Pandora Gets Greedy (23 page)

“Iole! Look at me! The windows in that room were
high, but maybe they got through them somehow. Maybe Alcie climbed…. there was a door to the food-preparation room, right? We just have to hope that they got out.”

“Oh, yes!” came a mocking voice from the stairway. “
Let's just hope they got out!
”

Iole and Homer turned to see Rufina, huffing and clutching at the railing as she tottered, unable to see the steps, on her way down.

“Rufina,” Homer called. “Is there any other way to get into that room?”

“Shut up, slave,” she panted.

“Rufina,
your parents
are in there and something really horrible is happening,” Homer went on, trying to appeal to her love for her family. “You have to help!”

“I don't have to do
anything
. And I couldn't care less about what's happening in that room, except that you, Vestal, obviously aren't yet buried under it! When I am through with you both, you're going to
wish
you were in there, no matter what's going on. I am going to see to it that you are tormented, stretched, ripped, rendered, and …”

Rufina descended the last step and gasped for breath.

“That's it,” Iole said calmly. “Homer, put me on your shoulders.”

“Where was I? Oh yes, branded, scoured, flayed …”

“Take me over to her,” said Iole, and Homer walked across the floor.

“… punctured, pierced, pounded …”

Iole drew her arm back and punched Rufina right in the face; breaking, from the sound of it, the blob that was her nose. As Rufina fell back, Iole clambered down off Homer and began kicking Rufina in the sides, rolling her around the entry room like a large ball while Rufina yelled her head off.

“All your fault! All! Your!
Fault!
” Iole spat out, her body heaving with the force of each kick.

“Iole!” Homer cried, holding her back from doing any serious damage to the incredibly obese girl. “Come on. Leave her. She can't get up and with a little luck no one will find her for days.”

He turned Iole away, making certain she didn't see him give Rufina one last mighty kick that sent her rolling off into a small anteroom.

“Ow!” yelped Iole when Homer took her hand to lead her out of the house.

“What?”

“My thumb. The pain is excruciating.”

“Your punching thumb?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Homer asked, “Remember when you hit
Rufina; did you have your thumb inside or outside of your fingers?”

“Inside.”

“Let me see it,” Homer said, gingerly examining Iole's swelling thumb. “It's broken. But hey, nice punch. Lotta blood.”

“Oh, no,” wailed Iole.

“Hah!” came Rufina's voice from the anteroom.

“It'll heal. I'll make you a splint. Next time, keep your thumb outside your fingers.”

Just then, there was a crash and a shattering in the anteroom as a ceramic urn toppled off a pedestal and conked Rufina on her head.

“Ouuuuuuch,” came Rufina's muffled voice, then the sound of her head bumping the floor as she passed out.

“I'll remember,” Iole said, with a sad smile. “Next time.”

“You never took me up on your Maiden Day present, did you?” Homer said, hurrying through the house and stepping out into the courtyard where he quickly untied Dido. “Ten free lessons in self-defense, including hacking and …”

He looked at Iole who was staring back at the house of Lucius Valerius; now quiet, as if everything and everyone had simply been washed away. Homer was silent.

“No, Homer, I haven't taken you up on your offer,” Iole said, stifling a sob. “Maybe if I had, I could have put a stop to all this madness. Somehow.”

“I don't think so, Iole. Not this,” Homer said, lightly touching her shoulder. “It was still a nice punch, though. C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” asked Iole.

“Your idea,” Homer replied. “Outside the city wall on the eastern road out of Rome.”

“That was when I thought there was a chance we'd all make it,” Iole said, stopping short. “That was when I saw Alcie was still alive and Crispus—oh, Crispus—he never asked for any of this.”

“Iole,” said Homer, Dido at his side. “We're just gonna have to have a little faith.”

“I will say this, Cloacina,” Jupiter laughed as he surveyed the hall. “You have style.”

There was absolutely nothing left.

The tables, chairs, and pillows were gone. The floor lamps, gone. The tapestries and banners, gone. Plates, platters, and goblets … all gone. And there wasn't a living human to be seen. Two guests, a man and a woman, both still clutching several of the fake aureus, had gotten stuck behind a large pillar and had drowned there and then, but otherwise, the room was empty and silent.

