‘I was right,’ said Peleus in a tender voice. ‘It was ordained. You are not defeated. You are not in my hands, you are in the hands of MOROS.fn22 We both are.’
There, on the wet sand, he laid her down and as lovingly as he knew, he made her his.
There was relief on Olympus. The dangerous prophecy of Prometheus could now apply only to Peleus who – fine fellow as he was, noble warrior, excellent prince and all that – could hardly be counted in the first rank of mortal heroes, to be mentioned in the same breath as Theseus, Jason, Perseus or Heracles. He was welcome to father a child who might prove to be greater than himself. Besides, he was likeable, as was Thetis.
When the couple tentatively put out word that they were to be married by Chiron in his cave on Mount Pelion, every one of the Olympians – indeed all the gods, demigods and minor deities – paid them the inestimable compliment of accepting their invitation to attend the last great gathering of the immortals that the world would know.
All the gods, demigods and minor deities?
All but one …
There was seating room in Chiron’s cave only for the centaur himself, the twelve Olympian gods and the happy couple themselves. Perhaps ‘happy’ is too strong a word, but by this time Thetis had accepted her fate. She was well aware of Prometheus’s prophecy, but a maternal flame she had never suspected to harbour had flickered into life within her, glowed brighter and was now blazing with a fierce heat. She felt exultant at the prospect of bearing in her immortal womb a child destined for greatness.
The divine guests of honour took their seats in two semicircular rows at the back of the cave, Zeus enthroned in the centre, flanked on the one side by his wife Hera, Queen of Heaven and goddess of matrimony, and on the other by his favourite daughter Athena. The other Olympians jostled for position around and behind like spoiled children. DEMETER, goddess of fertility, less vain, sat quietly in the back row beside her daughter Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, who was there to represent HADES, who never ventured into the upper world. The twins Apollo and Artemis beat Poseidon and Ares to places in the front, and Aphrodite slipped determinedly next to Hera, who bowed her head stiffly at Hermes who had entered laughing with DIONYSUS and the limping Hephaestus. When the Olympians had at last disposed themselves with what dignity they could muster, senior demigods and Titans were ushered by Chiron into standing positions around the rest of the cave, leaving a kind of central aisle down which the bride and groom might process. Outside, nymphs of the seas, mountains, forests, meadows, rivers and trees sat on the grass at the mouth of the cave and whispered to each other, almost beside themselves with excitement. So complete a gathering of the immortals in one place had not taken place since the ceremony of the installation of the Twelve on Mount Olympus.fn23 They were all here.
All but one …
The goat-footed god PAN skipped around his band of satyrs, fauns, dryads and hamadryads, piping a tune so raucous to the gods’ ears that Hermes was sent out from the cave to command his wild son, in Zeus’s name, to stop.
‘That’s better,’ said Hermes ruffling the coarse fur that curled between the horns on Pan’s head. ‘Now we can all enjoy the privilege of hearing Apollo fumble with my lyre.’fn24
The Oceanids and Nereids were closest to the cave’s mouth. One of their own was being wed to a mortal hero, which was nothing – many sea nymphs had married Titans and even gods – but never had such an alliance been honoured by the presence of all the deities.
All but one …
The gods had bestowed glorious presents upon the couple. Of especial note were a pair of magnificent horses, Balius and Xanthus, the gift of the sea god Poseidon.fn25 Balius, the dapple grey, and Xanthus, his bay twin, were grazing outside the cave when the sound of a sudden clanging made them start up and whinny in alarm.
HESTIA, goddess of the hearth and home, was sounding the gong to announce the start of the ceremony. A hush descended. The gods settled themselves; those in the front row who had turned round to speak to those behind now faced forward and adopted expressions of solemn intent. Hera smoothed her gown. Zeus sat more erectly, his head and chin raised so that his beard pointed towards the cave’s entrance. As if following, all within the cave turned their heads in the same direction.
The nymphs held their breath. The whole world held its breath. How glorious were the gods, how majestic, how powerful, how perfect.
Arm in arm Thetis and Peleus walked slowly in. The bridal couple, as bridal couples always do, outshone every guest – even the very gods of Olympus – for this, their brief starring moment.
Prometheus, at the back of the cave, was hardly able to watch. His prophetic mind could not foresee in detail what the future held, but he felt sure that this gathering would be the last of its kind. The very grandeur and glory of the ceremony could only betoken some kind of collapse. The moment when flowers and fruits are at their fullest and ripest is the moment that precedes their fall, their decay, their rot, their death. Prometheus felt the coming of a storm. He could not say how or why, but he knew that this wedding feast was somehow a part of it and that the child of Peleus and Thetis, would be a part of it too. The coming storm smelled metallic, as the air always does before thunder. It smelled of copper and tin. Mortal blood smelled of copper and tin too. Copper and tin. Bronze. The metal of war. In his head Prometheus heard the sound of bronze clashing on bronze and saw blood raining down over all. Yet outside the cave the sky was blue and every face except his own was bright with joy.
All but the twelve Olympians now rose to their feet as Peleus and Thetis came through the mouth of the cave, the one smiling proudly, the other with head cast sweetly down.
I think too much, Prometheus told himself. It’s no more than a headache. Look how happy they all are, all the immortals.
All?
Prometheus could not rid his mind of the idea that there was one missing …
Hestia anointed the bridal couple with oils while Apollo’s son Hymenaios sang in praise of the gods and the bliss of matrimony. No sooner had Hera sat down after blessing the union than a commotion was heard at the mouth of the cave. The crowd of nymphs and dryads outside tumbled apart in a flurry of confusion as the one deity who had not been invited strode through. The form was silhouetted in the entrance but Prometheus recognized her at once – ERIS, goddess of strife, feuding, discord and disarray. He understood that to have invited her to a wedding feast would have been to court upset. But not to have invited her, surely that was to court disaster too?
The congregation parted as Eris stalked down to face the semicircle of enthroned Olympians. She put a hand inside her cloak. Something round and bright rolled along the ground and stopped at the feet of Zeus. She turned and left the way she had come, through the crowd of frozen and dumbfounded guests. She had not uttered a word. So swift and sudden were Eris’s entrance and exit that some in the cave wondered if they might have imagined it. But the object at Zeus’s feet was real enough. What could it be?
Zeus leaned down to pick it up. It was an apple. A golden apple.fn26
Zeus turned it over carefully in his hands.
Hera looked over his shoulder. ‘There is writing on it,’ she said sharply. ‘What does it say?’
Zeus frowned and peered closely at the golden surface of the apple. ‘It says, “To the Fairest.”’fn27