Pagan Passions Page 4

  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 wasfeeling a lot worse than he'd felt when he left the bar. Being perfectlyfrank with himself, he admitted that he felt terrible.

  The blow from the brass ashtray wasn't a sharp pain any longer. It haddeveloped into a nice, dependable ache that had spread all over the sideof his head. And his right eye was beginning to swell, probably from thesame cause. He'd skinned the knuckles of his right hand, too, probablyon 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'dfaced. But that wasn't the point.

  You just didn't go up to the Tower of Zeus looking like a back-streetbrawler.

  However, there was no help for it. He straightened his jacket and wentin through the Fifth Avenue entrance of the Tower, heading for the firstbank of elevators.

  Zeus All-Father would know everything about his fight, and would knowthat it hadn't been his fault. (Hadn't it, though? Forrester askedhimself. He remembered the joy he'd felt at the prospect of battle. Howfar 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 mercifulmood.

  He reached the bank of elevators, and the burly Myrmidon who stoodthere, wearing the lightning-bolt shoulder patch of the All-Father.Ahead of him was a chattering crowd of five: mother, father, twodaughters and a small son, all obviously out-of-towners. The Tower ofZeus was always a big tourist attraction. The Myrmidon directed them tothe stairway that led to the second-floor Arcade, the main attractionfor most visitors to the Tower. The Temple of Sacrifice was located upthere, while the ground floor was filled with glass-fronted offices ofthe secretaries of various dignitaries.

  Chattering gaily, and looking around them in a kind of happy awe, thefamily group moved off and Forrester stepped up to the Myrmidon, whosaid: "Stairway's right over there to your--"

  "No," Forrester said. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling hismuscles ache as he did so. He drew out his wallet and managed to extractthe simple card he'd been given in the Temple of Pallas Athena, the cardwhich carried nothing but a lightning bolt.

  He handed it to the Myrmidon, who looked down at it, frowned, and thenlooked up.

  "What's this for?" he said.

  "Well--" Forrester began, and then caught himself. He'd been told not toexplain about the card to any mortal. And the Myrmidon was certainlyjust as mortal as Forrester himself, or any other hireling of the Gods.True, there was always the consideration that he might be ZeusAll-Father himself, in disguise.

  But that was a consideration that bore no weight at present. Even if theMyrmidon turned out to be a God in disguise, Forrester wouldn't beexcused if he said anything about the card. You had to go byappearances; that was the principle on which everything rested, and avery good principle too.

  Not that there weren't a few unprincipled young men around who pretendedto be Gods in disguise in order to seduce various local and ingenuousmaidens. 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 toknow," and waited.

  The Myrmidon studied him for what seemed about three days. At last henodded, looked down at the card intently, raised his head and noddedagain. "Okay," he said. "Take Car One."

  Forrester moved off. Car One was not the first elevator car. As a matterof 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 steppedtoward 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 theelevator car. Forrester hissed in his breath with impatience--none ofwhich showed on his face--and then caught himself. Certainly ZeusAll-Father knew what he was doing, and if Zeus had thrown these delaysin his path, it was not for him to complain.

  The thought was soothing. Nevertheless, Forrester showed his card to theMyrmidon with an abrupt action very like impatience. This Myrmidonmerely glanced at it in a bored fashion and pushed a button on the wallbehind him. The elevator doors opened, Forrester stepped inside, and thedoors closed.

  Forrester was alone in a small bronzed cubicle which began at once torise rapidly. Just how rapidly, he was unable to tell. There were noindicators at all on the elevator, and the opaque doors made itimpossible to see floors flit by. But his ears rang with the speed, andwhen the car finally stopped, it did so with a slight jerk that threwForrester, stiff and worried, off balance. He almost fell out of the caras the door opened, and clutched at something for support.

  The something was the arm of a Myrmidon. Forrester gaped and lookedaround. He was in a plain hallway of polished marble. There was no wayto tell how many stories above the street he was.

  The Myrmidon seemed a more friendly sort than his compatriotsdownstairs, and wore in addition to the usual lightning-bolt patch thetwo silver ants of a Captain on the shoulders of his uniform. He nearlysmiled at Forrester--but not quite.

  "You're William Forrester?" he said.

  Forrester nodded. He produced the ID card and handed it with the specialcard 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'reexpected," he said at last in a flat voice. "Come with me."