And very wet.

And very clean.

“I do, don't I?” Cloacina chirped. “You should invite me out a little more often. Let the family get to know me better. Wouldn't always be turning their noses up at me if they were comfortable, you know? Or you
could all come for an evening meal at my place! And then we could go for a moonlit sail on the Tiber. Sound fun?”

“Yes, my dear,” Jupiter said. “A great deal of fun. Only we'll have to let all those waterlogged guests get a ways downriver.”

“Hah,” Zeus agreed. “I wouldn't want to be the first citizen to gaze at the Tiber tomorrow.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” said Cloacina.

“What do you mean?” asked Jupiter.

“My realms are vast, Sky-Lords,” said Cloacina. “I never said I was sending them into the Tiber.”

“Okay,” Jupiter said, with a pause to look at Zeus. “And now I'm scared.”

“Right with you, Brother,” Zeus said. “If you will forgive my hasty departure, Cloacina, I must check on someone. Jupiter, care to take a walk?”

The food-preparation room, one of largest in any private home in Rome, was now bursting with escapees from the whirlpool. Almost all were slaves, some from other houses who'd only accompanied their masters for the evening, good and obedient servants of Valerius, the weeping Vestals, Varinia, and many guards. The house had indeed been shaken off its foundation by Cloacina's
“cleanup,” and a large piece of stone had fallen from an upper floor and was now blocking the way out into the small garden where the well was. Many slaves were sitting on the wine-stained floor or standing still, confused, shaken, and clinging to each other. There was only a smattering of tears as most were still dumbstruck with the fearful sight they'd just witnessed—and survived.

The space in the room was made all the more cramped due to the fact that Caesar's guards were keeping him surrounded while they tried to move the large stone away from the door at the same time other guards were keeping everyone, even Varinia, at a distance from Lucius Valerius. And Alcie was snapping at everyone to stay back from Pandy, but that was proving difficult to accomplish; everyone close by wanted to see what the two golden-haired men were doing to the mortally wounded maiden.

Suddenly Zeus and Jupiter pushed their way through the crowd, followed by most of the other immortals. The humans in the room were squished up against the walls; some were nearly trampled.

“Why does she still lie on ground, son?” Zeus asked Apollo as he stared at Pandy. She was now beyond pale, blood flowing freely from the wound in her shoulder, piles of soaked rags off to the side.

“We cannot stem the flow of blood,” answered Apollo.

“Her wound was serious to be certain, Phoebus,” said Jupiter. “But your skill outweighs any mortal weapon.”

“Phoebus?” shrieked a woman standing close by.

“Great Jupiter,” answered Phoebus. “We have tried every method we know. We have removed the blade but the wound will not staunch. It's as if something is interfering with our power.”

“Jupiter? Jupiter! Hey, everyone, look, it's Jupiter and Phoebus,” a man crushed against a nearby wall began to shout.

“I always thought Jupiter was bigger!”

“No … no! It's
him
! I'd recognize that face anywhere!”

“I think I see Venus, and someone who looks just like her!” said another man.

“You have all the powers attendant upon the god of healing, my son,” said Zeus to Apollo. “This is not …”

Zeus turned to see nearly the entire room on their knees in front of him. All the gods—only Hera and Juno were missing—found dozens of mortals at their feet.

“Oh, heavens,” Jupiter sighed, turning. “Game's up.”

“Mighty Jupiter,” began one man, wringing his hands. “I have been out of a job for seven moons now; is there anything you can …”

“Great Phoebus,” cried a woman. “My son has been turned away from the medical academy. Do you think you could put in a good word?”

“Minerva! Oh, wise Minerva! My wife spends money like a sailor with one night ashore. Would you curse her for me?”

“Venus? Oh, then you must be Aphrodite! I have a pimple on my …”

“Bacchus! Would you sign my toga?”

Jupiter looked at Zeus.

“Were all these people in here when we walked in?” he asked sideways out of his mouth, trying to maintain a beneficent smile.

“I don't know. I tend not to really notice mortals up close.”

“Okay, citizens, show's over,” said Jupiter. “Nothing to see here. Move along.”

