"Well, sure. And here and now is as good a time and place as any."
+
+Diana stepped back a pace. "Okay, let's hear it. Sing!"
+
+"Sing? You mean I have to sing for my--"
+
+"I'll join you," Diana said.
+
+Forrester nodded. He was beginning to get confused. "You'd better," he
+said.
+
+"_Tenting tonight on the old camp grounds_," she sang. "Now come on."
+
+Forrester coughed. "Oh," he said. "Sing."
+
+"Sure," Diana said, and they went through the song together. "How about
+another chorus?" she asked.
+
+"It's all right, Diana," Forrester said, knowing she preferred the name
+to her Greek one of Artemis. "I feel fine now."
+
+"Well," Diana said in a disappointed voice, "all right."
+
+What surprised Forrester most was that he _did_ feel fine. All the Gods
+had helped him in the past several months, but Diana had been especially
+helpful. As a forest Goddess, and as Protectress of the Night, she'd
+been able to tell him a lot about how an orgy was arranged. He had often
+wished that she would teach by example, but now, he discovered, it was
+too late for wishing.
+
+She was, he told himself with only faint regret, just like a sister to
+him. Or even a brother.
+
+"I guess everything will be okay," he said. "Won't it?"
+
+Diana clapped him on the back. "You're going to be great. Just go out
+there and show 'em what kind of a God you are."
+
+"But what kind of a God am I?"
+
+"Just keep cool, kid. You won't fail me--I know it."
+
+"I'll try," Forrester said. "Only I'm getting nervous just sitting
+around here. I wish we could go out and stroll around; we've got plenty
+of time, anyhow."
+
+Diana nodded. "It's ten minutes yet before the Procession starts. I
+suppose we might as well take a look around, kid, if it makes you feel
+better."
+
+"It might."
+
+"Fine, then. But how do you want to go?"
+
+Forrester blinked. "How?"
+
+"Invisibility," Diana said, "or incognito?"
+
+"Oh," Forrester said. Then he added: "You're asking me?"
+
+"Of course I am, kid. Now, look: this is your celebration, remember?
+You're Dionysus. Got it? Even in my presence, you act the part now. You
+ought to know that."
+
+"Well, sure, but--"
+
+"Keep this in mind. These people haven't had a Sabbatical Bacchanal in
+seven years. Every seven years they get to see their God--and this year
+you're it. Right?"
+
+"I guess so. But--"
+
+"No buts," Diana said. "You're the boss and they're your worshippers.
+That's all there is to it. Now, you've got to make up your mind. What'll
+it be?"
+
+Forrester thought. "Well," he said at last, "I guess it had better be
+incognito. With this crowd, there's too much likelihood of getting
+bumped into if we're invisible. Right?"
+
+Diana grinned. "That's the boy! You're thinking straight now!"
+
+Forrester had the sudden feeling that he had just passed another test.
+But he didn't quite dare ask about it "All right," he said instead.
+"Let's go."
+
+He put his mind to work concentrating on the special faculties that his
+demi-God power gave him. His face began to change. He looked less and
+less like Dionysus as the seconds went by, and more and more like
+William Forrester. At the same time, the golden aura around his body
+began to fade. After a few minutes he looked like William Forrester
+completely, a nice enough guy but pretty much of a nonentity.
+
+Diana, with the greater power of a true Goddess, achieved the same sort
+of result almost instantly. Her aura was gone and the sparkle had left
+her eyes. Her brown hair looked a little mousy now, and her face was
+merely pretty instead of being gloriously beautiful.
+
+"Just one thing," Forrester said. "We'd better make ourselves invisible
+just to leave the Temple. Somebody might suspect we weren't ordinary
+people at all."
+
+"Right again," Diana smiled. She nodded her head and blinked out.
+
+Forrester could still see a cloudy outline of her in the room, but he
+knew that was because he was a demi-God, with special powers. An
+ordinary mortal, he knew, would see nothing at all.
+
+He followed her into invisibility and walked out the back door of the
+Temple-on-the-Green. The door was open and two Temple Myrmidons, wearing
+the golden grape-clusters of Dionysus on their shoulder patches, stood
+outside the door. Neither of them saw Forrester and Diana leave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three minutes later, they were standing near the doorway of the Temple,
+watching the preparations for the Grand Procession. The fifty priests of
+Dionysus gathered there while the enormous crowd pushed and shoved to
+get a better view of the ritual. The sacrifice of the first fruits had
+been completed, and now, at the door of the Temple, each of the fifty
+priests filled a chalice from a huge hogshead of purple wine.
+
+They chanted a prayer in unison and spilled half the wine on the ground
+as a libation. Then they lifted the chalices to their lips and drank,
+finishing the other half in one long motion.
+
+The chalices were set down, and a cheer rose from the crowd.
+
+The Bacchanal had begun!
+
+The priests separated into two equal groups. Twenty-five of them started
+northward, marching to their positions at regularly spaced intervals in
+the procession. The remaining twenty-five stayed behind, ready to
+accompany Dionysus himself at the tail of the parade.
+
+Each of the other Gods was represented by a special detachment of ten
+Myrmidons, each contingent wearing the distinctive shoulder patch of the
+God it served: the thunderbolt of Zeus, the blazing sun of Apollo, the
+pipes of Pan, the sword of Mars, the hammer of Vulcan, the poppy of
+Morpheus, the winged foot of Mercury, the trident of Neptune, the
+cerberus of Pluto, the peacock of Hera, the owl of Athena, the dove of
+Venus, the crescent of Diana, and the sprig of wheat that represented
+Mother Ceres. The Myrmidons grinned in expectation of the good times
+coming; a Dionysian festival was always something special, and
+competition for the contingents was always tough.
+
+There were balloons everywhere, as the crowd shoved and pushed into the
+line of march. Someone was bawling an old song about the lack of liquor,
+and the strident voice carried over the shouts and halloos of the mob:
+
+"_How dry I am--_"
+
+Forrester and Diana, now visible, pushed their way through the crowds. A
+man flung his arm around the Goddess with abandon, shouting something
+indistinguishable; Diana shook him off gently and went on. Forrester
+almost tripped over a small boy sitting on the grass and crying. A
+Myrmidon was standing over him, and the child's mother was trying to
+lift the boy.
+
+"I wanna go to the orgy," the boy kept saying. "I wanna go to the orgy."
+
+"Next year," the mother told him. "Next year, child, when you're six."
+
+The Myrmidon lifted the child and carried him away. The mother shouted
+an address after him, and the Myrmidon nodded, pushed his way through a
+gesticulating group of celebrants and disappeared in the direction of
+Central Park West. There, other Dionysian Myrmidons were patrolling,
+making sure that no non-Dionysian got in except by special invitation.
+Any non-Dionysian who wanted to celebrate was supposed to do it on the
+streets of the city, and not in Central Park, which was going to be
+crowded enough with legitimate revelers.
+
+The shouting and screaming went on, people pushing and shoving, confetti
+beginning to drift like a light snow over the worshippers. One man held
+five balloons and a cigarette, and he was popping the balloons with the
+cigarette tip, one by one. Every time one of the balloons exploded, a
+group of women and girls around him shrieked and laughed.
+
+Forrester turned back. Behind a convenient bush, he and Diana made
+themselves invisible again, and re-entered the Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+The silence inside the Temple was deafening.
+
+"The noise out there could break eardrums," Forrester complained. "I've
+never heard anything like it."
+
+"Just wait," Diana told him. "The music will start any time now--and
+then you'll _really_ hear something." She paused. "Ready?"
+
+Forrester glanced down at himself. "I guess so. How do I look?" He had
+constructed a golden _chiton_ and mentally clothed himself in it. It was
+covered by a grape-purple cloak embroidered with golden grapevines. And
+around his head a circlet of woven grapevines had appeared, made of
+solid gold. It was a little heavier than Forrester had expected it would
+be, but it lent him, he thought, rather a dashing air.
+
+"Great," Diana said. "Just great."
+
+"Think so?" Forrester said, feeling rather pleased.
+
+"Sure you do. Now go out there and give 'em the old college try."
+
+Forrester gulped. "How about you?"
+
+"Me? I'm on my way out of here. This is your show, kid. Make the most of
+it."
+
+Forrester watched her go out the rear door. He was alone. And the Autumn
+Bacchanal Processional was about to begin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+
+Noise! Forrester, seated in the great golden palanquin supported by
+twelve hefty Priests of Dionysus, had never seen or heard anything like
+it. He waited there on the steps of the little Temple-on-the-Green for
+the Procession to wind by, so that he could take his place at the end of
+it. But the Procession looked endless.
+
+First came a corps of Priests and Myrmidons, leading their way stolidly
+through the paths of Central Park. Following them came the revelers, a
+mass of men and women marching, laughing, singing, shouting, dancing
+their way along to the accompaniment of more music than Forrester had
+ever dreamed of.
+
+The Dionysians had practiced for months, and almost everything was
+represented. There were violinists prancing along, violists and a crew
+of long-haired gentlemen and ladies playing the viol da gamba and the
+viol d'amore; there were guitarists plunking madly away, banjo players
+strumming and ukelele addicts picking at their strings, somehow all
+chorusing together. In a special pair of floats there were bass players,
+bass fiddle players and cellists, jammed tightly together and somehow
+managing to draw enormous sounds and scratches out of the big
+instruments. And behind them came the main band of musicians.
+
+The woodwinds followed: piccolo players piping, flutists fluting, oboe
+players, red-cheeked and glassy-eyed, concentrating on making the most
+piercing possible sounds, men playing English horns, clarinets, bass
+clarinets, bassoons and contra-bassoons, along with men playing serpents
+and, behind them, a dancing group fingering ocarinas and adding their
+bit to the general tumult, and two women tootling madly away on
+hoarse-sounding zootibars.
+
+And then, near the center of the musicians, were the brass: trumpets and
+trumpets-a-piston, trombones and valve trombones and Fulk horns, all
+blatting away to split the sky with maddening sound, Sousaphones and
+saxophones and French horns and bass horns and hunting horns, and tubas
+along in their own little cart, six round-cheeked men lost in the curves
+of the great instruments, valiantly blowing away as they rolled by into
+the woods of the park, making the city itself resound with tremendous
+noise and shattering cadence. And behind them was the battery.
+
+Kettle drums, bass drums, xylophones, Chinese gongs, vibraphones, snare
+drums and high-hat cymbals paraded by in carts, banged and stroked and
+tinkled enthusiastically by crew after crew of maddened tympanists. And
+then came the others, on foot: tambourines and wood blocks and parade
+cymbals and castanets. At the tail of this portion of the Procession
+came a single old man wearing spectacles and riding in a small cart
+drawn by a donkey. He had white hair and he was playing on a series of
+water-glasses filled to various levels. His ear was cocked toward the
+glasses with painstaking care. He was entirely inaudible in the general
+din, but he looked happy and satisfied; he was doing his bit.
+
+After him followed a group of entirely naked men and women playing
+sackbuts, and another group playing recorders. Bringing up the rear, as
+the Procession curved, was a magnificent aggregation of men and women
+yowling away on bagpipes of all shapes and sizes. All of the men wore
+sporrans and nothing more; the women wore nothing at all. The music that
+emanated from this group was enough to unhinge the mind.
+
+And then came the keyboard instruments, into the middle of which the
+five theremin-players had been stuck for no reason at all. The strange
+howls of this unearthly instrument filtered through the sound of pianos,
+harpsichords, psalters, clavichords, virginals and three gigantic
+electric organs pumping at full strength.
+
+And bringing up the very rear of the Procession was a special decorated
+cart, full of color and holding a lone man with long white hair, wearing
+a rusty black suit and playing away, with great attention and care, on
+the largest steam calliope Forrester had ever met. Jets of steam fizzed
+out of the top, and music bawled from the interior of the massive thing
+as it went by, trailing the Procession into the woods, and the entire
+aggregation swung into a single song, hundred upon hundreds of musicians
+and singers all coming down hard on the opening strains of the Hymn to
+Dionysus:
+
+    "_Mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord who rules the wine--
+    He has trampled out the vintage of the grapes upon the vine!_"
+
+The twelve Priests picked up the palanquin and Forrester adjusted his
+weight so they wouldn't find it too heavy. It was impossible to think in
+the mass of noise and music that went on and on, as the Procession wound
+uptown through the paths of Central Park, and the musicians banged and
+scraped and blew and pounded and stroked and plucked, and the great Hymn
+rose into the air, filling the entire city with the bawled chorus as
+even the twelve Priests joined in, adding to the ear-splitting din:
+
+    "_Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    Glory, Glory, Dionysus!
+    While his wine goes flowing on!_"
+
+Forrester had always been disturbed by what he thought might have been a
+double meaning in that last line, but it didn't disturb him now. Nothing
+seemed to disturb him as the Procession wound on, and he was laughing
+uproariously and winking and nodding at his worshippers as they sang and
+played all around him, and the hours went by. Halfway there, he fished
+in the air and brought down the small golden disks with the picture of
+Dionysus on them that were a regular feature of the Processional, and
+flung them happily into the crowd ahead.
+
+Only one was allowed per person, so there was not much scrambling, but
+some of the coins pattered down on the various instruments, and one
+landed in the old gentleman's middle-C water glass and had to be fished
+out before he could go on with the Hymn.
+
+Carousing and noisy, the Procession finally reached the huge stand at
+the far end of the park, and the music stopped. On the stand was a whole
+new group of musicians: harpists, lyrists, players of the flageolet and
+dulcimer, two men sweating over glockenspiels, a group equipped with
+zithers and citharas and sitars, three women playing nose-flutes, two
+men with shofars, and a tall, blond man playing a clarino trumpet. As
+the Procession ground to a halt, this new band struck up the Hymn again,
+played it through twice, and then stopped.
+
+Seven girls filed out onto the platform in front of the musicians. One
+was there representing every year since the last Sabbatical Bacchanal.
