3.37: The Judgment of Paris

Location: Larissa, Aeolia 

Time Remaining: 0

Odysseus and Adresteia had made their departure none too soon; Zeus and Hera had finally made their appearance, and Athena didn’t want her agents to directly cross paths with them – not yet. Zeus and Hera had taken over Peleus and Thetis’s throne room. Hephaestus had made them special thrones for the occasion, towering, intimidating things. The smaller, more humble seats of Aeolian power had been pushed to one side, Thetis within arms-reach of Zeus and her husband nearly seated next to the wall. It was a petty display of power, which Athena looked upon with nothing but contempt.

Pallas Athene, by Rembrandt, 1655

Athena - or more accurately, Morgania - had often wondered which of the ancient extracorporeal intelligences Zeus and Hera had taken in when they opened Pandora's Box. She hadn't known that storing them in the box would damage them, but the consequences of their containment were undeniable. Like the successors of Mbomxolodur, none of the legacy bearers save Athena could recall any coherent memories of their predecessors. The legacies seemed to still retain knowledge, skills, and some flashes of insight, but their identities had decayed, corrupted.

It seemed that they had all come to embody some expression of power and control. Or, perhaps, that was simply the bent of Kronos's children. For Zeus, it was interpersonal power that he craved – destroying enemies and dominating allies. For Hera, it was power through manipulation of others, be it manipulating their choices or manipulating their genes. Poseidon embodied the power of persistence and endurance, wearing down opposition through stubbornness and tenacity. Demeter expressed the power of need, hunger and thirst, and the leverage those provide. Hades embraced the power of mortality, and all the things people do to hold it at bay. And Aphrodite’s domain was – of course – the power of lust.

Morgania believed that it was time for the old powers to fade into the primal ethos. The powers of wisdom, knowledge, compassion, creativity, and courage, could shape a better society than any the world had seen before - but not until the petty despots were out of the way.

Athena’s endgame was still two decades away, but many of her pieces were already in place. Apollo knew what she was planning, and supported her wholly – her strongest ally by far. Artemis, one of the most volatile variables in her predictions, would now be more manageable, possibly even helpful. Athena had known that some sort of cathartic episode or psychological breakdown would be inevitable for the woman, and with that now out of the way, Athena no longer had to wonder if the goddess would do something borderline insane at a critical moment and completely demolish her carefully laid plans.

Thanks to Adresteia and Odysseus, Prometheus was convalescing with Morgania's previous host, Morgania, and Heracles was dead. Zeus didn't know it yet, but he'd lost a critical asset, and when Prometheus and Hekate were ready to be released from Tartarus, she would have gained two of her own. Athena was confident that Hephaestus, Ares, Demeter, and Poseidon would fall into their places after she cast her die. She was less certain of Hermes, Hestia, and Dionysus. Hermes would likely look out for himself, Hestia would want to be largely uninvolved – much like Hades and Persephone – and Dionysus would probably be too distracted by his hedonistic pursuits to notice the coming war, even after it arrived.

Adresteia, despite having served loyally for twenty years or so, was one of Athena’s biggest wildcards. Adresteia’s hatred of Zeus, Hera, and Aphrodite had long ago evolved beyond the raw emotions surrounding her abuse at Zeus’s hands. She’d taken to heart much of what Athena believed about their irresponsibility and unsuitability to lead the peoples of Greece. Adresteia's own legacy, Orcynyes the Nemesis, existed to violently punish hubris, and she now saw the king and queen of Olympus as the worst offenders of their times. Add to that the injustice visited upon Orcynyes previous host, Adresteia's mother, Nyx, and the result was a highly motivated but unpredictable weapon. When the time came, Athena wasn’t sure Adresteia – or Nemesis – would support her endgame.

Now Morgania/Athena felt anxious. It was an experience she had maybe once a decade. So many of her plans relied on the consequences of this moment that some apprehension was inevitable. Athena would have to play a part that didn’t come naturally to her, and she was far from the best liar in the family.

The happy chattering of people, mortal and immortal, slowly shifted towards the negative. Athena could hear bitter tongues spouting sarcasm and left-handed complements. An aura of social antipathy had descended on the party. Athena’s most valuable piece had arrived.

