The goddess reclines, gazing into the ivy-framed mirror taking up the entire wall. Soon, the others will join her to prepare for the wedding. 
Tonight a minor river god will marry a minor forest goddess. Such marriages occur all the time with no thought from Olympus. But, this wedding will be made special because Romula, one of the Twins, would attend. Daydream, the groom,  is the 7th son of the River of Forgetfulness Lethe. Lethe herself brings the life-giving waters every morning to nourish the Vines in the Twin’s Grove. The bride is Hope, daughter of Aurora and Cephalus. Romula was named Godmother to the child in honor of the Preservation of Aurora, many years ago when Romula defended her friend. She lays back, contemplating what to wear.

 

Romula assesses the form She has worn since that night. Her body is strong. Small at the waist with muscular curves defining her hips and arms. Satisfied, she turns to inspect the face. Her lips are full and bow-shaped. They say on the day Cupid was born his lips were thin and gray – then She kissed him. That story brings a twinkle to Her emerald eyes that are crowned by long, cascading hair the color of ebony. She glares at the streaks – bleached white by the Sun god’s lecherous touch. Tomorrow, She decides She will take a different form. Tonight, Her look will show the story that frames this celebration.

As her mind begins to wander, Her gaze fixes on the mirror. She remembers the events of that night with vivid clarity.  The Goddesses had gathered to celebrate Aurora’s Bride’s Day – a last play date with her fellow maidens and friends. A mist forms in the mirror.

Languidly, it rolls – taking the shape of abundant summer foliage. A scene forms – focused on a small, babbling stream, just as it was that afternoon long ago. Romula can still see the nymph flitting through the treetops, ecstatic the goddesses had chosen her woods in Argos for Aurora’s bridal preparations.

Somewhere between asleep and awake, the trees in the memory open to reveal a path through the foliage. With Her mind wandering, Dream easily leads Her through the events of that night – unfolding with each step. Near the stream she can see the goddesses washing the dye from Aurora’s veil. The stones stained dark red.

A little further on, she sees herself after the hunt. Artemis’ tiger form embraces her dark blonde gazelle body – both stained with blood as they collapse, laughing, with game-ending wounds. She happily remembers that afternoon. 

 

Suddenly, a chilling scream pierces the peace. Memory spurs Her panic. She flies down the path knowing what comes next – her heart racing with fear. The goddess comes upon the scene.

It takes only a second to analyze the situation. Across the clearing, Hermes’ enormous form has overpowered the helpless girl-bride. He prepares to take his pleasure of her. Several yards to the right Apollo stands ogling, waiting. He is startled by her sudden appearance. Off guard, he hesitates, as the goddess decides. In a single bound, she leaps at Hermes. Too late, the Sun god reacts. Grabbing, he only grazes her hair, leaving the white streaks, as her body transforms, mid-leap into a powerful black panther. 

 

The mist breaks and the Goddess wakes to the cacophony down the hall – the others have arrived. Opening her eyes, she sees in the mirror the image she will wear this evening – her look will show her victory over Hermes and Apollo. Anxious for the preparations, she turns to greet her guests.

Aphrodite’s laugh is unmistakable. Her name may mean the foam from the sea, but her giggle is the steps leading into it. The Goddess of Beauty and Love leads the procession from her swan carriage that is always big enough – no matter how many are in the party. Zeus was so overjoyed one of the Twins was finally leaving the Grove, He personally instructed Hera to have the royal weavers make a gift for the goddess. Aphrodite brought it tonight. 

Romula can hear Her in the hall. “Where is She?” then more laughter. Now, shrewly, “Minstrels! Where are my minstrels? I want to dance the instant I see her! Where is She?” Finally, Aphrodite bursts into the room, a throng of gods and mortals throwing open the doors. Some frantically drop flowers for the goddesses to walk on. Others play music for them. Chaos and laughter – that’s Aphrodite.

 

The scene quiets as the Goddess looks around, maybe a little overwhelmed. She had not realized the impact her attendance tonight would have. Zeus always overreacts. Maybe it has been too long since She left Her grove. Remus is there – She doesn’t feel complete without her brother. The Vines are there, too. She has an obligation to the Vines. Ambrosia, nectar, juice – call it what you will, the Gods need the Fruit from the Vines of Enlightenment. Without it, what would they be? But, has it really been that long?

She watches as the room fills. Behind Aphrodite come the Muses, the Graces, Artemis and Hebe – Hercules finally let her leave Mt. Olympus. Others fill the room. There are twenty goddesses in all and almost as many human spirits. The humans are destined for Heaven but offer their labor in penance to speed the process. They have set up tables laden with food and wine. The smells of spicy sausages and sweet chocolate mix with the incense of myrrh an attendant has just lit. The goddesses greet one another. With such a party just for the preparations, what will the wedding be like? Thoughtfully, She reaches for a handful  of cheese. 