+Forrester, riding high on the palanquin, beamed down at them, roaring
+with happy laughter. They were all for him. Having been carried to one
+end of the park in triumph, he was now to march back at the head of his
+people, surrounded by seven of the most beautiful girls in New York.
+
+Their final selection had been left, he knew, to a brewery which had
+experience in these matters. And the girls certainly looked like the
+pick of anybody's crop. Forrester beamed at them again, stood up in the
+palanquin and spread his arms wide.
+
+Then he sprang. In a flying leap, he went high into the air and did a
+full somersault, landing on his toes on the stage, twenty-five feet
+away. The girls were kneeling in a circle around him.
+
+"Come, my doves!" he bellowed. "Come, my pigeons!" His Godlike golden
+baritone carried for blocks.
+
+He grabbed the two nearest girls by their hands and helped them to their
+feet. They blushed and lowered their eyes.
+
+"Come, all of you!" Forrester shouted. "We are about to begin the
+revels!"
+
+The girls rose and Forrester gestured them in closer. Then, surrounded
+by all seven, he threw back his head again.
+
+"A revel to make history!" he roared. "A revel beyond the imagination of
+man! A revel fit for your God!"
+
+The crowd cheered wildly. Forrester picked up one of the girls, tossed
+her into the air and caught her easily as she descended. He set her on
+her feet and put his hands solidly on his hips.
+
+"My cup!" he shouted. "Fill you my cup!"
+
+Behind the stage was a corps of Priests guarding a mountainous golden
+hogshead of wine, adjudged the finest wine produced during the year.
+
+"We shall have drink!" Forrester shouted. "We shall let the revels roar
+on!"
+
+Two priests came forward, staggering under the weight of a gigantic
+crystal goblet containing fully two gallons of the clear purple liquid.
+They bore it to Forrester with great pomp, and before them came a dozen
+players on the gahoon and the contra-gahoon, making Forrester's ears
+ring with deafening fanfares.
+
+Forrester took the great goblet in one hand and held it with ease. Then
+he lifted it into the air with a wordless shout, filled his lungs and
+laughed. He put the goblet to his lips and drained it in a single long
+motion. A mighty hurrah shook the trees and rocks of the park.
+
+Forrester waved the goblet. "Again. Fill you my cup once more!" He
+embraced the seven girls with one sweeping gesture of his arms. "My
+little beauties must have drink! Fill you the cup!"
+
+He passed it back to the Priests carefully. They received it and went
+back to where the others were waiting to fill it. Then they staggered
+forward again and Forrester picked up the brimming goblet. He held it
+for the girls, each of whom tried to outdrink the others. But it was
+still more than half-full when they were finished.
+
+Forrester raised it again. The crowd shouted. "Observe your God!"
+Forrester roared. "Observe his powers!" He threw his head back and
+emptied the goblet. Then, holding it in one hand, he faced the
+assemblage and delivered himself of one Godlike belch.
+
+The crowd shrieked its approval. Forrester had the goblet filled once
+more and put three of the girls in charge of it. Then he came down the
+steps from the platform and began the long march back to the
+Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+The shouting, carousing revelers followed him joyfully. Halfway back,
+one of them stumbled forward and caught at the trailing edge of his
+robe. There was an immediate crackle and burst of static electricity,
+and the stumbler fell back yelping and shaking his arms. The Myrmidons
+came and took him away.
+
+Dionysus couldn't be touched by anyone except those authorized to do
+so--the seven girls and the Priests. But Forrester barely noticed the
+accident; he was too happy on top of his world, laughing and hugging the
+girls close to him.
+
+Behind him, the Priests at the golden hogshead, now set free to taste
+the wine themselves, had lost no time. They were dipping in busily with
+their own goblets--a good deal smaller than the two-gallon crystal one
+for Dionysus himself. There was not even any need for libations; enough
+ran over the brimming edges of the goblets to take care of that detail,
+and the Priests were soon well on the way to becoming sozzled.
+
+The musicians, now joined by the corps which had waited on the uptown
+stage, struck up a new tune, and drowned out even the shouting crowds as
+they cheered their God. After a little while, the crowds began to sing
+along with the magnificent noise:
+
+    "_Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,
+    Around the goblet--around the goblet--
+    Dionysus wrapped his hand around the goblet,
+    And we'll all get--stinking drunk!_"
+
+It was by no means an official hymn, but Forrester didn't mind; it was
+sung with such a great deal of honest enthusiasm. He himself did not
+join in the singing; he was otherwise occupied. With his arms around two
+of the girls, drinking now and then from the great goblet three more
+were holding, and winking and laughing at the extra two, he made his
+joyous way down the petal-strewn paths of Central Park.
+
+The Procession wound down through the paths, over bridges and under
+tunnels, singing and playing and marching and dancing madly, while
+Forrester, at its head, caroused as merrily as any four of them. They
+reached a bridge crossing a little stream and Forrester sprang at it
+with a great somersaulting leap that carried the two girls he was
+holding right along with him. He set them down at the slope of the
+bridge, laughing and giggling and the other girls, with the Procession
+behind them, soon caught up. Forrester let go of one of the girls,
+grabbed the goblet with his free hand and swung it in a magnificent
+gesture.
+
+"Forward!" he cried.
+
+The Procession surged over the bridge, Forrester at its head. He grabbed
+the girl again, handing the goblet back to his corps of three carriers,
+and bowed and grinned at his worshippers behind him, surging forward,
+and at some others standing under the bridge, ankle-deep, shin-deep,
+even knee-deep in the rushing water, craning their necks upward to get a
+really good view of their God as he passed over. There were over a
+hundred of them there.
+
+Forrester didn't see a hundred of them.
+
+He saw one of them first, and then two more. And time seemed to stop
+with a grinding halt. Forrester wanted to run and hide. He clutched the
+girls closer to him with one instinctive gesture, and then realized he'd
+made the wrong move. But it was too late. He was lost, he told himself
+dolefully. The sun had gone out, the wine had lost its power and the
+celebration had degenerated to a succession of ugly noises.
+
+The first face he saw belonged to Gerda Symes.
+
+In that timeless instant, Forrester felt that he could see every detail
+of the soft, small face, the dark hair, the slim, curved figure. She was
+smiling up at him, but her face looked a little bewildered, as if she
+were smiling only because it was the thing to do. Forrester wondered,
+panic-stricken, how she, an Athenan, had managed to get entry to a
+Dionysian revel--but his wonder only lasted for a second. Then he saw
+the second and third faces, and he knew.
+
+The second face belonged to an absolute stranger. He looked like an
+oafish clod, even viewed objectively, and Forrester was making no
+efforts in that direction. He had one arm around Gerda's waist and he
+was grinning up at her, and, sideways, at Forrester with a look that
+made them co-conspirators in what was certainly planned to be Gerda's
+seduction. Forrester didn't like the idea. As a matter of fact, he hated
+it more than he could possibly say.
+
+But all he could do was trust to Gerda's own doubtless sterling good
+sense. She couldn't possibly prefer a lout like her current escort to
+good old Bill Forrester, could she?
+
+On the other hand, she thought Bill Forrester was dead. She'd had to
+think that; when he became Dionysus the Lesser, he couldn't just
+disappear. He had to die officially--and, as far as Gerda knew, the
+death wasn't just an official formality.
+
+With Bill Forrester dead, then, had she turned to the oaf for comfort?
+He didn't look very comforting, Forrester thought. He looked like a
+damned outrage on the face of the Earth. Forrester disliked him on first
+sight, and knew perfectly well that any future sights would only
+increase the dislike.
+
+It was the third face, though that explained everything.
+
+The third face was as unmistakable as Gerda's, though in an entirely
+different way. It was fleshy and pasty, and it belonged, of course, to
+Gerda's lovable brother Ed. Forrester saw everything in one flash of
+understanding.
+
+Ed Symes obviously had enough pull to get his sister invited to the
+Bacchanal. And from the looks of Gerda, he hadn't let the matter rest
+there. She was holding a half-filled plastic mug of wine in one hand--a
+mug with the picture of Dionysus stamped on it, which for some reason
+increased Forrester's outrage--and she was trying her best to look as if
+she were reveling.
+
+From the looks of her, Ed had managed to get her about eight inches this
+side of half-pickled. And from the horribly cheerful look on Ed's
+countenance, he wasn't about to stop at the half-pickled mark, either.
+
+Of course, from Ed's point of view--and Forrester told himself sternly
+that he had to be fair about this whole thing--from Ed's point of view
+there was nothing wrong in what was happening. He wanted to cheer Gerda
+up (undoubtedly the news of the Forrester demise had been quite a shock
+to her, poor girl), and what better way than to introduce her to his own
+religion, the best of all possible religions? The Autumn Bacchanal must
+have looked like the perfect time and place for that introduction, and
+Gerda's escort, a friend of Ed's--somehow Forrester had to think of him
+as Ed's friend; it was clearly not possible that he was Gerda's--had
+been brought along to help cheer the girl up and show her the advantages
+of worshipping Dionysus.
+
+Unfortunately, the advantages hadn't turned out to be all that had been
+expected of them. Because now Gerda had seen Forrester alive and--
+
+Wait a minute, Forrester told himself.
+
+Gerda hadn't seen William Forrester at all.
+
+She had seen just what she expected to see; Dionysus, God of Wine. There
+was no reason for him to shrink from her, or try to hide. Just because
+he was walking along with seven beautiful girls, drinking about sixteen
+times the consumption of any normal right-thinking fish, and carousing
+like the most unprincipled of men, he didn't have to be ashamed of
+himself.
+
+He was only doing his job.
+
+And Gerda did not know that he wasn't Dionysus.
+
+The thought made him feel a little better, but it saddened him, too,
+just a bit. He set himself grimly and shouted: "Forward!" once more. To
+his own ears, his voice lacked conviction, but the crowd didn't seem to
+notice. The cheered frantically. Forrester wished they would all go
+away.
+
+He started forward. His foot found a large pebble that hadn't been
+there before, and he performed the magnificent feat of tripping on it.
+He flailed the air frantically, and managed to regain his balance. Then
+he was back on his feet, clutching at the girls. His big left toe hurt,
+but he ignored the agony bravely.
+
+He had to think of something to do, and fast. The crowd had seen him
+stumble--and that just didn't happen to a God. It wouldn't have happened
+to him, either except for Gerda.
+
+He got his mind off Gerda with an effort and thought about what to do to
+cover his slip. In a moment he had it. He swore a great oath, empurpling
+the air. Then he bent down and picked up the stone. He held it aloft for
+a second, and then threw it. Slowly and carefully he pointed his index
+finger at it, extending it and raising his thumb like a little boy
+playing Stick-'Em-Up.
+
+"_Zap_," he said mildly, cocking the thumb forward.
+
+A crackling, searing bolt of blue-white energy leaped out of the tip of
+his index finger in a pencil-thin beam. It sped toward the falling
+pebble, speared it and wrapped it in coruscating splendor. Then the
+pebble exploded, scattering into a fine display of flying dust.
+
+The crowd stopped moving and singing immediately.
+
+Only the musicians, too intent on their noisemaking to see what had gone
+on, went on playing. But the crowd, having seen Forrester's display and
+heard his oath, was as silent as a collection of statues. When a God
+became angry, each was obviously thinking, there was absolutely no
+telling what was going to happen. Foxholes, some of them might have told
+themselves, would definitely be a good idea. But, of course, there
+weren't any foxholes in Central Park. There was nothing to do but stand
+very still, and hope you weren't noticed, and hope for the best.
+
+Even Gerda, Forrester saw, had stopped, her face still, her hand lifted
+in a half-finished wave, the plastic cup forgotten.
+
+_I've got to do something_, Forrester thought. _I can't let this kind of
+thing go on._
+
+He thought fast, spun around and pointed directly at Ed Symes, standing
+in the water below the bridge.
+
+"You, there!" he bellowed.
+
+Symes turned a delicate fish-belly white. Against this basic color, his
+pimples stood out strongly, making, Forrester thought, a rather unusual
+and somewhat striking effect. The man looked as if he wished he could
+sink out of sight in the ankle-deep water.
+
+His mouth opened two or three times. Forrester waited, getting a good
+deal of pleasure out of the simple sight. Finally Symes spoke. "Me?"
+
+"Certainly you! You look like a tough young specimen."
+
+Symes tried to grin. The effect was ghastly. "I do?" He said
+tentatively.
+
+"Of course you do. Your God tells you so. Do you doubt him?"
+
+"Doubt? No. Absolutely not. Never. Wouldn't think of it. Tough young
+specimen. That's what I am. Tough. And young. Tough young specimen.
+Certainly. You bet."
+
+"Good," Forrester said. "Now let's see you in action."
+
+Symes took a deep breath. He seemed to be savoring it, as if he thought
+it was going to be his very last. "Wh--what do you want me to do?"
+
+"I want you to pick up another stone and throw it. Let's see how high
+you can get it."
+
+Symes was obviously afraid to move from his spot in the water. Instead
+of going back to the land, he fished around near his feet and finally
+managed to come up with a pebble almost as big as his fist. He looked at
+it doubtfully.
+
+"Throw!" Forrester said in a voice like thunder.
+
+Symes, galvanized, threw. It flew up in the air. Forrester drew a
+careful bead on it, went _zap_ again with the pointed finger, and
+blasted the rock into dust.
+
+The silence hung on.
+
+Forrester laughed. "Not a bad throw for a mortal! And a good trick,
+too--a fine display!" He faced the crowd. "Now, there--what do you say
+to the entertainment your God provides? Wasn't that _fun_?"
+
+Well, naturally it was, if Dionysus said so. A great trick, as a matter
+of fact. And a perfectly wonderful display. The crowd agreed
+immediately, giving a long rousing cheer. Forrester waved at them, and
+then turned to a squad of Myrmidons standing nearby.
+
+"Go to that man and his friends!" he shouted, noticing that Symes's
+knees had begun to shake.
+
+The Myrmidons obeyed.
+
+"See that they follow near me. Allow them to remain close to me at all
+times--I may need a good stone-thrower later!"