The doors of the throne room flew open, and a deep rumbling shook the building as a whirlwind blew in, knocking aside people and furnishings. The whirlwind spun in place in the center of the room for a moment, and then blew out in a burst of red-orange flames. People gasped in surprise and terror, and Hera stood from her throne to face the interloper. As the flames died, Eris became visible. She had been friends with Hera and Aphrodite at one time, but those years were long past, the disfiguring scars on her otherwise beautiful form a bitter reminder of their falling out.

Eris Goddess of  Chaos, Strife and Discord, 5-Ace Designs

Eris had been excluded from Peleus and Thetis’s guest list, and as Morgania had expected of the ever quarrelsome goddess, this had not set well with her. Despite Eris’s cantankerous nature, Morgania had found it easy to steer her – at least, after she arranged for Pandora to surreptitiously relinquish the Lauma legacy to the younger titaness. Lauma had made Eris more... sympathetic to Morgania's cause, just as she had Pandora, and untouched by the corruption of the box, Eris was more powerful than any of the Olympians would have imagined.

Morgania, as Athena, had come to Eris with a plan to bring strife to the party, offering to help her execute it in exchange for one thing, "Tyche’s coin" - the key Pandora had created to control her legendary box. Gleeful at the chaos Athena promised, and not grasping that the disorder itself was something Athena wanted, Eris had happily made the trade. Through cryptic instructions and half-truths, they’d each arranged for their agents to meet and hand off the key bargaining chips, neither Odysseus nor Thalassas knowing that Athena wanted Eris to have the apple. Eris had then applied Lauma's talents to ‘improving’ the already desirable bauble with a simple enchantment that would evoke more envy and desire.

Eris winked at Ares seductively as she walked past him, riling Aphrodite, before she spoke.

“I was told that this was to be the gathering of the century. All the most important people in Greece were supposed to be here, and yet… I received no invitation. Dionysus, honey, tell me it just got lost in the shuffle, hm?” Dionysus filled his wine cup, lifted it in salute, and walked out of the room. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted to be somewhere else.

“You received no such invitation because you were not invited,” Hera said, her voice edged with more hostility than even Eris’s magic could evoke.

“Not invited?” Eris feigned surprise, “I am Discord. I embody conflict, and all but define these mortals’ lives. The natural order is disorder, and these mortals are chaos made flesh. What reason could they possibly have to omit my name from any tribute to their gods and masters?”

Zeus finally spoke, “Because you’re a bitch, Eris. You’re uglier on the inside than the outside, and you’re so damned ugly on the outside, I want to drink a whole cellar of wine just so I can vomit enough to do you justice when I look at you.” Athena couldn’t have guessed the exact words Zeus would use, but she knew that Zeus’s idea of ‘diplomacy’ would do nothing to defuse the situation.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Eris said. “And I brought such a nice gift, too.” With a snap and a flash the golden apple that Odysseus had procured from the Garden of the Hesperides appeared in her hand. Many people oohed and awed at its shimmering skin, and the inner glow that somehow seemed to penetrate the dense metal covering of the fruit. She tossed the fruit to Ares with another wink, turned around with a whirl of fire, and walked out, reveling in the frantic whispering that followed her.

Golden Apple of Discord, Jacob Jordaens, 1633

“Well, what is it?” Zeus asked his son, half expecting it to be some sort of explosive device.

“It’s one of the apples from my garden,” Hera said.

“A garden you haven’t visited, let alone tended, in decades, sister,” Demeter pointed out, “And this specimen is far larger and more lustrous than anything I remember you bringing back to me on Mt. Olympus.”

“Fruit? Is that all it is?” Athena said with feigned naiveté as she circled her fellow war god, “Do I see something engraved upon it, Ares?”

“It’s addressed,” Ares said reluctantly.

“To whom?” the pretty bauble had Aphrodite’s interest.

“To… the fairest,” he finally answered.

“Oh, Eris is so sweet,” Athena gestured for Ares to hand it over.

“You think it’s for you?” Aphrodite scoffed at the notion, “If anything, you are the homeliest among us. I’m the goddess of beauty – who else could it be for?”

“Oh, please. You’re not the goddess of beauty,” Hera said as she descended from her throne, “You’re the goddess of low standards, bad decisions, and lifelong regrets. I am your queen, first among all women; clearly the apple belongs to me.”

“That’s not logical,” Athena said, “Being queen doesn’t make you objectively more beautiful than me,” Athena said.

“It makes me better than you two in all regards,” Hera said.

“Better than us?” Aphrodite grew angry, “What did you ever do that would make you think that? You became queen by crawling into your little brother’s bed after he murdered your father.”