 

Aphrodite, distracted by all the arrangements, suddenly sees Her. She dances over to greet the Twin. A quick embrace, then kisses to either cheek – always the same with Her. “I have something for you!” Now, in the shrill voice again, “Giftbearer!” A human spirit hurries up with an ornately wrapped box. “It’s from Zeus.” Laughing, They both know whatever it is, it will be useless.

The goddess tears the gift open to reveal a heavy mantle of the softest angora she has ever seen. It is stunning – the most beautiful Tyrian purple. Smiling, They eye each other. Hope has chosen a summer wedding. They both know the mantle will sit in the swan car all night. Thanks, Zeus.

They laugh as an attendant approaches Romula and whispers that she is needed in an antechamber. The goddess excuses herself and follows the attendant out. Several minutes later, She and Clotho dance into the group unnoticed. 

Everywhere Goddesses are preparing for the night’s festivities. Here some splash in a bathing pool. There spirits dry other goddesses.  Sweet music fills the room as Harpsichord strums Apollo’s lyre – tribute from the defeated. Memory keeps time on a tambourine. Minstrels sing the praises of this goddess; then that one. The preparations last all afternoon.

Finally, the time has come to leave. As everyone boards the swan car, Romula takes one last look around. The Vines have been tended. Her Twin sits in idle conversation with Hermes – disgraced and uninvited. Everywhere, attendants labor. The Hounds, so wisely sent by Zeus, stand guard in the grove. Content her home is safe, the Goddess conjures the ivy mirror one last time. 

Her resplendent form stares back. Her jet-black hair is adorned with ivy and garlands of flowers. Her emerald eyes are rimmed in gold-flecked kohl. Her full mouth painted lush red. A simple tunic covers her dark body, clutched at the left shoulder with a pin that bears a bull’s face. The finest artists had woven the garment to reflect the story of the Preservation. The exquisitely made pin was a gift King Minos had left on her altar in the Crete many years ago. Satisfied, they board the swan car and a minor wind god carries the group away.

 

II

An enormous hall has been built along the banks of Daydream the groom’s river. Bridesmaids have festooned the area with garlands and tapestries. An altar has been built to Hymen the god of Marriage. One by one, guests file into the hall.

Then, silence, as the announcer declares that Romula has arrived. All turn to look. The silence gives way to hushed whispers, and finally open talk about the Brave Goddess and her daring defense of the honor of the bride’s mother. She pauses a moment to savor the scene. Yes, it has been too long. 

Recognizing everyone, she reaches the bottom of the stairs where the crowd rises to embrace Her. In the background, She hears the announcement that the Goddesses Aphrodite and Artemis have arrived. 

The bedecked hall is lined with tables of food. The center of the hall provides a dance floor. Everywhere – eating, drinking and merriment! The Goddess heads straight for the bride, then greets the bride’s mother and groom’s father. 

Everyone is beautiful. The ceremony is simple. The celebration lasts well into the night. When suddenly She is overcome with anxiety. Her Twin! Somehow, She knows He is in danger. Within seconds, the anxiety becomes panic. She races out of the hall – back to Her grove. 

 

III

Remy hit the ground, hard. They say the impact cracked foundations throughout Thessaly. Prone, she lay gasping. Her mind is filled with memories so recently made, but fading quickly.  Broken thoughts. Her brother, bitterly betrayed. Remy feels again the panic. Sees again the grove. The Hounds – motionless. Everywhere the din of battle, as living humans fought. Here! Her home!  Spirits – already dead – falling again. She knows not how such things can be. Yet, with her own eyes she saw. 

In disbelief, She stared, horrified. At last, she saw the man. Prometheus attacked her grove! He was stealing the Vines of Enlightenment. 

Atop the cloud that brought him, he turned to face Remy – his hair matted with blood and sweat. One hand held a sword that dripped red. The other clutched a Vine. She leapt, horrified, at the man – more than eager for the battle. Stretching her hand for the throat of her enemy, she landed on the cloud. But the mist dissipated beneath her weight. A Cloud of Lies had brought the man and she tumbled right through. Falling, she twisted to see the battle above her. The last sight Remy recalled was the triumph on Prometheus’ face as She fell.

 

Remy lifts her arm to cover her eyes, hoping to block the memories. A stabbing pain stops her. Something is wrong. Remy has felt pain before, but never like this. This pain hurts. And it persists. She moves her arm, there is pain. She doesn’t move her arm, there is pain. Slowly, Remy opens her eyes – to see only dim white light. 

Blind, in pain and confused, Remy sits up – to feel the cold steel blade of a knife against her throat, as a powerful male voice asks, “Are you injured?”

She only hesitates a moment, sizing up her options. “Yes. My arm is broken.”

“And, it seems you can’t see,” the voice adds, eyeing the brooch that holds her tunic – a bull’s head. He has seen that face before. “Come with me. I know where to find a healer.”.