+
+Gerda, her brother and the oaf without a name were rounded up in a
+hurry, and soon found themselves being hustled along, willy-nilly, out
+of the water, up onto the bridge and into Dionysus' van, where they
+followed in the wake of the God, in front of the rest of the Procession.
+Of the three, Forrester noted, Gerda was the only one who didn't seem to
+think the invitation a high honor. The sight gave him a kind of hope.
+
+_And at least_, he thought, _I can keep an eye on her this way_.
+
+The Procession wended its way on, bending slowly southward toward the
+little Temple-on-the-Green again. The musicians played energetically,
+switching now from the hymn to their unofficial little ditty. Some
+switched before others, some switched after, and some never bothered to
+switch at all. The battery, caught between the opposing claims of two
+perfectly good songs and a lot of extraneous matter, filled in as best
+they could with a good deal of forceful banging and pounding, aided by
+the steam calliope, and the result of all effort was a growing cacophony
+that should have been terribly unpleasant but somehow wasn't.
+
+The shouting of the crowd, joking and singing, may have had something to
+do with it; nothing was clearly distinguishable, but the general feeling
+was that a lot of noise was being produced, and that was all to the
+good. Noise could have been packaged by the board foot and sold in
+quantities sufficient to equip every town meeting throughout the country
+in full for seven years, and there would have been enough left over,
+Forrester thought, to provide for the subways, the classrooms, the
+offices and even a couple of really top-grade traffic jams.
+
+Gerda and the others of her party marched quietly. Ed, Forrester
+noticed, tried a few cheers, but he got cold stares from his sister and
+soon desisted. The oaf shambled along, his arm no longer around Gerda's
+waist. This pleased Forrester no end, and he was in quite a happy mood
+by the time the Procession reached the Temple-on-the-Green.
+
+He was so happy that he performed his atoning high jump once again, this
+time with a double somersault and a jack-knife thrown in, just to make
+things interesting, and landed gently, feeling positively exhilarated
+and very Godlike, on the roof of the Temple.
+
+As the Procession straggled in, the music stopped. Forrester cleared his
+throat and shouted in his most penetrating roar to the silent
+assemblage: "Hear me!"
+
+The crowd stirred, looked up and paid him the most rapt attention.
+
+"On with the revels!" he roared. "Let the dancing begin! Let my wine
+flow like the streams of the park! Let joy be unrestrained!"
+
+He stood on the roof then, watching the crowd begin to disperse. It was
+the middle of the afternoon, and Forrester was amazed at how quickly
+the time had passed. The Procession itself had taken a good six hours
+from start to finish, now that he looked back on it, but it certainly
+hadn't seemed so long. And he didn't even feel tired, in spite of all
+the dancing and cavorting he had gone in for.
+
+He did feel slightly intoxicated, but he wasn't sure how much of that
+feeling was due purely and simply to the liquor he had managed to
+consume. But otherwise, he told himself, he felt perfectly fine.
+
+The musicians were breaking up into little groups of three and four and
+five and going off to play softly to themselves among the trees. The man
+with the steam calliope sat exhausted over his keyboard. The old man
+with the water glasses was receiving the earnest congratulations of a
+lot of people who looked like relatives. And now that the official
+music-making was over, a lot of amateurs playing jews'-harps and
+tissue-paper-covered combs and slide-whistles had broken out their
+contraptions and were gaily making a joyful noise unto their God. If,
+Forrester thought, you wanted to call it joyful. The general tenor of
+the sound was a kind of swooping, batlike whine.
+
+Forrester stared down. There were Gerda and her brother and the oaf.
+They were standing close by the Temple, three Myrmidons keeping guard
+over them. The rest of the crowd had dissolved into little bunches
+spreading all over the park. Forrester knew he would have to leave, too,
+and very soon. There were seven girls waiting for him down below.
+
+Not that he minded the idea. Seven beautiful girls, after all, were
+seven beautiful girls. But he did want to keep an eye on Gerda, and he
+wasn't sure whether he would be able to do it when he got busy.
+
+Somewhere in the bushes, someone began to play a kazoo, adding the final
+touch of melancholy and heartbreak to the music. The formal and
+official part of the Bacchanal was now over.
+
+The _real_ fun, Forrester thought dismally, was about to begin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+
+"Now," Forrester said gaily, "let's see if your God has all the names
+right, shall we?"
+
+The seven girls seated around him in a half-circle on the grass giggled.
+One of them simpered.
+
+"Hmm," Forrester said. He pointed a finger. "Dorothy," he said. The
+finger moved. "Judy. Uh--Bette. Millicent. Jayne." He winked at the last
+two. They had been his closest companions on the march down. "Beverly,"
+he said, "and Kathy. Right?"
+
+The girls laughed, nodding their heads. "You can call me Millie,"
+Millicent said.
+
+"All right, Millie." For some reason this drew another big laugh.
+Forrester didn't know why, but then, he didn't much care, either.
+"That's fine," he said. "Just fine."
+
+He gave all the girls a big, wide grin. It looked perfectly convincing
+to them, he was sure, but there was one person it didn't convince:
+Forrester. He knew just how far from a grin he felt.
+
+As a matter of fact, he told himself, he was in something of a quandary.
+
+He was not exactly inexperienced in the art of making love to beautiful
+young women. After the last few months, he was about as experienced as
+he could stand being. But his education had, it now appeared, missed one
+vital little factor.
+
+He was used to making love to a beautiful girl all alone, just the two
+of them locked quietly away from prying eyes. True, it had turned out
+that a lot of his experiences had been judged by Venus and any other God
+who felt like looking in, but Forrester hadn't known that at the time
+and, in any case, the spectators had been invisible and thus ignorable.
+
+Now, however, he was on the greensward of Central Park, within full view
+of a couple of thousand drunken revelers, all of whom, if not otherwise
+occupied, asked for nothing better than a good view of their God in
+action. And whichever girl he chose would leave six others eagerly
+awaiting their turns, watching his every move with appreciative eyes.
+
+And on top of that, there was Gerda, close by. He was trying to keep an
+eye on her. But was she keeping an eye on him, too?
+
+It didn't seem to matter much that she couldn't recognize him as William
+Forrester. She could still see him in action with the seven luscious
+maidens. The idea was appalling.
+
+All afternoon, he had put off the inevitable by every method he could
+think of. He had danced with each of the girls in turn for entirely
+improbable lengths of time. He had performed high-jumps, leaps,
+barrel-rolls, Immelmann turns and other feats showing off his Godlike
+prowess to anyone interested. He had made a display of himself until he
+was sick of the whole business. He had consumed staggering amounts of
+ferment and distillate, and he had forced the stuff on the girls
+themselves, in the hope that, what with the liquor and the exertion,
+they would lie down on the grass and quietly pass out.
+
+Unfortunately, none of these plans had worked. Dancing and acrobatics
+had to come to an end sometime, and as for the girls, what they wanted
+to do was lie down, not pass out--at least not from liquor.
+
+The Chosen Maidens had been imbued, temporarily, with extraordinary
+staying powers by the Priests of the various temples, working with the
+delegated powers of the various Gods. After all, an ordinary girl
+couldn't be expected to keep up with Dionysus during a revel, could she?
+A God reveling was more than any ordinary mortal could take for long--as
+witness the ancient legend concerned the false Norse God, Thor.
+
+But these girls were still raring to go, and the sun had set, and he was
+running out of opportunities for delay. He tried to think of some more
+excuses, and he couldn't think of one. Vaguely, he wished that the real
+Dionysus would show up. He would gladly give the God not only the
+credit, he told himself wearily, but the entire game.
+
+He glanced out into the growing dimness. Gerda was out there still, with
+her brother and the oaf--whose name, Forrester had discovered, was Alvin
+Sherdlap. It was not a probable name, but Alvin did not look like a
+probable human being.
+
+Now and again during the long afternoon, Forrester had got Ed Symes to
+toss up more rocks as targets, just to keep his hand in and to help him
+in keeping an eye on Gerda and her oaf, Alvin. It was a boring business,
+exploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes apparently got to
+like it, and thought of it as a singular honor. After all, he had been
+picked for a unique position: target-tosser for the great God Dionysus.
+Who else could make that statement?
+
+He would probably grow in the estimation of his friends, Forrester
+thought, and that was a picture that wouldn't stand much thinking about.
+As a stupefying boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferable
+snobbishness to his present personality was piling Pelion on Ossa. And
+only a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly, could possibly do that.
+
+Now, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap and Gerda were all
+sitting around a large keg of beer which Symes had somehow managed to
+appropriate from some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin were
+guzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling away the
+time, apparently, by thinking. Forrester wondered if she was thinking of
+him, and the notion made him feel sad and poetic.
+
+Gerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The darkness of night had
+come down and there was no moon. The only illumination was the glow
+rising from the rest of the city, since the lights of the park would
+stay out throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaining
+light was not enough to see anything more than a few feet away. But to
+Forrester's Godlike, abnormally perceptive vision, the park seemed no
+darker than it had at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes trio
+could not possibly see him, he could still watch over them with no
+effort at all.
+
+He intended to continue doing so.
+
+But now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities, and his mind
+completely empty of excuses, was the time to begin the task at hand.
+
+He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.
+
+"Well," he said. "Well."
+
+There had to be something to follow that, but for a minute he couldn't
+think of what.
+
+Millicent giggled unexpectedly. "Oh, Lord Dionysus! I feel so
+_honored_!"
+
+"Er," Forrester said. Finally he found words. "Oh, that's all right," he
+said, wondering exactly what he meant. "Perfectly all right, Millicent."
+
+"Call me Millie."
+
+"Of course, Millie."
+
+"You can call me Bets, if you want to," Bette chimed in. Bette was a
+blonde with short, curly hair and a startling figure. "It's kind of a
+pet name. You know."
+
+"Sure," Forrester said. "Uh--would you mind keeping your voices down a
+little?"
+
+"Why?" Millicent asked.
+
+Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. "Well," he said at last,
+thinking about Gerda, only a few feet away, "I thought it might be nicer
+if we were quiet. Sort of private and romantic."
+
+"Oh," Bette said.
+
+Kathy spoke up. "You mean we have to whisper? As if we were doing
+something secret?"
+
+Forrester tightened his lips. He felt the beginnings of a strong
+distaste for Kathy. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? But he
+only said: "Well, yes. I thought it might be fun. Let's try it, girls."
+
+"Of course, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said demurely.
+
+He disliked her, he decided, intensely.
+
+There was a little silence.
+
+"Well," Forrester said. "You're all such beautiful girls that I hardly
+know how to--ah--proceed from here."
+
+Millicent tittered. So did one of the others--Judy, Forrester thought.
+
+"I wouldn't want any of you to feel disappointed, or think you were any
+lower in my estimation than--than any other one of you." The sentence
+seemed to have got lost somewhere, Forrester thought, but he had
+straightened it out. "That wouldn't be fair," he went on, "and we Gods
+are always fair."
+
+The sentence didn't ring quite true in Forrester's mind, and he thought
+he heard one of the girls snicker, but he ignored it and went bravely
+on.
+
+"So," he said, "we're going to have a little game."
+
+Millicent said: "Game?"
+
+"Sure," Forrester said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "We all
+like games, don't we? I mean, what's an orgy--I mean, what's a
+revel--but a great big game? Isn't that right?"
+
+"Well," Bette said doubtfully, "I guess so. Sure, Lord Dionysus, if you
+say so."
+
+"Well, sure it is!" Forrester said. "Fun and games! So we'll play a
+little game. Ha-ha."
+
+Kathy looked up at him brightly. "What kind of game, Lord Dionysus?" she
+asked in an innocent tone. She was an extravagantly pretty brunette with
+bright brown eyes, and she had been one of the two he had held in his
+arms during the Procession back from the uptown end of the park.
+Thinking it over now, Forrester wasn't entirely sure whether he had
+chosen her or she had chosen him, but it didn't really seem to matter,
+after all.
+
+"Well, now," he said, "it's going to be a game of pure chance. Chance
+and nothing more."
+
+"Like luck," Bette contributed.
+
+"That's right--uh--Bets," Forrester said. "Like luck. And I promise not
+to use my powers to affect the outcome. Fair enough, isn't it?"
+
+"Certainly," Kathy said demurely. There was really no reason for him to
+be irritated by the girl, so long as she was agreeing with him so
+nicely. Nevertheless, he wasn't quite sure that she was speaking her
+mind.
+
+"Oh," Millicent said. "Sure."
+
+Bette nodded. "Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Lord Dionysus."
+
+Forrester waved a hand. "No need for formality," he said, and felt like
+an ass. But none of the girls seemed to notice. Agreement with his idea
+became general. "Well, let's see."
+
+His eyes wandered over the surrounding scenery in quiet thought. Several
+Myrmidons were scattered about twenty feet away, and they were standing
+with their backs to the group as a matter of formality. If they had
+turned around, they couldn't have seen a thing in the darkness. But they
+had to remain at their stations, to make sure no unauthorized persons,
+souvenir-hunters, musicians, special-pleaders or just plain lost souls
+intruded upon great Dionysus while he was occupied.
+
+The Myrmidons were the only living souls within that radius, except for
+Forrester himself and his bevy--and the Symes trio.
+
+His gaze settled on them. Ed Symes, he noticed with quiet satisfaction,
+was now out cold. Forrester thought that the little spell he had cast on
+the beer might have had something to do with that, and he felt rather
+pleased with his efforts, at least in that direction. Symes was lying
+flat on his back, snoring loudly enough to drown out all but a few notes
+from the steam calliope, which was singing itself loudly to sleep
+somewhere in the distance. Near the prone figure, Gerda was trying to
+fend off the advances of good old Alvin Sherdlap, but it was obvious
+that the sheer passage of time, plus the amount of liquor she had
+consumed, were weakening her resistance.