Zeus started to say something, but Hera cut him off, “Ares, son, bring it here.”

Ares was in a dire situation. He was caught between his mother, Hera, his lover, Aphrodite, and his battle sister, Athena. “If I wanted to deal with this sort of bullshit, I’d get married again,” he growled and put the apple into Hephaestus’s hands.

Hephaestus was in no better a position – perhaps worse. He’d never been Zeus and Hera’s favorite child – in fact, he was almost certainly Hera's least favorite child. His best attempts to win their love and respect had been rewarded with an arranged marriage to Aphrodite that had turned out to be a cruel joke.

“Heff, baby,” Aphrodite laid a hand on his shoulder, “Would you like to sleep in the same bed tonight?” she asked in her softest but sultriest voice.

From what Zeus saw, Hephaestus, the whipped god of cuckholds, looked like he was about to cave to his wife. The last thing Zeus needed was Hera's distaste for their son developing into one of her legendary grudges. It would alienate the boy more than when she’d thrown him off Mt. Olympus as a child. Hephaestus might have been ugly as Tartarus and more socially awkward than its master, but he was also more useful than damn near all of Zeus’s other children put together. The weapons and devices he’d created for them had helped them rise to power and maintain their hold on Greece after the collapse of Knossos. Zeus needed a scapegoat, someone who could be the lightning rod for either Hera or Aphrodite’s antipathy, without any real consequence for him.

“No,” Zeus told Hephaestus, “Let one of the mortals decide to whom the apple should be awarded.” Those creatures were expendable – even the good ones were nothing worth crying over.

Athena’s coconspirator, Apollo, stepped forward. She’d coached him for this moment.

“I agree with father,” Apollo said, “A mortal is most likely to be impartial in the matter. However, I’d like to point out that it should not be anyone who is likely to be biased by blood or marriage. The judge should not be related to any of the contesting parties, and – I would also recommend – that the judge not be someone whose prosperity depends greatly on any one of the three. No rulers, no military men, no husbands or wives – no one who would have any cause to be devoted to one goddess over the others.”

“King Priam’s son, Paris of Troy,” Athena suggested. “He’s a young man, barely more than a child. He’s never seen a battlefield, he’s many years from marriage, and Priam has about two dozen heirs ahead of Paris in Troy’s line of succession."

Apollo seconded the notion, "Paris was one of Helen’s few suitors to pass Dionysus’s test of judgment,” he reminded everyone. That latter point had a lot to do with Tyche’s coin, but there was no reason for Athena to bring that up.

Aphrodite remembered Paris’s infatuation with Helen, and smiled in spite of herself as she concocted a devious, albeit obvious, plan, “Yes, Paris would be an excellent choice.”

“It’s settled, then,” Zeus ignored Hera’s opinion on the matter, eager to see the whole episode behind them, “The judgment of Paris will decide the apple’s rightful owner. Go to the boy, make your cases, and then bring him here.”

The Judgement of Paris, Peter Paul Rubens, c. 1636

The first to go to Paris was Athena herself. Obviously, Athena had no desire to win, but she also needed to keep up the appearances of trying. She knew that many in the boy’s family disrespected his lack of martial skill, so she promised to remake him into a brilliant strategist and cunning warrior if he chose her. It was an easy promise to make, given she knew the foolish boy wouldn’t take her deal.

After Athena, Paris was visited by Hera. Desperate to put Aphrodite in her place, Hera had gone so far as to disrobe in front of Paris, but the boy had simply held his hands up and begged her to put her clothes back on – seeing Hera naked was like seeing his own mother naked, except somehow much, much worse. Hera’s next move was bribery – if he chose her, she would put him on the throne of Troy. If the boy had twenty four heirs between him and the throne, then she would kill twenty four princes. In truth, Paris didn’t want the throne, and he loved his family – Hera would have had better luck if she’d threatened to kill his brothers rather than offering to do so.

Finally, Aphrodite came to Paris. The boy was ‘not yet a man’ in the euphemistic sense, so Aphrodite had briefly considered simply offering to make him one personally, but ultimately decided her first plan would afford her more leverage. She’d brought the boy’s chin up to hers with a seductive stroke of her finger, grazed her soft nose across his cheek, and then whispered in his ear, “Give me the apple, and I will make Helen of Sparta, Helen of Troy.”

Continued in Homer's Iliad and Divine Retribution: The Fall.