  He started down the hallway. Forrester followed him around a corner toan ornate bronzed door, covered with bas-reliefs depicting the actionsof the Gods among themselves, and among men. The Myrmidon seemedunimpressed by the magnificence of the thing; he pushed it open andbowed low to, as far as Forrester could see, nobody in particular.

  Taking no chances, Forrester copied his bow. He was still bent when theMyrmidon announced: "Forrester is here, Your Concupiscence," in areverent tone of voice, and backed off a step, narrowly missingForrester 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 purplevelvet, draping a large window that looked out on ...

  Forrester gulped. It was impossible to be this high. New York was spreadout below like a toy city.

  He jerked his eyes away from the window and back to the rest of theroom. It was furnished mainly with couches: big couches, little couches,puffy ones, spare ones, in felt, velvet, fur, and every other materialForrester could think of. The rooms were flocked in a pale pink, and onthe floor was a deep-purple rug of a richer pile than Forrester had everseen.

  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 wasstacked. Beside her, little Maya Wilson would have looked about eightyears old. Her hair was as red as the inside of a blast furnace, and hadabout the same effect on Forrester's pulse rate. Her face was a slightlyrounded 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 ofVenus/Aphrodite, the veritable Primate of Venus for New York herself, ina voice that managed to be all at once regal, pleasant and seductive.

  Forrester, already in, could think of nothing to say. The gaze of HerConcupiscence fell on the half-open door. "You may retire, Captain," shesaid to the waiting Myrmidon. "And allow no one to enter here until Igive notice."

  "Very well, Your Concupiscence," the Myrmidon said.

  The door shut.

  Forrester snappe
d erect from his bow, and then realized that he could donothing but stand there until he had more information. What was theHigh Priestess of Aphrodite doing in the Tower of Zeus All-Fatheranyway? And--always supposing she had the right to be there, as ofcourse 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 theTower. Then there had been (the sigh changed in character) Maya Wilson.And then (the sigh changed again, into a faint echo of a groan) thefight 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 asitting position and patted the couch. "Sit over here," she said. "Nextto me." Then she changed her mind. "No," she added. "First just walkover 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 whatwas going on, and why?

  After he had turned completely around and stood facing her again, theHigh 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 areflective tone, and nodded her head again. "Yes, you'll do."

  Forrester couldn't restrain his questions any longer. "_Do?_" he burstout. "I mean," he continued, more quietly, "what will I do for, YourConcupiscence?"

  "Oh, for whatever honor it is that our beloved Goddess has in mind foryou," the High Priestess said offhandedly. "I can certainly see that youwill do. A little pudgy around the middle, but that's a trifle andhardly matters. The important things are there. You're obviously strongand quick."

  At that point Forrester caught up with the first sentence of herexplanation. "The--the Goddess?" he said faintly.

  "Certainly," the High Priestess said. "Else why would I give youaudience? 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," shesaid. "However, the important thing is that our beloved Aphrodite hasselected you, William Forrester, for some high honor."

  Forrester caught her word for the Goddess, and remembered, thanking hislucky stars he hadn't had a chance to slip, that here in the Tower itwas protocol to refer to the Gods and Goddesses by their Greek namesalone.

  "I don't suppose," he said tentatively, "that you have any idea justwhat this--high honor is?"

  "You, William Forrester," the High Priestess began, in some rage, "dareto question--" Her tone changed. "Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn't becomeangry 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 hecould feel his stomach sinking to ground level, "how do you know it's anhonor?" The thought that had crossed his mind was almost too horrible toretain, but he had to say it. "Perhaps," he went on, "I've offended theGods in some unusual way--some way very offensive to them."

  "Perhaps you have."

  "And perhaps," Forrester said, "they've decided on some exquisite methodof punishing me. Something like the punishment they gave Tantalus whenhe--"

  "I know the ways of the Gods quite well, thank you," the High Priestesssaid 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 topunish you, they would simply have sent out a squad of Myrmidons to pickyou up, and that would have been the end of it."

  "Perhaps not," Forrester said, in a voice that didn't sound at all likehis own to him. It sounded much too unconcerned. "Perhaps I haveoffended only the Goddess herself." The idea sounded more plausible themore he thought about it. "Certainly the All-Father would back up hisfavorite Daughter in punishing a mortal."

  "Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And still the Myrmidonswould have--"

  "Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional arguments andquarrels between the Gods."