+
+Forrester pointed a finger at the man. The one thing he really wanted to
+do was to give Alvin the rock treatment. One little _zap_ would do it,
+and Alvin Sherdlap would encumber the Earth no more. And it wasn't as if
+Alvin would be missed, Forrester told himself. It was clear from one
+look at the lout that no one, anywhere, for any reason, would miss Alvin
+if he were exploded into dust.
+
+The temptation was very nearly irresistible, but somehow Forrester
+managed to resist it. He had been told that he had to be extremely
+careful in the use of his powers, and he had a pretty good idea that he
+wouldn't be able to justify blasting Alvin. Viewed objectively, there
+was nothing wrong with what the oaf was doing. He was merely following
+his religion as he understood it, and the religion was a very simple
+one: when at an orgy, have an orgy.
+
+Gerda didn't have to give in if she didn't want to, Forrester thought.
+He tried very hard to make himself believe that.
+
+But his finger was still pointed at the man. He didn't stop his powers
+entirely; he merely throttled them down so that only a tiny fraction of
+the neural energy at his command came into play. The energy that came
+from the tip of his finger made no noise and cast no light. It was not a
+killing blow.
+
+Invisibly, it leaped across the intervening space and hit Alvin Sherdlap
+squarely on the nose.
+
+The results were eminently satisfactory. Alvin uttered a sharp cry, let
+go of Gerda and fell over backward. His legs stood up straight in the
+air for a second, and then came down to hit the ground. He was silent.
+Gerda stared down at him, too tired and confused to make any coherent
+picture out of what was going on.
+
+Forrester sighed happily to himself. _That_, he thought, _ought to take
+care of Alvin for a while_.
+
+"Lord Dionysus," Kathy asked in that same innocent tone, "what are you
+pointing at out there?"
+
+The girl was decidedly irritating, Forrester thought. "Pointing?" he
+said. "Ah, yes." He thought fast. "My target-tosser. I fear that his
+religious fervor has led to his being overcome."
+
+The girls all turned round to look but, of course, Forrester thought,
+they could see nothing at all in the darkness.
+
+"My goodness," Bette said.
+
+"But if he's unconscious," Kathy put in, "why were you pointing at him?"
+
+Forrester told himself that the next time the Sabbatical Bacchanal was
+held, he would see to it that an intelligence test was given to every
+candidate for Dionysian Escort, and anyone who scored as high on it as
+Kathy would be automatically disqualified.
+
+He had to think of some excuse for looking at the man. And then he had
+it--the game he had planned. It was really quite a nice little idea.
+
+"I hate to see the poor mortal miss out on the rest of the evening,"
+Forrester said, "even if he is asleep now. And I think we may have a use
+for him."
+
+He gestured gently with one hand.
+
+Gerda and Alvin Sherdlap didn't even notice what was happening. They
+were much too busy arguing, Alvin claiming that somebody had slapped him
+on the nose--"and pretty hard, too, let me tell you!"--and Gerda
+swearing she hadn't done it. The fact that Ed Symes's snores were fading
+quietly into the distance dawned on neither of them.
+
+But Ed was in flight. He rose five feet above the ground, still
+unconscious and snoring, and sped unerringly across the air, like a
+large, fat arrow shot from a bow, in the direction of Forrester and the
+circle of girls.
+
+He appeared overhead suddenly, and Forrester controlled him so that he
+drifted downward as delicately as an overweight snowflake, eddying in
+the slight breeze while the girls gaped at him. Forrester allowed the
+body to drop the last six inches out of control, so that Ed Symes landed
+with a heavy thump in the center of the circle. But no harm was done. Ed
+was very far gone indeed; he merely snored on.
+
+"There," Forrester said.
+
+Millicent blinked. "Where?" she said. "Him?"
+
+"Certainly," Forrester said in a pleased tone. "He's a good deal too
+noisy, though, don't you think?"
+
+"He snores a lot," Judy offered in a tentative voice, "if that's what
+you mean, Lord Dionysus."
+
+"Exactly. And I don't see any reason to put up with it. Instead, well
+just put him in stasis for a little while, and that'll keep him quiet."
+Again he waved one hand, almost carelessly. Ed Symes's snores vanished
+immediately, leaving the world a cleaner, purer, quieter place to live
+in, and his body became as rigid as if he were a statue.
+
+"There," Forrester said again with satisfaction.
+
+"Now what?" Kathy asked.
+
+"Now we straighten him out."
+
+One more pass, and Ed Symes's arms were at his sides, his legs stretched
+straight out. Only his stomach projected above the rigid lines of his
+body. Forrester thought he had never seen a more pleasing sight.
+
+Dorothy gasped. "Is he--is he dead?"
+
+Forrester looked at her reprovingly. "Dead? Now what would I do that
+for, after he's been so helpful and all?"
+
+"I don't know," she muttered.
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "he's not dead. He's just in stasis--in a state
+of totally suspended animation. As soon as I take the spell off, he'll
+be all right. But I don't think I'll take it off just yet. I've got
+plans for my little target-tosser."
+
+He reached over and touched the stiff body. It seemed to rise a fraction
+of an inch, floating on the tips of the grass. The wind stirred it a
+little, but it didn't float away.
+
+"I took some of his weight off," Forrester explained, "so he'll be a
+little easier to handle."
+
+Now Ed Symes was behaving as if he were a statue carved out of cork.
+With a quick flip, Forrester turned the statue over. The effect was
+exactly what he wanted. Ed did not touch the grass at any point except
+one: the point where his protuberant stomach most protruded. Fore and
+aft, the rest of him was balanced stiffly in the air.
+
+Forrester gazed at the sight, feeling fulfilled. "Now," he said with a
+note of decision in his voice, "we are going to play Spin-the-Bottle!"
+
+The girls giggled and laughed.
+
+"You mean with him?" Bette said.
+
+Forrester sighed. "That's right," he said patiently. "With him."
+
+He got into position and looked up at the girls. "This one's just for
+practice, so we can all see how it works." He gave Symes's extended foot
+a little push.
+
+_Whee!_ he thought. Round and round the gentleman went, spinning
+quietly on his stomach, revolving in a merry fashion while the girls and
+Forrester watched silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nose
+pointing at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "He's pointing at me!"
+
+"He is not!" Bette said decisively. "His head points my way!"
+
+"But he--"
+
+"Temper, temper," Forrester said. "No arguments. That one didn't count,
+anyhow--it was just to see how he worked. And I do think he works very
+nicely, don't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said. There was the same undertone in
+her voice, as if she were silently laughing at everything. She was, he
+told himself, an extremely unlikable young woman.
+
+The other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still studying the stiff
+body of Ed Symes. His stomach had made a little depression in the grass
+as he whirled, and he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin.
+Forrester rubbed his hands together.
+
+"Fine," he said. "Now, all of you are going to be judges."
+
+"Me, too?" Bette asked.
+
+Forrester nodded. "The head will be the determining factor. If our
+little Mr. Bottle's head points to any one of you, that is the one I'll
+choose first."
+
+"See?" Bette said. "I told you it was his head."
+
+"Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so," Dorothy said. "And
+anyhow, I--"
+
+"Now, now, girls," Forrester said, feeling momentarily like a Girl Scout
+troop leader. "Let's listen to the rules, shall we? And then we can get
+down to playing the game." He took a deep breath. "Isn't this fun?"
+
+The girls giggled.
+
+"Good," Forrester said. "If Mr. Bottle's head ends up between two of
+you, then the other five girls will have to decide which girl the head's
+nearer to. The two girls involved will remain absolutely quiet during
+the judging, and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,
+we'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?"
+
+"You mean if the head points at me, I get picked," Bette said. "And if
+the head goes in between me and somebody else, all the other girls have
+to decide who gets picked."
+
+It was a masterly summation.
+
+"Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This one
+counts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later."
+
+"Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this _exciting_?"
+
+Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I give you my word as a
+God that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Is
+that clearly understood?"
+
+The girls murmured agreement.
+
+"Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll stand
+outside."
+
+The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguing
+about who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity was
+bound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check
+on Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren't
+touching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a better
+idea of what was going on.
+
+They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history.
+Gerda was telling Alvin all about her past.
+
+"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in love
+with a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, really
+wonderful. But he--he was killed in a subway accident some months ago."
+
+"Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."
+
+"I--I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand. I still love
+him. He was wonderful. And until I get over it, I simply can't ..."
+
+Feeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well as sorry for the
+poor girl, Forrester quit listening. The Gods had arranged his simulated
+death, which, of course, had been a necessity. His disappearance had to
+be explained somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda having to
+suffer so much.
+
+_My God!_ Forrester thought. _She still loves me!_
+
+It was the first time he had ever heard her say so, flatly, right out in
+the open. He wanted to bound and leap and cavort--but he couldn't. He
+had to go back to his seven beautiful girls.
+
+He had never felt less like it in his life.
+
+But at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping Alvin at arm's
+length. She was being faithful to his memory.
+
+Faithful--because she loved him.
+
+Grimly, he turned back to the girls. "Well, are we all ready now?"
+
+Kathy looked up at him brightly. "Lord Dionysus, it's so dark I can't
+even see for sure what's going on. How can we do any judging, if we
+can't see?"
+
+Forrester cursed Kathy for pointing out the flaw in his arrangements.
+Then, making a nice impartial job of it, he cursed himself for
+forgetting that what was perfectly visible to him was dark night to
+mortals.
+
+"We can clear that up," he said quickly. "As a matter of fact, I was
+just getting around to it. We will now proceed to shed a little light on
+the subject--said subject being our old friend Mr. Bottle."
+
+The trick had been taught to him by Venus, but he'd never had a chance
+to practice it. This was his first real experience with it, and he could
+only hope that it went off as it was supposed to.
+
+He stepped into the middle of the circle, near Ed Symes's stiff body and
+held his right hand above his head, thumb and forefinger spread an inch
+apart and the other three fingers folded into his palm.
+
+Then he concentrated.
+
+A long second ticked by, while Forrester tried to apply even more neural
+pressure. Then ...
+
+A small ball of light appeared between his thumb and forefinger, a
+yellow, cold sphere of fire that shed its radiance over the whole group.
+Carefully, he withdrew his hand, not daring to breathe. The ball of
+yellow fire remained in position, hanging in mid-air.
+
+The muffled gasp from the circle of girls was, Forrester told himself, a
+definite tribute.
+
+"Now don't worry about it, girls," he said. "That light's only visible
+to the eight of us. Nobody else can see it."
+
+There was another little series of gasps.
+
+Forrester grinned. "Can everybody see each other?"
+
+A murmur of agreement.
+
+"Can everybody see Mr. Bottle here?"
+
+Another murmur.
+
+"In that case, let's go." He stepped outside the circle of girls,
+reached in again for Ed Symes's foot, and set the gentleman spinning
+once more.
+
+Symes spun with a blinding speed, making a low, whistling noise.
+Forrester watched the body spin dizzily, just as anxious as the girls
+were to find out who the first winner was going to be. He thought of
+Millicent, who chewed gum and made it pop. He thought of Bette, the
+inveterate explainer and double-take expert. He tried to think of
+Dorothy and Jayne and Beverly and Judy, but the thought of Kathy,
+irritating and uncomfortable and too damned bright for her own good, got
+annoyingly in the way.
+
+He was rather glad he had promised not to use his powers on the spinning
+figure. He was not at all sure which one of the girls he would have
+picked for Number One.
+
+And he had, after all, given his word as a God. True, he wasn't quite a
+God, only a demi-Deity. But he did feel that Dionysus might object to
+his name being used in vain. A promise, he told himself sternly and
+with some relief, was a promise.
+
+After some time, Mr. Ed (Bottle) Symes began to slow perceptibly. The
+whistling died as Symes began rotating about his abdominal axis at a
+more and more leisurely rate. Seconds passed. Symes faced Bette ...
+Millicent ... Kathy ... Judy ... Bette again ...
+
+Forrester watched, fascinated.
+
+Finally, Symes came to a halt. All the elaborate instructions in case
+the Bottle ended up pointing between two girls had been, Forrester saw,
+totally unnecessary. Symes's head was pointing at one girl, and one girl
+alone.
+
+She gave a little squeal of delight. The others began chorusing their
+congratulations at once, looking no more convincing than the runners-up
+in any beauty contest. Their smiles appeared to have been glued on
+loosely, and their voices lacked a certain something. Possibly it was
+sincerity.
+
+"All right, that's it for now." Forrester turned to the winner. "My
+congratulations," he said, wondering just what he was supposed to say.
+Not finding any appropriate words, he turned back to the group of six
+losers. "The rest of you girls can do me a big favor. Go get a couple of
+the Myrmidons to protect you, hunt around for the nearest wine barrel
+and confiscate it for me. It's been a thirsty day."
+
+"Gee," Jayne said. "Sure we will, Lord Dionysus."
+
+"Now take your time," Forrester said, and the losers all giggled at
+once, like a trained chorus. Forrester grimaced. "Don't come back till
+you find a barrel. Then we'll play the game again."
+
+In a disappointed fashion, the six of them trooped off into the darkness
+and vanished to mortal eyes. Forrester watched them go and then turned
+to the winner, feeling just a little uncertain.
+
+"Well, Kathy," he started. "I--"
+
+She flung herself on him with the avid girlishness of a Bengal tiger.
+"I have dreamed of this night since I was but a child! At last I am in
+your arms! I love you! Take me! I am yours, all yours!"
+
+"That's nice," Forrester said, taken far aback by the girl's sudden
+onslaught. His immediate impulse was to unwind Kathy and set her back on
+her own feet, some little distance away, after which he could start
+again on a more leisurely basis. After all, he told himself, people
+ought to spend more time getting to know each other.
+
+But he remembered, just in time, that he was Dionysus. He conquered his
+first impulse and put his arms around her. As he did so, he discovered
+that his face was being covered with kisses. Kathy was murmuring little
+indistinct terms of endearment into his ear every time she reached it en
+route from one side of his face to the other.
+
+Forrester swallowed hard, tightened his grip and planted his lips firmly
+on Kathy's. A blaze of startling heat shot through him.
