Under the tree, Hermes dug in his pouch for the refreshments, dropping apples and figs, dried meats and cheeses on a rough blanket, that was weighted at each corner with a flask. Too intent, he did not notice the weather change, becoming darker and heavier. A sudden cold mist that enveloped him brought him to attention quickly. Zues chuckled deeply, as Hermes grabbed a cloak.

The dark cloud was small, covering only the two of them. Beyond it, the sky shone brightly Hermes could see, as he ducked under the cloud’s edge, looking up. “This is awesome!” He exclaimed of the Cloud.  “Where did you get it? …And when can I borrow it?”

Zeus regaled Hermes with the story. He had appeared before his wife in full, blazing splendor demanding She have the Royal Weavers make him a cloud. He needed a platform for launching his thunderbolts. Zeus explained a proper god does not throw thunderbolts from the ground, regardless how big he can grow. Hera obliged. 

Naturally, the most luxurious wool from Apollo’s herds was used and dyed perfectly to reflect the storm within. “She even had them make a box to keep it in!” aa He displayed the ornate container, in his outstretched palm. 

Hermes shook his head at the obvious, and asked Zeus, “You know she knows, right?” 

Zeus waved the question away. “That harpy wouldn’t know if I did it right in front of her.”

Hera watched from the nearly invisible window shadowed under the overhang of the highest peak in the temple. To herself, “What a fool He is. He would be lost without me.”

Listening in on Zeus’ story, the goddess remembered the afternoon well. Zeus’ arrival had been ceremoniously pompous. Calling out to her, “Woman! Wife! I command your presence!” Of course, she kept him waiting. 

In a secret chamber, Hera watched Arachne intently. “Take your fill, Spider. The task before you is difficult,” the Queen reminded the weaver, confident in the trust She gave the girl. “You will go to Agros. There, you will retrieve an item I left with a minor nymph in a small grove. Her name is Clio.” Arachne grabbed another bug, and thought deeply. It was a dangerous journey. 

Hera’s voice interrupted those thoughts, “I’ve kept Him waiting long enough. Be back no later than morning,” Hera commanded, leaving the shadowy room. Filling a bag to sustain her, Arachne scurried out as well. 

Arachne had been summoned to Hera’s household shortly after her transformation. Hera demanded the best of everything, and Arachne was just that – the very best. Hera’s rivalry with Athena only fueled Arachne’s loyalty to her new mistress. Perhaps she would be rewarded for her service with the revenge Arachne so craved.

The next morning, Hera took Clio’s simple box from the spider. “Well done, Weaver. Come with me.” Hera set the simple box by her spindle, a magical gift from Hephaestus. Then, led Arachne to the weavers’ apartments. Restoring Arachne’s human form, Hera announced Her new Lady of Weaving to the room. Awed silence fell. Every lady there had heard of the spider’s skill. Hera cemented her acceptance of Arachne by saying, “You will have the honor of accompanying me to the presentation of the Cloud.”

Afterward, the two alone, the Great Goddess instructed, “You will weave This for me. It is a mist of Untruth. No one will help you. And should you speak of it, I will take your tongue.” 

“I understand, my Queen,“ Arachne could not have hoped for more. 

At the ceremony, Hera presented Zeus his new Cloud in an intricate, but smallish box. He graciously accepted, praised his wife, and declared this a feast day forevermore. In the fervor, unnoticed, Arachne left the festivities, and set about her task. The Mist for the Cloud of Lies was finished the next morning.