“They can't move, Father,” said Mars. “Big stone blocking the exit.”

“Not anymore,” Zeus said with a flick of his forefinger, sending the stone toppling. “Everyone who needs to stay, stay. The rest, begone.”

No one moved. Only Pandy moaned slightly in her unconsciousness and that was all Zeus needed. With one glance over the room, he took in those with a reason to remain. With a nod of his head, everyone else vanished.

“Tell me you didn't pull a ‘Cloacina' and send those slaves down a drain to nowhere,” Jupiter said.

“They're right outside and out of the way,” said Zeus. “Now, sons, what keeps you from healing this maiden?”

“Might be me,” came a deep voice from a shadowy corner.

“And me.”

“Buster!” cried Persephone. “It's my big Buster!”

“Hi, honey-cake,” Hades said, grabbing his wife and giving her a whirl.

“Miss me, lambkins?” said Pluto, stepping forward and planting a kiss on Proserpine.

“And
how
!” she said.

“Oh, well,
that's
just terrific,” said Phoebus. “No wonder we couldn't get anything done. No offense, Uncle Pluto, but your natural death-waves are really wrecking the good vibrations we're sending out.”

“Faaaather,” whined Apollo. “We want to heal her. Make them
stop
!”

“We're not here for the girl, nephew,” said Pluto.

“Nope,” said Hades. “She's all yours, you hacks. It's just that it's getting chilly up here in the mortal world, which means winter is coming on. We need our snuggle-bunnies to keep us warm. Remember, Persephy … it's your promise. Six moons up here and six moons with me.”

“Oh, Buster-boo,” said Persephone. “I can't wait, you
know that! Let me just say good-bye, then you and I can get outta here!”

“That go for us too, squash-blossom?” said Pluto to Proserpine.

“Double, my big, lord-of-the-dead fuzzy-wuzzy.”

“Okay. Seriously?” said Aphrodite. “You two talk like that for six months?
Seriously
?”

“Yep,” said Alcie softly.

“I'm the goddess of love and that's making even me sick.”

“Wow,” snorted Apollo. “I am so glad you don't show up at more family reunions, Uncle.”

“You know nothing about how to keep the flames of love alive, you silly boy,” said Hades to Apollo. “All you do is get ladies turned into laurel trees and such. Come on, P.”

“Hang on,
H
to the
A
to the
D
…,” Persephone said, already on the move.

She glided over to Alcie and kissed her on the forehead. Then she took Proserpine's arm, and the two goddesses went to Pandy. Persephone gently placed her hand directly on the still-flowing wound. Immediately, the blood slowed to a trickle and Pandy, with a great shudder and gasp, opened her eyes.

“How did you …?” asked Phoebus.

“What gives?” said Apollo.

“Silly boys,” said Persephone. “We're the goddesses of springtime. Which means we have the ability to stimulate life where there appears to be none. To bring hope in the darkness. To revive that which is thought to be dead.”

“I know,” said Proserpine.

“I
know
!” said Persephone.

“Isn't that right, Pluty-wooty?” giggled Proserpine.

“As rain,” said Pluto, pinching her playfully.

“Pandora's body had just shut down, that's all,” said Persephone. “And her spirit was in tremendous confusion. I don't wonder why, with everything this maiden has been through. Neither Hades nor Pluto was wrecking your vibes, uncles. It was Pandora herself, on the brink of a very im-por-
tant
decision. She didn't even really need our help, but if any goddesses can stir up a positive outlook it's Proserpine and I. It didn't take potions or spells; just a little breath of spring. A little revival. Now, Uncle, you may handle all the silly topical stuff. Okay, we're off!”

“This was fun!” said Proserpine.

“I know!”

“I KNOW!”

Hades, Persephone, Pluto, and Proserpine disappeared in a flash of black smoke and a shower of white rose petals.

“Topical stuff!” said Apollo.

“Quiet and attend to the maiden,” said Zeus, as Pandy began to stir. “Immortals, away! Pandora has a few things to accomplish after she fully wakes and we should not distract her further with our presence. We have a few things to do ourselves, don't you agree, Brother?”