+
+In a small corner at the back of his mind, a scroll unrolled. On it was
+written what Vulcan had told him about his mental attitude changing
+after Investiture. When he had been plain William Forrester, an attack
+like the one Kathy was making on him had pretty much chilled him for a
+while. But now he found himself definitely rising to the occasion.
+
+There was a passion to her kiss that he had never felt before, a rising
+tide of flame that threatened to char him. The movement of her mouth on
+his sent new fires burning throughout his body, and as her hands moved
+on him he was awakened to a new world, a world of consuming desires.
+
+He wished his own clothing away, and fumbled for a second at the two
+fastenings that held Kathy's _chiton_ in place. Then it was gone and
+there was nothing between them. They met, flesh to flesh, in a fiery
+embrace that grew as he forced her down and she responded eagerly,
+wildly, to his every motion. His lips traveled over her; her entire
+body was drowning him once and for all in an unbelievable red haze,
+unlike anything he had ever before experienced ... a great wave of
+passion that went on and on, rising to a peak he had never dreamed of
+until his body shivered with the sensations, and he pressed on, rising
+still higher in an ecstasy beyond measure....
+
+His last spasm of tension turned out the God-light.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She lay in his arms on the grass, holding him almost as tightly as he
+held her. He felt exhausted, but he knew perfectly well that he wasn't.
+A God was a God, after all, and Kathy was only the hors d'oeuvres of a
+seven-course dinner.
+
+"You're wonderful," Kathy said in a soft whisper at his ear. "Absolutely
+wonderful. More wonderful than I could ever dream. I--"
+
+She was interrupted by a strange, harsh voice that bellowed from
+somewhere nearby.
+
+"All right, bitch!" it said. "Get the hell up from there! And you too,
+buster!"
+
+Forrester jerked his head up in astonishment and froze. Kathy looked up,
+fright written all over her face.
+
+The man standing over them in the darkness looked like a prize-fighter,
+one who had taken a number of beatings, but always given better than he
+had received. His arms were akimbo, his feet planted as firmly as if he
+were a particularly stubborn brand of tree. He glared down at them, his
+face expressive of anger, hatred--and, Forrester thought dully, a
+complete lack of respect for his God.
+
+The man barked: "You heard what I said! On your feet, buster! If I have
+to kick your teeth in, I want to do it when you're standing up!"
+
+Forrester's jaw dropped. Then, as the initial shock left him, anger
+boiled in to take its place. He toyed with the idea of blasting this
+mortal who showed such disrespect to a God. He sprang to his feet,
+ready to move, and then stopped.
+
+Maybe the man was crazy. Maybe he was just some poor soul who wasn't
+responsible for his own actions. It would be merciful, Forrester
+thought, to find out first, and blast the intruder afterward.
+
+He looked around. Twenty yards away, the encircling Myrmidons still
+stood, their backs to the scene, as if nothing at all were going on.
+
+Forrester blinked. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"
+
+The man barked a laugh. "None of your business." He turned to Kathy, who
+had devoted the previous few seconds to getting her _chiton_ on again.
+Hurriedly, Forrester wished back his own costume. Kathy got up, staring
+straight back at the intruder. Fear was gone from her face, and a kind
+of calmness that Forrester had never seen before possessed her now.
+
+"So!" the intruder bellowed. "The minute my back is turned, off you go!
+By the Stars and Galaxy, I--I don't know what to call you! You're worse
+than your predecessor! Can't turn anything down! You--"
+
+"Now wait!" Forrester bellowed in his most Godlike voice. "Just hold
+still there! Do you know who you're talking to? How dare you--"
+
+And Kathy interrupted him. Forrester stood mute as she stripped the
+stranger with a voice like scalding acid. "Listen, you," she said,
+pointing a finger at the man. "Who do you think you are--my husband?"
+
+"By the Stars--" the stranger began.
+
+"Don't bother trying to scare me with your big mouth," Kathy went on
+imperturbably. "You don't mean a thing to me and you can't order me
+around. What's more, you know it. You're not my husband, you big
+thug--and you're never going to be. I'll sleep with whomever I please,
+and whenever I please, and wherever I please, and that's the way things
+are going to be. After all, lard-head, it's my job, isn't it? Got any
+questions?"
+
+Her _job_?
+
+Forrester began to wonder just what he had managed to walk into now. But
+that was a detail. The important thing was that his Godhood had been
+grossly, unbelievably insulted--and at a damned inconvenient time, too!
+
+He stepped between Kathy and the intruder, his eyes flashing fire. "Do
+you know who I am? Do you know that--"
+
+"Of course he knows," Kathy put in abruptly. "And if you don't want to
+get hurt, I'd advise you to stay out of this little quarrel."
+
+Forrester turned and stared at her.
+
+What the everlasting bloody hell was going _on_?
+
+But there wasn't any time to think. The intruder put his face up near
+Forrester's and glared at him. "Sure I know who you are, buster," he
+said. "You're a wise guy. You're a Johnny-come-lately. And I know what I
+ought to do with you, too--take you apart, limb by limb!"
+
+That did it. Forrester, seeing several shades of red, decided that no
+God could possibly object if this ugly blasphemer were blasted off the
+face of the Earth. He raised a hand.
+
+And Kathy grabbed it. "_Don't!_" she said in a frightened tone.
+
+The intruder grinned wolfishly at him. "Pay no attention to Little Miss
+Sacktime over there, Forrester. You go right ahead and try it! All I
+need is an excuse to vaporize you. Just one tiny little excuse--and I'll
+do the job so damn quick, your head won't even have time to start
+swimming." He set himself. "Go on. Let's see your stuff, Forrester."
+
+Forrester's arm came down, without his being aware of it. There was only
+room in his mind for one thought.
+
+The intruder had called him Forrester.
+
+Where had he gotten the name?
+
+And, for that matter, how had he seen the two of them in the darkness?
+
+While the questions were still spinning in Forrester's mind, Kathy threw
+herself forward between him and the stranger. "Ares!" she screamed. "You
+stupid, jealous idiot! Get some sense into that battle-scarred brain of
+yours! Are you completely crazy?"
+
+"Now you listen to me--" the stranger began.
+
+"Listen, nothing! If you want to pick a fight, do it with me--I can
+fight back! But if you lay a hand on Forrester, we'll never find
+another--"
+
+The stranger reached out casually and clamped one huge paw over her
+mouth. "Shut up," he said, almost quietly. He glanced at Forrester and
+went on, in the same tone: "Don't give away everything you've got,
+chum."
+
+A second passed and then he took the hand away. Kathy said nothing at
+all for a moment, and then she nodded.
+
+"All right," she said. "You're right. We shouldn't be losing our tempers
+just now. But I didn't start--"
+
+"Didn't you?" the stranger said.
+
+Kathy shrugged. "Well, never mind it now." She turned to Forrester. "You
+know who we are now, don't you?"
+
+Forrester nodded very slowly. How else could the man have come through
+the cordon of Myrmidons and seen them in the darkness? How else would he
+have dared to face up to Dionysus--confident that he could beat him? And
+how else could all this argument have gone on without anyone hearing it?
+
+For that matter, why else would the argument have begun--unless the
+stranger and Kathy were--
+
+"Sure," he said, as if he had known it all along. "You're Mars and
+Venus."
+
+He could feel cold death approaching.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN
+
+
+William Forrester sat, quite alone, in the room which had been given him
+on Mount Olympus. He stared out of the window, a little smaller than the
+window in Venus' rooms, at the Grecian plain far below, without actually
+seeing. There was no vertigo this time; small matters like that couldn't
+bother him.
+
+The whole room was rather a small one, as Gods' rooms went, but it had
+the same varicolored shifting walls, the same furniture that appeared
+when you approached it. Forrester was beginning to get used to it now,
+and he didn't know if it was going to do him any good.
+
+He peered down, trying to discern the patrolling Myrmidons around the
+base and lower slopes of the mountain, placed there to discourage
+overeager climbers from trying to reach the home of the Gods. Of course
+he couldn't see them, and after a while he lost interest again. Matters
+were too serious to allow time for that kind of game.
+
+The Autumn Bacchanal was over, a thing of the past, on the way to the
+distortion of legend. Forrester's greatest triumph had ended--in his
+greatest fiasco.
+
+He closed his eyes as he sat in his room, the fluctuating colors on the
+walls going unappreciated. He had nothing to do now except wait for the
+final judgment of the Gods.
+
+At first he had been terrified. But terror could only last so long, and,
+as the time ticked by, the idea of that coming judgment had almost
+stopped troubling his mind. Either he had passed the tests or he hadn't.
+There was no point in worrying about the inevitable. He felt
+anesthetized, numb to any sensation of personal danger. There was
+nothing whatever he could do. The Gods had him; very well, let the Gods
+worry about what to do with him.
+
+Freed, his mind turned over and over a problem that seemed new to him at
+first. Gradually, he realized it wasn't new at all; it had been
+somewhere in the back of his thoughts from the very first, when Venus
+had told him that he had been chosen as a double for Dionysus, so many
+months ago. It seemed like years to Forrester, and yet, at the same
+time, like no more than hours. So much had happened, and so much had
+changed....
+
+But the question had remained, waiting until he could look at it and
+work with it. Now he could face that strange doubt in his mind, the
+doubt that had colored everything since his introduction to the Gods,
+that had grown as his training in demi-Godhood had progressed, and that
+was now, for the first time, coming to full consciousness. Every time it
+had come near the surface, before this day, he had expelled it from his
+mind, forcefully getting rid of it without realizing fully that he was
+doing so.
+
+And perhaps, he thought, the doubt had begun even earlier than that.
+Perhaps he had always doubted, and never allowed himself to think about
+the doubt. The floor of his mind seemed to open and he was falling,
+falling....
+
+But where the doubt had begun was unimportant now. It was present, it
+had grown; that was all that mattered. He could find facts to feed the
+doubt and strengthen it, and he looked at the facts one by one:
+
+First there was the angry conversation between Mars and Venus, on the
+night of the Bacchanal.
+
+He could still hear what Mars had said:
+
+"_... worse than your predecessor._"
+
+And then he'd shut Venus up before she gave away too much--realizing,
+maybe, that he had given away a good deal himself. That one little
+sentence was enough to bring everything into question, Forrester
+thought.
+
+He had wondered why it had been necessary to have a double for Dionysus,
+but he hadn't actually thought about it; maybe he hadn't wanted to think
+about it. But now, with the notion of a "predecessor" for Venus in his
+mind, he _had_ to think about it, and the only conclusion he could come
+to was a disturbing one. It did more than disturb him, as a matter of
+fact--it frightened him. He wanted desperately to find some flaw in the
+conclusion he faced, because he feared it even more than he feared the
+coming judgment of the Pantheon.
+
+But there wasn't any flaw. The facts meshed together entirely too well
+to be an accidental pattern.
+
+In the first place, he thought, why had he been picked for the job? He
+was a nobody, of no importance, with no special gifts. Why did he
+deserve the honor of taking his place beside Hercules and Achilles and
+Odysseus and the other great heroes? Forrester knew he wasn't any hero.
+But what gave him his standing?
+
+And, he went on, there was a second place. In the months of his training
+he had met fourteen of the Gods--all of them, except for Dionysus. Now,
+what kind of sense did that make? Anyone who's going to have a double
+usually trains the double himself, if it's at all possible. Or, at the
+very least, he allows the double to watch his actions, so that the
+double can do a really competent job of imitation.
+
+And if an imitation is all that's needed, why not hire an actor instead
+of a history professor?
+
+Vulcan had told him: "You were picked not merely for your physical
+resemblance to Dionysus, but your psychological resemblance as well."
+
+That had to be true, if only because, as far as Forrester could see,
+nobody had the slightest reason to lie about it. But why should it be
+true? What advantage did the Gods get out of that "psychological
+resemblance"? All he was supposed to be was a double--and anybody who
+_looked_ like Dionysus would be accepted _as_ Dionysus by the people.
+The "psychological resemblance" didn't have a single thing to do with
+it.
+
+Mars, Venus, Vulcan--even Zeus had dropped clues. Zeus had referred to
+him as a "substitute for Dionysus."
+
+A substitute, he realized with a kind of horror, was not at all the same
+thing as a double.
+
+The answer was perfectly clear, but there were even more facts to
+bolster it. Why had he been tested, for instance, _after_ he had been
+made a demi-God? In spite of what Vulcan had said, was he slated for
+further honors if he passed the new tests? He was sure that Vulcan had
+been telling the truth as far as he'd gone--but it hadn't been the whole
+truth. Forrester was certain of that now.
+
+And what was it that Venus had said during that argument with Mars?
+Something about not killing Forrester, because then they would have to
+"get another--"
+
+Another _what_?
+
+Another _substitute_?
+
+No, there was no escape from the simple and obvious conclusion. Dionysus
+was either missing, which was bad enough, or something much worse.
+
+He was dead.
+
+Forrester shivered. The idea of an immortal God dying was, in one way,
+as horrible a notion as he could imagine. But in another way, it seemed
+to make a good deal of sense. As far as plain William Forrester had been
+concerned, the contradiction in the notion of a dead immortal would have
+made it ridiculous to start with. But the demi-God Dionysus had a
+somewhat different slant on things.
+
+After all, as Vulcan had told him, a demi-God could die. And if that was
+true, then why couldn't a God die too? Perhaps it would take quite a lot
+to kill a God--but the difference would be one of degree, not of kind.
+
+It seemed wholly logical. And it led, Forrester saw, to a new
+conclusion, one that required a little less effort to face than he
+thought it would. It should have shaken the foundations of his childhood
+and left him dizzy, but somehow it didn't. How long, he asked himself,
+had he been secretly doubting the fact that the Gods were Gods?
+
+At least in the sense they pretended to be, the "Gods" were not gods at
+all. They were--something else.
+
+But what? Where did they come from?
+
+Were they actually the Gods of ancient Greece, as they claimed?