  "I am," the High Priestess said, not without irony. "And it does notappear seemly that an ordinary mortal should mention--"

  "I teach History," Forrester said. "I know of such quarrels. Especiallybetween Athena and Aphrodite."

  "And?"

  "It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may be that Aphroditewished to keep my arrest secret."

  "I doubt it," the High Priestess said.

  Forrester wished he could believe her. But his own theory lookeduncomfortably plausible. "It certainly looks as if I'm right."

  "Well--" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly, the frecklesthat went with her red hair standing out clearly on her face and givingher the disturbing appearance of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old,however, Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the HighPriestess.

  Then she regained her color and laughed, all in an instant. "For aminute," she said in a light tone, "you almost convinced me of yourforebodings. But there's nothing in them. There couldn't be."

  Forrester opened his mouth, and _Why not?_ was on his lips. But he nevergot a chance to say the words. The High Priestess blinked and peeredmore closely at his face, and before he had a chance to speak she askedhim: "What happened to you?"

  "A small accident," Forrester said quickly. It was a lie, but he thoughta pardonable one. The truth was just too complicated to spin out; he hadno 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, andentitled to defend myself."

  "I'm sure," the High Priestess said. "Yet I have a question for you. Whowon?"

  "Won? I did. Naturally."

  It sounded boastful, he reflected, but it wasn't. He had won, and it hadbeen natural to him to do so. His build and strength, as well as hisspeed, had made any other outcome unlikely.

  And the High Priestess didn't seem to take offense. She said only: "Ithought so. Just a moment." Then she walked over to a telephone. It wasa simple act but Forrester watched it fervently. First she stood up, andthen she took a step, and then another step ... and her whole bodymoved. And moved.

  It was marvelous. He watched her bend down to pick up the phone withoutany clear idea of the meaning of the motions. The motions themselveswere enough. Every curve and jiggle and bounce was engraved forever onhis mind.

  The High Priestess dialed a number, waited and said: "Aphrodite'scompliments to Hermes the Healer."

  An indistinguishable voice answered her from the receiver.

  "Aphrodite thanks you," the High Priestess said, "and asks if Hermesmight 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 wehave 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." Shehung up.

  She came back to the couch, Forrester's eyes following her every inch ofthe way. She sat down, looked up and said: "What's the matter? Do I boreyou?"

  "_Bore_ me?" Forrester all but cried.

  "It's just--well, nothing, I suppose," the High Priestess said. "Yourexpression."

  "Training," Forrester explained. "An acolyte does well not to expresshis 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 aHealer. 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 ordereda sacrifice in her favor. A sacrifice from you. And Aphrodite does notaccept--much less _order_--a sacrifice from those standing in herdisfavor."

  "You're--"

  "I'm sure," the High Priestess said.

  "Oh," Forrester said. "Good." The world was not quite as black as itcould have been. And still, it was not exactly shining white. Asacrifice? 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 therite 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 tellthe Captain of Myrmidons to let him in."

  "My goodness!" the High Priestess said. "So I did! It slipped my mindentirely." She touched Forrester's cheek affectionately. "Of course, Iimagine it's only natural to be a bit forgetful when--" She got up andwent to the door.

  The Captain and a small, fat priest in a golden-edged tunic were tangledconfusedly outside. The High Priestess looked away from them in disdainand said regally: "You may permit the Healer to enter, Captain." Thetangle came untied and the little priest scooted in. To him, as the doorclosed again, the High Priestess whispered: "Sorry. I didn't expect youquite so soon."

  "No more did I!" The priest waved his caduceus furiously, so that itseemed as if the twin snakes twined round it were moving, the two wingsabove 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 wouldsupply 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 firsttime, and his tone changed. "Oh," he said. "Good evening, YourConcupiscence."

  "Good evening," the High Priestess said in an indulgent tone.

  "Well, well, well," the priest said. "What seems to be the trouble? Mygoodness. It must be important, sure enough--certainly important." Hislittle round red eager face seemed to shine as he went on. "Hermeshimself transported me here just as soon as you called!"

  "Really?"

  "Oh, my, yes," the priest said. "Just as soon as ever. Yes. Hm. And youcan believe me when I tell you--believe me, Your Concupiscence--take myword when I tell you--"

  "Yes?"

  "Hermes," the priest said. "Hermes doesn't often take such aninterest--I may say such a _personal_ interest--in a mortal, I'll tellyou. 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'sthe patient? The mortal?"