+Forrester wanted to throw that claim out with the rest, but when he
+thought things over he didn't see why he should. To an almost
+indestructible being, three thousand years may only be a long time.
+
+So the Gods actually were "Gods," at least as far as longevity went. But
+the decision didn't get him very far; there were still a lot of
+questions unanswered, and no way that he could see of answering them.
+
+Or, rather, there was one way, but it was hellishly dangerous. He had no
+business even thinking about. He was in enough hot water already.
+
+Nevertheless....
+
+What more harm could he do to his chances? After the Bacchanal fiasco,
+there was probably a sentence of death hanging over his head anyhow. And
+they couldn't do any more to him than kill him.
+
+It was ridiculous, he told himself, with a return of caution and sanity.
+But the notion came back, nagging at his mind, and at last it took a new
+form.
+
+The Gods had the rest of the information he needed. He had to go to one
+of them--but which one?
+
+His first thought was Venus. But, after a moment of thought, he ruled
+her regretfully out as a possibility. After all, there was Mars' mention
+of her "predecessor." If that meant anything, it meant that the current
+Venus wasn't the original one. She would have a lot less information
+than one of the original Gods.
+
+_If there were any originals left...._
+
+He tabled that thought hurriedly and went on. Vulcan had told him at
+least a part of the truth, and Vulcan looked like a good bet. Forrester
+didn't like the idea of bearding the artisan in his workshop; it made
+him feel uncomfortable, and after a while he put his finger on the
+reason. His little liaison with Venus made him feel guilty. There was,
+he knew, no real reason for it. In the first place, he hadn't known the
+girl was Venus, and in the second place she may not have been the same
+one who had been Vulcan's original wife, thirty and more centuries ago.
+
+But the guilt remained, and he tabled Vulcan for the time being and went
+on.
+
+Morpheus, Hera, and most of the others he passed by without a glance;
+there was no reason for them to dislike him, but there was no reason for
+comradeship, either. Mars popped into his mind, and popped right out
+again. That would be putting his head in the lion's mouth with a
+vengeance.
+
+No, there was only one left, the obvious choice, the one who had helped
+him throughout his training period--Diana. She genuinely seemed to like
+him. She was also a good kid. The thought alone was almost enough to
+make him smile fondly, and would have if he had not remembered the peril
+he was in.
+
+He turned away from the window to look at the color-swirled wall across
+the room. He had remained in his room ever since Mars and Venus had
+brought him back from New York, and he wasn't at all sure that he could
+leave it. In the normal sense of the word, the place had neither exits
+nor entrances. The only way of getting in or out of the place was via
+the Veils of Heaven--matter transmitters, not something supernatural, he
+realized now.
+
+As far as Forrester knew, they still worked. But the Gods could generate
+a Veil anywhere, at any time. Forrester, as a demi-God, could only will
+one into existence on sufferance; he could only work the
+matter-transmitting Veils if the Gods permitted him to do so. If they
+didn't, he was trapped.
+
+Well, he told himself, there was one way to find out.
+
+He walked over to the wall and stood a few feet away from it,
+concentrating in the way he had been taught. He was still slower at it
+than the Gods themselves, and hadn't developed the knack of forming a
+Veil as he walked toward the place where he wanted it to be, as they
+had.
+
+But he knew he could do it--if he was still allowed to.
+
+Minutes went by.
+
+Then, as the blue sheet of neural energy flickered into being, Forrester
+slumped in sudden relief. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
+
+The Veil was there--but was it what he hoped, or a trick? Possibly he
+could focus the other terminal where he wanted it, but there was also
+the chance that the Gods had set the thing up so that, when he stepped
+through, he would be standing in the Court of the Gods facing a tribunal
+for which he was totally unprepared.
+
+It would be just like the Pantheon, he thought, to pull a lousy trick
+like that.
+
+But there was no point in dithering. If death was to be his fate, that
+would be that. He could do nothing at all by sitting in his room and
+waiting for them to come and get him.
+
+He focused the exit terminal in Diana's apartment. There was no way of
+knowing whether the focus worked or not until he stepped through.
+
+He opened his eyes and walked into the Veil.
+
+He felt almost disappointed when he looked around him. He had steeled
+himself to do great battle with the Gods--and, instead, he was where he
+had wanted to be, in Diana's apartment.
+
+She was standing with her back to him, and Forrester didn't make a
+sound, not wanting to startle the Goddess. She was totally unclad, her
+glorious body shining in the light of the room, her blue-black hair
+unbound and falling halfway down her gently curved back. But she must
+have heard him somehow, for she turned, and for half a second she stood
+facing him.
+
+Forrester did not move. He couldn't even breathe.
+
+Every magnificent curve was highlighted in a frozen tableau.
+
+Then there was a sudden flash of white, and she was clad in a clinging
+_chiton_ which, Forrester saw, served only to remind one of what one had
+recently seen. It worked very well, although Forrester did not think he
+had any need for an aid to his memory.
+
+"My goodness!" Diana said. "You shouldn't surprise a girl like that! I
+mean, you really gave me a shock, kid!"
+
+Forrester took his first breath. "Well," he said, "I could be dishonest,
+not to mention ungallant, and tell you I was sorry."
+
+"But?" Diana said.
+
+"Being of sound mind and sound body, I'm a long way from being sorry."
+
+And Diana dropped her eyes and blushed.
+
+Forrester could barely believe it.
+
+But it did show a part of the Goddess's personality that was entirely
+new to him. He was sure that any of the Gods or Goddesses could sense
+when a Veil of Heaven was forming near them, and get prepared before it
+was well enough developed to allow for passage. But Diana--who was,
+after all, one of the traditionally virgin Goddesses, like Pallas
+Athena--had chosen to pretend surprise.
+
+Forrester had a further hunch, too. He thought she might have
+deliberately vanished her _chiton_ only a second or so before he
+entered. And that put a different--and a very interesting--face on
+things.
+
+Not to mention, he thought, an entire figure.
+
+But he didn't say anything. That wasn't his main business in Diana's
+apartment. Instead, he watched her smile briskly and say: "Well, you're
+here, anyhow, kid, and I guess that's enough for me. Want a drink? I
+could whip up some nectar--and maybe an ambrosia sandwich?"
+
+"I'll take the drink," Forrester said. "I'm not really hungry, thanks."
+
+Diana held out her hands, fingers curved inward, and a crystal cup of
+clear, golden liquid appeared in each--matter transmission, of course,
+not magic. She handed one over to Forrester, who took it and looked the
+Goddess straight in the eyes.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "Diana, I've got some questions to ask you, and I
+hope I'll get the answers."
+
+She touched the rim of her cup to his. Her voice was very soft, but she
+didn't hesitate in the least. "I'll answer any questions I have to. Sit
+down."
+
+They found chairs along the walls of the room and sat facing one
+another. Forrester took a sip of his drink, settled back, and tried to
+think where to begin. Well, God or no God, Zeus had the key to that one.
+He had said it years ago, and it had passed almost into legend:
+
+"Begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end, and then stop."
+
+Very well, Forrester thought. He cleared his throat. Diana looked at him
+inquiringly.
+
+"I don't know how far into the noose I'm putting my head with this one,
+Diana," he said. "But I trust you--and I've got to ask somebody."
+
+"Go ahead," she said quietly.
+
+"First question. The original Dionysus is dead, isn't he?"
+
+She paused for a moment before answering. "Yes, he is."
+
+"And I was scheduled to take his place."
+
+"That's right."
+
+"As a full God," Forrester said.
+
+Diana nodded.
+
+There was a little silence.
+
+"Diana," Forrester said, "what are the Gods?"
+
+She got up and crossed to the window. Looking out, she said: "Before I
+answer that, I want you to tell me what you think we are."
+
+"Men and women," he said. "More or less human, like myself. Except
+you've somehow managed to get so far ahead of any kind of science Earth
+knows that, even today, your effects can only be explained as 'magic' or
+'miracle.'"
+
+"How could we get that far ahead of you?"
+
+Forrester took a leap in the dark to the only conclusion he could see.
+"You're not from Earth," he said. "You're from another planet." The
+words sounded strange in his own ears--but Diana didn't even act
+surprised.
+
+"That's right," she said. "We're from another planet--or, rather, from
+several other planets."
+
+"_Several?_" Forrester exclaimed. "But--oh. I see. Pan, for instance--"
+
+Diana nodded. "Pan isn't even really humanoid. His home is a planet
+where his type of goatlike life evolved. Neither Pluto nor Neptune is
+humanoid, either; they're a little closer than Pan, but not really very
+close when you get a good look. The rest of the Gods are humanoid--but
+not human."
+
+"Wait a minute," Forrester said. "Venus is human. Or, anyhow, she's a
+replacement, just the way I was slated to be a replacement for
+Dionysus."
+
+Diana drained her cup and clapped her hands together on it. The cup
+vanished. Forrester did the same to his own. "Correct," she said. "Venus
+just--just disappeared once. They got an Etruscan girl to replace her.
+She's not the only replacement, either."
+
+Forrester stared. "Who else?"
+
+"You tell me."
+
+He thought the list of Gods over. "Zeus," he said.
+
+Diana smiled. "Yes, Zeus is a long way from the great hero of the
+legends, isn't he? Using the old calendar, Zeus died in about 1100 B.C.,
+not too long after the close of the Trojan War. As far as anybody knows,
+Neptune did the actual killing, but it's pretty clear that the original
+idea wasn't his."
+
+"Hera's," Forrester guessed.
+
+"Of course," Diana said. "What she wanted was a figurehead she could
+control--and that's what she got. Though I'm not sure she's entirely
+happy with the change. If the original Zeus was a little harder to
+control, at least he seems to have had an original thought now and
+again."
+
+Forrester sat quietly for a time, waiting for the shock to pass. "What
+about Dionysus?"
+
+Diana shrugged. "He--well, as far as anybody's ever been able to tell,
+it was suicide. About three years ago, and it drove Hera pretty wild,
+trying to find a substitute in a hurry. I suspect he was bored with the
+wine, women and song. He'd had a long time of it. And, too, he'd had
+some little disagreements with Hera. As you may have gathered, she is
+not exactly a safe person to have as an enemy. He probably figured she'd
+get him sooner or later, so he might as well save her the trouble."
+
+"And Hera had to rush to get a replacement? Why couldn't there just have
+been some sort of explanation, while the rest of you ran things?"
+
+"Because the rest of us couldn't run things. Not for long, anyhow. It's
+all a question of power."
+
+"Power?" Forrester said.
+
+"Everything we have," Diana said, "is derived, directly or indirectly,
+from the workings of one machine. Though 'machine' is a long way from
+the right word for it--it bears about as much resemblance to what you
+think of as a machine as a television set does to a window. There just
+isn't a word for it in any language you know."
+
+"And all the Gods have to work the machine at once?"
+
+"Something like that." Diana came back from the window and sat down
+facing him again. "It operates through the nervous systems of the beings
+in circuit with it, each one of them in contact with one of the power
+nodes of the machine. And if one of the nodes is unoccupied, then the
+machine's out of balance. It will run for a while, but eventually it
+will simply wreck itself. Every one of the fifteen nodes has to be
+occupied. Otherwise--chaos."
+
+Forrester nodded. "So when Dionysus died--"
+
+"We had to find a replacement in a hurry. The machine's been running out
+of balance for about as long as it can stand right now."
+
+Forrester closed his eyes. "I'm not sure I get the picture."
+
+"Well, look at it this way: suppose you have a wheel."
+
+"All right," Forrester said obligingly. "I have a wheel."
+
+"And this wheel has fifteen weights on it. They're spaced equally around
+the rim, and the wheel's revolving at high speed."
+
+Forrester kept his eyes closed. When he had the wheel nicely spinning,
+he said: "Okay. Now what?"
+
+"Well," Diana said, "as long as the weights stay in place, the wheel
+spins evenly. But if you remove one of the weights, the wheel's out of
+balance. It starts to wobble."
+
+Forrester took one of the weights (Dionysus, a rather large, jolly
+weight) off the wheel in his mind. It wobbled. "Right," he said.
+
+"It can take the wobble for a little while. But unless the balance is
+restored in time, the wheel will eventually break."
+
+Hurriedly, Forrester put Dionysus back on the wheel. The wobble stopped.
+"Oh," he said. "I see."
+
+"Our power machine works in that sort of way. That is, it requires all
+fifteen occupants. Dionysus has been dead for three years now, and
+that's about the outside limit. Unless he's replaced soon, the machine
+will be ruined."
+
+Forrester opened his eyes. The wheel spun away and disappeared. "So you
+found me to replace Dionysus. I had to look like him, so the mortals
+wouldn't see any difference. And the psychological similarity--"
+
+"That's right," Diana said. "It's the same as the wheel again. If you
+remove a weight, you've got to put back a weight of the same magnitude.
+Otherwise, the wheel's still out of balance."
+
+"And since the power machine works through the nervous system--"
+
+"The governing factor is that similarity. You've got to be of the same
+magnitude as Dionysus. Of course, you don't have to be an _identical_
+copy. The machine can be adjusted for _slight_ differences."
+
+"I see," Forrester said. "And the fifteen power nodes--" Another idea
+occurred to him. "Wait a minute. If there are only fifteen power nodes,
+then how come there were so many different Gods and Goddesses among the
+Greeks? There were a lot more than fifteen back then."
+
+"Of course there were," Diana said, "but they weren't real Gods. As a
+matter of fact, some of them didn't really exist."
+
+Forrester frowned. "How's that again?"
+
+"They were just disguises for one of the regular fifteen. Aesculapius,
+for instance, the old God of medicine, was Hermes/Mercury in
+disguise--he took the name in honor of a physician of the time. He would
+have raised the man to demi-Godhood, but Aesculapius died unexpectedly,
+and we thought taking his 'spirit' into the Pantheon was good public
+relations."
+
+"How about the others?" Forrester said. "They weren't all disguises,
+were they?"
+
+"Of course not. Some of them were demi-Gods, just like yourself. Their
+power was derived, like yours, from the Pantheon instead of directly
+through the machine. And then there were the satyrs and centaurs, and
+suchlike beings. That was public relations, too--mainly Zeus' idea, I
+understand. The original Zeus, of course."
+
+"Of course," Forrester said.
+
+"The satyrs and such were artificial life-forms, created, maintained and
+controlled by the machine itself. It's equipped with what you might call
+a cybernetic brain--although that's pretty inadequate as a description.
+Vulcan could do a better job of explaining."
+
+"Perfectly all right. I don't understand that kind of thing anyhow."
+
+"Well, in that case, let me put it this way. The machine controlled
+these artificial forms, but they could be taken over by any one of the
+Gods or demi-Gods for special purposes. As I say, it was public
+relations--and a good way to keep the populace impressed--and under
+control."
+
+"The creatures aren't around nowadays," Forrester pointed out.
+
+"Nowadays we don't need them," Diana said. "There are other
+methods--better public relations, I suppose."
+
+Forrester didn't know he was going to ask his next question until he
+heard himself doing so. But it was the question he really wanted to ask;
+he knew that as soon as he knew he asked it.
+
+"Why?" he said.
+
+Diana looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Why? What do you mean?"
+
+"Why go on being Gods? Why dominate humanity?"
+
+"I suppose I could answer your question with another question--why not?
+But I won't. Instead, let me remind you of some things. Look what we've
+done during the last century. The great wars that wrecked Europe--you
+don't see any possibility of more of those, do you? And the threat of
+atomic war is gone, too, isn't it?"
+
+"Well, yes," Forrester said, "but--"
+
+"But we still have wars," Diana said. "Sure we do. The male animal just
+wouldn't be happy if he didn't have a chance to go out and get himself
+blown to bits once in a while. Don't ask _me_ to explain that--I'm not a
+male."
+
+Forrester agreed silently. Diana was not a male. It was the most
+understated statement he had ever heard.
+
+"But anyhow," Diana said, "they want wars, so they have wars. Mars sees
+that the wars stay small and keep within the Martian Conventions,
+though, so any really widespread damage or destruction, or any wanton
+attacks on civilians, are a thing of the past. And it's not only wars,
+kid. It's everything."
+
+"What do you mean, everything?"
+
+"Man needs a god, a personal god. When he doesn't have one ready to
+hand, he makes one up--and look at the havoc that has caused. A god of
+vengeance, a god who cheers you on to kill your enemies.... You've
+studied history. Tell me about the gods of various nations. Tell me
+about Thor and Baal and the original bloodthirsty Yahweh. People _need_
+gods."
+
+"Now wait a minute," Forrester objected. "The Chinese--"
+
+"Oh, sure," Diana said. "There are exceptions. But you can't bank on the
+exceptions. If you want a reasonably safe, sane and happy humanity, then
+you'd better make sure your gods are not going to start screaming for
+war against the neighbors or against the infidels or against--well,
+against anybody and everybody. There's only one way to make sure, kid.
+We've found that way. We _are_ the Gods."
+
+Forrester digested that one slowly. "It sounds great, but it's pretty
+altruistic. And while I don't want to impugn anybody's motives, it does
+seem to me that--"
+
+"That we ought to be getting something out of it ourselves, above and
+beyond the pure joy of helping humanity. Sure. You're perfectly right.
+And we _do_ get something out of it."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+Diana grinned. She looked more like a tomboy than ever before. "Fun,"
+she said. "And you know it. Don't tell me you didn't get a kick out of
+playing God at the Bacchanal."
+
+"Well," Forrester confessed, "yes." He sighed. "And I guess that
+Bacchanal is going to be the one really high spot in a very shortened
+sort of life."
+
+Diana sat upright. "What are you talking about?"
+
+"What else would I be talking about? The Bacchanal. You know what
+happened. You must know--everybody must by now. Mars is probably
+demanding my head from Hera right now. Unless he's got more complicated
+ideas like taking me apart limb by limb. I remember he mentioned that."
+
+Diana stood up and came over to Forrester. "Why would Mars do something
+like that and especially now? And what makes you think Hera would go
+along with him if he did?"
+
+"Why not? Now that I've failed my tests--"
+
+"_Failed?_" Diana cried. "You _haven't_ failed!"
+
+Forrester stood up shakily. "Of course I have. After what happened at
+the Bacchanal, I--"
+
+"Don't pay any attention to that," Diana said. "Mars is a louse. Always
+has been, I hear. Nobody likes him. As a matter of fact, you've just
+passed your finals. The last test was to see if you could figure out who
+we were--and you've done that, haven't you?"
+
+There was a long, taut silence.
+
+Then Diana laughed. "Your face looks the way mine must have, over three
+thousand years ago!"
+
+"What are you talking about?" Still dazed, he wasn't quite sure he had
+heard her rightly.
+
+"When they told me the same thing. After the original Diana was killed
+in a 'hunting accident'--frankly, she seems to have been too independent
+to suit Hera--and I passed my own finals, I--"
+
+She stopped.
+
+"Now don't look at me like that," Diana said. "And pull yourself
+together, because we've got to get to the Final Investiture. But it's
+all true. I'm a substitute too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+
+The Great God Dionysus, Lord of the Vine, Ruler of the Revels, Master of
+the Planting and the Harvest, Bestower of the Golden Touch, Overseer of
+the Poor, Comforter of the Worker and Patron of the Drunkard, sat
+silently in a cheap bar on Lower Third Avenue, New York, slowly imbibing
+his seventh brandy-and-soda. It tasted anything but satisfactory as it
+went down; he preferred vodka or even gin, but after all, he asked
+himself, if a God couldn't be loyal to his own products, then who could?
+
+He was dressed in an inexpensive brown suit, and his face did not look
+like that of Dionysus, or even of William Forrester. Though neatly
+turned out, he looked a little like an out-of-work bookkeeper. But it
+was obvious that he hadn't been out of work for very long.
+
+_Hell of a note_, he thought, _when a God has to skulk in some cheap bar
+just because some other God has it in for him_.
+
+But that, unfortunately, was the way Mars was. It didn't matter to him
+that none of what happened had been Forrester's fault. In the first
+place, Forrester hadn't known that the girl at the Bacchanal had been
+Venus until it was much too late for apologies. In the second place, he
+hadn't even picked her; he'd kept his promise not to use his powers on
+the spinning figure of Mr. Bottle Symes. But Venus had made no such
+promise. Venus had rigged the game.
+
+But try explaining that to Mars.
+
+He didn't seem to mind what went on at the Revels of Aphrodite--being
+Goddess of Love was her line of work, and even Mars appeared to
+recognize that much. But he didn't like the idea of any extracurricular
+work, especially with other Gods. And if anything occurred, he, Mars,
+was sure damned well going to find out about it and see that something
+was done about it, yes, sir.
+
+Forrester finished his drink and stared at the empty glass. It had all
+begun on the day of his Final Investiture, and he had gone through every
+event in memory, over and over. Why, he didn't know. But it was
+something to do while he hid.
+
+It hadn't been anywhere near as simple as the Investiture he had gone
+through to become a demi-God. All fourteen of the other Gods had been
+there this time; a simple quorum wasn't enough. Pluto, with his
+dead-black, light-absorbent skin casting a shade of gloom about him, had
+slouched into the Court of the Gods, looking at everybody and everything
+with lackluster eyes. Poseidon/Neptune had come in more briskly,
+smelling of fish, his skin pale green and glistening wet, his fingers
+and toes webbed and his eyes bulging and wide. Phoebus Apollo had
+strolled in, looking authentically like a Greek God, face and figure
+unbelievably perfect, and a pleased, stupid smile spread all over his
+countenance. Hermes/Mercury, slim and wily, with a foxy face and quick
+movements, had slipped in silently. And all the others had been there,
+too. Mars looked grim, but when Forrester was formally proposed for
+Godhood, Mars made no objection.
+
+The entire Pantheon had then gone single-file through a Veil of Heaven
+to a room Forrester just couldn't remember fully. At the time, his eyes
+simply refused to make sense out of the place. Now, of course, he
+understood why: it didn't really exist in the space-time framework he
+was used to. Instead, it was partially a four-dimensional
+pseudo-manifold superimposed on normal space. If not perfectly simple,
+at least the explanation made matters rational rather than supernatural.
+But, at the time, everything seemed to take place in a chaotic dream
+world where infinite distance and the space next to him seemed one and
+the same. He knew then why Diana had told him that the word "machine"
+could not describe the Gods' power source.
+
+He had been seated there in the dream room. But it wasn't exactly
+sitting; every spatial configuration took on strange properties in that
+pseudo-space, and he seemed to float in a place that had neither
+dimension nor direction. The other Gods had all seemed to be sitting in
+front of him, all together and all at once--yet, at the same time, each
+had been separate and distinct from the others.
+
+He wanted to close his eyes, but he had been warned against doing that.
+Grimly, he kept them open.
+
+And then the indescribable began to happen. It was as though every nerve
+in his body had been indissolubly linked to the great source of
+God-power. It was pure, hellish torture, and at the same time it was the
+most exquisite pleasure he had ever known. He could not imagine how long
+it went on--but, eventually, it ended.
+
+He was Dionysus/Bacchus.
+
+And then it had been over, and a banquet had been held in his honor, a
+celebration for the new God. Everyone seemed to enjoy the occasion, and
+Forrester himself had been feeling pretty good until Mars, smiling a
+smile that only touched his lips and left his eyes as cold and hard as
+anything Forrester had ever seen, had come up to him and said softly:
+
+"All right, Dionysus. You're a God now. I didn't touch you before
+because we needed you. And I don't intend to kill you now; replacements
+are too hard to find. I'm only going to beat you--to within an inch of
+your damned immortal life. Just remember that, buster."
+
+And then, the smile still set on his face, he had turned and swaggered
+away.
+
+Forrester had thought of Vulcan.
+
+Mars wasn't a killer, in spite of his bully-boy tactics. He had too good
+a military mind to discipline a valuable man to death. But he was more
+than willing to go as near to that point as possible, if he thought it
+justified. And what he allowed as justification resided in a code all
+his own.
+
+"Right" was what was good for Mars. "Wrong" was what disturbed him. That
+was the code, as simple, as black and white, as you could ask for.
+Vulcan was one of the results.
+
+Vulcan had been Venus' lawful husband, as far as the laws of the Gods
+went. That didn't matter to Mars--when he wanted Venus. He had thrashed
+Vulcan, and the beating had left permanent damage.
+
+The damage was translated into Vulcan's limp. Any God's ability to heal
+himself through the machine's power was dependent on the God's own
+mentality and outlook. And Vulcan had never been able to cure his limp;
+the psychic punishment had been too great.
+
+Forrester ordered another drink and tried to think about something else.
+The prospect of a fight with Mars was sometimes a little too much for
+him to handle.
+
+The drink arrived and he sipped at it vacantly, thinking back to Diana
+and her story of the Gods.
+
+There was one hole in it--a hole big enough to toss Mount Olympus
+through, he realized. Where had the Gods gone for three thousand years?
+And how had they gotten to Earth in the first place?
+
+Those two unanswered questions were enough to convince Forrester that,
+in spite of all he knew, and in spite of the way his new viewpoint had
+turned his universe upside down in a matter of hours, he still didn't
+have the whole story. He had to find it--even more so, now, as he began
+to realize that the human race deserved more than just the "security"
+and "happiness" that the Gods could give them. It deserved independence,
+and the chance to make or mar its own future. Protection was all very
+well for the infancy of a race, but man was growing up now. Man needed
+to make his own world.
+
+The Gods had no place in that world, Forrester saw. He had to find the
+answers to all of his questions--and now he thought he knew a way to do
+it.
+
+"Want another, buddy?"
+
+The bartender's voice roused Forrester from his reverie. He had
+absent-mindedly finished brandy-and-soda number eight.
+
+"Okay," Forrester said. "Sure." He handed the bartender a ten-dollar
+bill and got a kind of wry pleasure out of seeing the picture of
+Dionysus on its face. "Let's have another, but more brandy and less soda
+this time."
+
+The drink was brought and he sipped at it, looking like any ordinary
+citizen taking on a small load, but tuned to every fluctuation in the
+energy levels around him, waiting.
+
+Only a God, he knew, could hurt another God, and even then it took
+plenty of power to do it. Actually to kill a God required the combined
+efforts of more than one, under normal circumstances--though one,
+properly equipped and with some luck, could manage it. As far as his own
+situation was concerned, Forrester was prepared for a deadly assault
+from Mars. Maybe Mars didn't intend to kill him, but being maimed for
+centuries, like Vulcan, was nothing to look forward to, and it was just
+as well to be on the safe side. Just in case the God of War had managed
+to get one or two other Gods on his side, Forrester had talked to Diana
+and Venus, and had their agreement to step in on his side if things got
+rough, or if Mars tried to pull anything underhanded.
+
+And any minute now....
+
+Suddenly Forrester felt a disturbance in the energy flow around him.
+Somewhere behind him, invisible to the mortals who occupied the bar, a
+Veil of Heaven was beginning to form.
+
+With a fraction of a second, Forrester was forming his own. But this
+time he took a little longer than he had before.
+
+It wasn't the first time he'd had to run. For over a month now, he had
+been jumping from place to place, all over the world. He had gone to
+Hong Kong first. When Mars had traced him there and made a grab for him,
+Forrester had made a quick jump, via Veil, to Durban, South Africa. It
+had taken Mars all of forty-eight hours to find Forrester hiding in the
+native quarter, wearing the _persona_ of a Negro laborer. But again
+Forrester had disappeared, this time reappearing in Lima, Peru.
+
+And so it had gone for five full weeks, with Forrester keeping barely
+one jump ahead of the God of War.
+
+And, in that month, he had achieved two important things.
+
+First, he had begun to make Mars a little overconfident. By now Mars was
+fully convinced that Forrester was nothing but a coward, and he was
+absolutely certain that he could beat the newcomer easily, if he could
+only come to grips with him.