  "He's over here," the High Priestess said, motioning to Forrestersitting awestruck on the couch. Priests of Hermes were common enoughsights--but a priest like this was something new and strange in hisexperience.

  "Ah," the priest said, twinkling at him. "So there you are, eh? Overthere? 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 notto ask his name, or mention anything about this visit toanyone--understand?"

  The priest blinked. "Oh, certainly. Absolutely. Without doubt. I'vealready been told that, you might say. Already. Certainly. Wouldn'tthink of such a thing." He moved over and stood near Forrester, peeringdown 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 looklike, eh? Beaten, I'll bet. You look a strong type."

  Forrester relaxed. It was the only thing to do while the priest babbledon, touching his wounds gently as he did so with various parts of hiscaduceus. The pain vanished with a touch of the left wingtip, and thelacerations healed instantly as they were caressed with first one andthen another of the various coils of the snakes.

  But Forrester now was free to worry. Arrest was out of the question. Asthe High Priestess had said, on the evidence it was clear that Aphroditeintended to honor him in some way. And there was nothing at all, hethought, wrong with an honor from the Goddess of Love.

  But another sacrifice? After the sacrifice to Aphrodite he'd madeearlier, and the fight he'd gotten into, he just didn't quite feel up toit. It wouldn't do to refuse, but ...

  "Well," the priest said, stepping back. "Well, well. You ought to be allright now, young fellow--right as rain."

  Forrester said: "Thanks."

  "Might feel a little soreness--tenderness, you might say--for a day orso. Only a day or so, tenderness," the priest said. "After that, rightas rain. Right as you'll ever be. _All_ right, as a matter of fact: allright."

  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, withoutmeaning harm, if you would ask a blessing for me--Aphrodite's blessing?Easy for you. Of course, it would be nice curing--curing, as theysay--stupidity, plain dumbness, as they call such things--curingstupidity 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 theGods and no one else. Yes. Hm. And not often. They don't do anythinglike that in the--ah--regular course of things. As a matter of fact, youmight say, I've never heard of--never heard of such a case. Never. Notone. Yet ..." He opened the door, spat: "Myrmidons!" and disappearedinto 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. Sheput 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 overagain. Forrester responded to the eagerness of the woman as he'd neverdreamed he could respond; all his tiredness dropped away as if it hadnever been, and he was a new man. He touched her bare flesh and felt theheat of her through his fingers and hands; with his arms around hernakedness he rolled, locked to her, feeling the friction of skin againstskin and the magnificence of her.

  The sacrifice went on ... and on ... and on into endless time andendless space. Forrester thrust and gasped at the woman and her headwent back, her mouth pulled open as she shivered and responded tohim....

  Forever....

  Until finally they lay, panting, in the magnificent room. Forrester rosefirst, vaguely surprised at himself. He found a towel in a closet at thefar 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 theroom at him. "There is no need for such familiarity, Forrester," shesaid. "Not from a lay acolyte."

  Forrester tossed the towel onto a couch. "My apologies, YourConcupiscence. I'm a little--light-headed. But what happens next?"

 
; The High Priestess reached into the diaphanous pile of her clothing andcame up with a small diamond-encrusted watch she wore, usually, on herwrist. "Our timing was almost perfect," she said. "It is nowtwenty-hundred hours. The Goddess expects you at twenty-oh-one exactly."

  A hurried half-minute passed. Then, fully dressed, Forrester went withthe High Priestess to a golden door half-hidden in the hangings at theside of the room. She made a series of mystical signs: the circle, theserpent and others Forrester couldn't quite follow.

  She opened the door, genuflecting as she did so, and Forrester droppedto one knee behind her, looking at the doorway.

  It was filled with a pale blue haze that looked like the clear summersky on a hot day. Except that it wasn't sky, but a curtain that waveredand shimmered before his eyes. Beyond it, he could see nothing.

  The High Priestess rose from her genuflection and Forrester followedsuit. There was a sole second of silence.

  Then the High Priestess said: "You are to step through the Veil ofHeaven, 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 walkthrough as if nothing at all were there."

  Forrester filled his lungs as though he were going to take a very highdive. He thought: _Here goes nothing_. That was all; there wasn't timefor anything else.

  He stepped into the blue haze, and had a sudden sensation of falling.