+
+Second, Forrester had discovered that Mars' basic reflexes were a trifle
+slower than his own.
+
+If Mars had been able to form his own Veil and step through it in time
+to sense the last fading glimmers of Forrester's Veil, he would have
+been able to follow immediately. Instead, he had to go to all the
+trouble of finding Forrester over and over again. That meant slower
+reflexes--and that, Forrester thought, might just give him the edge he
+needed.
+
+But this time, Forrester was going to let Mars follow him--slow
+reflexes and all. This time, he waited that extra fraction of a
+second--and then stepped through the Veil.
+
+He was in the middle of a great rain forest. Around him towered trees
+whose great trunks reached up to a leafy sky. The place was dark; little
+sunlight came through the roof of leaves and curling vines. A bird
+screamed somewhere in the distance, sounding like a lost soul in agony;
+the sound was repeated, and then there was silence.
+
+Forrester was exactly where he had intended to be: in the middle of the
+Amazon jungle.
+
+He had time for one look around. Then Mars stepped out of a shimmering
+Veil only yards away from where Forrester was standing. Immediately,
+Forrester felt Mars throw out a suppressor field that would keep him
+from forming another Veil. He did the same thing. Now, as long as both
+held their respective fields, neither could leave.
+
+"Greetings," Forrester said.
+
+The bird screamed again. Mars ignored it.
+
+"You're just a little too slow," he said, grinning. "And now, buster,
+you're going to get it--and get it good."
+
+"Who?" Forrester said. "Me?"
+
+Mars hissed his breath in and fired a blast of blue-white energy that
+would have drilled through a foot of armor plate. But Forrester blocked
+it; the splatter of free energy struck at the nearby trees, sending them
+crashing to the ground. A small blaze started.
+
+Forrester followed the blow with one of his own, but Mars parried
+quickly. A few more little fires began in the vicinity. Then Mars
+bellowed and charged.
+
+By the time he reached the spot where Forrester had been, Forrester was
+fifty feet in the air, standing with his arms folded and looking down in
+an interested manner.
+
+"You ought to watch out," he said. "You might stumble into a Venus
+Flycatcher down there. I mean besides the one you've got already."
+
+Mars' mouth dropped open. He gave vent to an inarticulate roar of rage
+and leaped into the air. As he rose toward Forrester, the defender
+closed his eyes and changed shape. He became a rock and dropped. He
+bounced off Mars' rising forehead with a great noise.
+
+Mars roared and dived for the stone--and found himself holding a large,
+angry tiger.
+
+But an old trick like that didn't fool Mars. Tiger-Forrester, suddenly
+finding himself fighting with another tiger as ferocious as himself,
+began clawing and biting his way free in a frenzy of panic. He managed
+to make it just long enough to become a stone again, dropping toward the
+Earth.
+
+For a moment, the other tiger seemed uncertain. Then, catching sight of
+the falling stone, he became an eagle, and went after it with a scream,
+claws outstretched and a glitter of hatred in the slitted eyes.
+
+Forrester reached the ground first. The eagle braked madly, trying to
+escape a giant Kodiak bear. Forrester stood on his hind legs and
+battered the air with great, murderous paws. Mars scooted upward,
+already changing into something capable of coping with the bear. A huge,
+bat-winged dragon, breathing barrels of smoke, flapped in the air,
+looking all around for its opponent. It did not notice Forrester
+scurrying away in the shape of an ant through the leaves and thick humus
+of the jungle floor.
+
+By now, the air was becoming smoky and the flames were licking up the
+sides of trees all through the vicinity, and racing along the giant
+vines that curled around them. The dragon belched more smoke, adding to
+the general confusion, and roared in a voice like thunder:
+
+"Coward! Dionysus! Come out and fight!"
+
+There was an instant of crackling silence.
+
+Then Forrester stepped out from behind a blazing tree. He, too, was a
+dragon.
+
+Mars snarled, breathed smoke and made a power dive. Forrester dodged and
+the fangs of the monster missed him by inches. Mars sank claw-deep into
+the ground, and Forrester slammed the War God on the side of his head
+with one mighty forepaw. Mars blew out a cloud of evil-smelling smoke
+and managed to jerk himself free. He leaped to all four feet, glaring at
+Forrester with great, bulging, hate-filled eyes.
+
+"Man to man, you bastard!" he said in a flame-filled roar.
+
+Forrester leaped back to avoid being scorched. He poured out some smoke
+of his own. Mars coughed.
+
+"Damn it, no more shape-changing!" the War God thundered.
+
+"Fair enough!" Forrester shouted. He changed back to his Dionysian form,
+circling warily until Mars had followed suit. Then the two began to
+close in slowly.
+
+Around them the forest burned, vegetation even on the swampy ground
+catching fire as the entire vicinity crackled and hissed with heat.
+Neither of them seemed to take any notice of the fact.
+
+Mars was a trained boxer and wrestler, Forrester knew. But it was
+probably a good many centuries since he'd had any real workouts, and
+Forrester was counting heavily on slowed-down reflexes. Those would give
+him a slight edge.
+
+At any rate, he hoped so.
+
+The circling ceased as Mars leaped forward suddenly and lashed out with
+a right to the jaw that could end the fight. But Forrester moved his
+head aside just in time and the fist glanced off his cheek. He staggered
+back just as Mars followed with a left jab to the belly.
+
+Forrester clamped down on the War God's wrist and twisted violently,
+pulling Mars on past him. The War God, caught off balance, lunged
+forward, tripping over his own feet, and almost fell as he went by.
+Forrester, grinning savagely, brought his right hand down on the back of
+Mars' neck with a blow whose force would have killed an elephant
+outright.
+
+Mars, however, was no mere elephant. He grunted and went down on his
+hands and knees, shaking his head groggily. But he wasn't out. Not
+quite.
+
+Forrester doubled up his fist as Mars tried to rise, and came down again
+with all the force he could muster, squarely on his opponent's neck.
+
+There was a satisfyingly loud crack, audible, even in the roar of the
+burning forest. Mars collapsed to the ground, smothering small fires
+beneath his bulk. Forrester leaped on top of him and grabbed his head,
+beard with one hand and hair with the other. He twisted and the War God
+screamed in agony. Forrester relaxed the pressure.
+
+"All right, now," he said through clenched teeth. "Your neck's broken,
+and all I've got to do is twist enough to sever your spinal column.
+You'll be crippled for as long as Vulcan has--maybe longer."
+
+Mars shrieked again. "I yield! I yield!"
+
+Forrester held on. "Not just yet you don't," he said grimly. "I want
+some information, and I'm going to get it out of you if I have to wring
+them out vertebra by vertebra."
+
+Mars tried to buck. Forrester twisted again and the War God subsided,
+breathing hard. At last he muttered: "What do you want to know?"
+
+"Why did you and the other Gods leave Earth for three thousand years?
+And where did you come from in the first place? I want the _real_
+reason, chum." He applied a little pressure, just as a reminder.
+
+"I'll tell you!" Mars screamed. "I'll tell you!"
+
+And as the roaring flames crackled in the Amazon forest, the agonized
+Mars began to talk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+
+Zeus, Venus, Diana and Forrester sat in the Court of the Gods, listening
+to a large, blue-skinned individual with bright red eyes and two long
+white fangs coming from a lipless mouth. The eyes were like a cat's,
+with slitted pupils, and the general expression on the individual's face
+was one of feral hatred and bestial madness. However, as he had
+explained, he was not responsible for the arrangement of his features.
+He was, he kept saying, only interested in the general welfare. What was
+more, it was his business to be interested. He was, as a matter of fact,
+a cop: Bor Mellistos, of the Interstellar Police.
+
+"My rank," he had told them mildly, "is about the equivalent of your
+Detective Inspector."
+
+"Technically," he was saying now, "you are all four guilty of being
+accessories--as I understand your local law phrases it. However--"
+
+He smiled. It made him look unbelievably horrible. Forrester tried not
+to pay any attention to it.
+
+"However," he went on, "in view of the fact that none of you could
+possibly have known that you were, in fact, accessories--that is, that
+you were dealing with a criminal group, if you understand me--plus the
+fact that Mr. Forrester, as soon as he did discover the facts, called us
+at once through the power machine--I feel that we can overlook your part
+in the matter."
+
+Venus frowned. "Wait a minute. I'm not sure I understand this at all.
+What crime are the Gods supposed to have committed?"
+
+"Not crime, miss," Bor Mellistos said. His eyes twinkled. Forrester
+gulped and turned away. "Crimes. Misuse of a neural power machine, for
+one--and the domination and enslavement of a less advanced intelligent
+culture for another. Both those are very serious crimes."
+
+"Less advanced culture?" Forrester said. "You mean us?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "You see, all the members of
+my culture are attuned to the power nodes of one neural machine or
+another, but this power is not meant to be misused. We have been
+searching for this group for a long time now."
+
+"And you first got wind of them on Earth about three thousand years
+ago?"
+
+"A little more than that, actually," Bor Mellistos said, "if you don't
+mind the correction."
+
+"Not at all," Forrester said, looking at the fangs of the Detective
+Inspector.
+
+"We were alerted after the radiations had been coming in for some time.
+The search for this group wasn't nearly as urgent then."
+
+"And that's why they had to go into hiding?" Diana asked.
+
+"Correct, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "The only one we managed to catch
+was the woman calling herself Aphrodite, or Venus." He looked at the
+substitute Venus. "That's the one you replaced, miss."
+
+"How did you catch her?" Forrester pursued.
+
+"Well," Bor Mellistos said, turning a faint shade of orange with
+embarrassment, "she was--ah--engaged in a secret liaison with a mortal
+at the time. Knowing that two of the other gentlemen would be furious
+with her if they discovered this fact--"
+
+"Mars and Vulcan," Forrester supplied.
+
+"Quite correct, sir," Bor Mellistos said. "Knowing, as I say, that they
+would be furious, she had taken special pains to hide herself. When the
+alarm reached the others that we were coming, they could not warn her.
+As a result, when she returned to Mount Olympus, we were waiting for
+her."
+
+"Serves her right!" Zeus said with indignation.
+
+Bor Mellistos said: "Quite," very politely.
+
+"And then," Forrester said, "you patrolled this place for a while."
+
+Bor Mellistos nodded. "We left about three hundred years ago, finally
+deciding that they had gone elsewhere. By the way, do you know where
+they were hiding all this time?"
+
+"My guess," Diana said, "is that they were here on Earth, of course."
+
+"Naturally, miss," Bor Mellistos said. "But where?"
+
+Zeus shrugged. "All sorts of places. I ran a tailor shop myself,
+pressing and cleaning. I understand that Poseidon and Pluto entered
+freak shows--they were fine attractions, too. Pan lived mostly in the
+forests, doing well enough for himself running wild. Diana and Athena
+ran a small hairdressing studio in Queens. And Venus--"
+
+"Please," Venus interrupted.
+
+"Perfectly honorable profession," Zeus objected. "One of the oldest.
+Perhaps the very oldest. And I don't see why--"
+
+"Please!" Venus insisted.
+
+Zeus shut up with a little sigh.
+
+"At any rate," Bor Mellistos said, "that's the story up to date. And now
+there's only the question of the Overseer positions. Would you like to
+fill them?"
+
+"Who?" Venus asked. "_Us?_"
+
+"Well," Bor Mellistos said, "you have the experience. And we do need
+someone to take over. You see, three thousand years ago your technical
+attainments were not large. There was little need for an Overseer. Now,
+however, you are nearly at the stage where you will be invited to join
+the Galactic Federation. And we must make sure you do not do any
+irreparable harm to yourselves during the next few years."
+
+"Well," Forrester said, "how could we--"
+
+"If you'll permit me, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "I can explain. You
+would work much as the so-called Gods did--but with no publicity, and a
+greater sense of responsibility, if you understand me. Earth would never
+know you were there."
+
+"I'd have to--stay away from mortals?" Forrester asked.
+
+"Exactly," Bor Mellistos said.
+
+Well, Forrester thought, it had its compensations. In the three days
+that the Detective Inspector had been on Earth, Forrester had had time
+to think and to find out some things. Gerda, for instance, was getting
+married to Alvin Sherdlap. Forrester wondered what kind of love would
+let a woman choose a name like Gerda Sherdlap, and decided it was better
+not to think about it.
+
+What did he have to go back to? History classes? Students? Even students
+like Maya Wilson?
+
+Well, he was sure he could do better than that. He looked at Diana and
+became even surer.
+
+"The remaining eleven Overseers," Bor Mellistos was saying, "will be
+along shortly. You will then be able to draw fully on the machine. You
+need merely follow world events and make sure that any--ah--regrettably
+_final_ decisions are not made. Your actions will, of course, be very
+much undercover."
+
+Forrester nodded. "This mass arrest of the Gods is going to cause an
+upheaval all by itself."
+
+"Quite true, sir. But that will be worked out. I'm afraid I don't really
+know the details, but doubtless the other eleven who are coming will
+inform you more thoroughly on that score."
+
+Forrester sighed. "About the Gods--what kind of punishment will they
+receive?"
+
+"Well, sir," Bor Mellistos said, "it varies. Vulcan, for instance--the
+person who called himself Vulcan, or Hephaestus--will probably get off
+with a lighter sentence than the others. He was a mechanic, brought
+along under some duress to service the machine. But the sentences will
+be severe, you may be sure. Very severe."
+
+Forrester didn't feel like asking any more questions about that. There
+was a pause. He looked at Diana again, and she looked back at him.
+
+"Do you accept?" Bor Mellistos said.
+
+Forrester and the others nodded.
+
+Bor Mellistos said: "Very well. In that case, I will inform the other
+eleven Overseers already picked that they will be met by you here, on
+Mount Olympus, and that--"
+
+But Forrester wasn't listening.
+
+He had begun whistling, very softly.
+
+The song he was whistling was Tenting Tonight.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Passions, by
+Gordon Randall Garrett and Laurence Mark Janifer
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