Down Time

By Richard Zwicker

            “Where is Theseus? Where is my husband?” Antiope asked Heracles. Her black hair tumbled to her broad shoulders as she brandished her spear, bringing the raucous, two-day house party to a halt. Four Amazon attendants flanked her. Three were breathtakingly beautiful in a muscle-bound sort of way. Alala wore jagged loops of metal from ankle to thigh. She tied her waist-length, black hair in a ponytail. Megaira wore breast plate armor and a pointed helmet, even when she went to bed. Dorkas was wiry and cut her hair short, as if warning it not to get in her way. The fourth, a diminutive man, had the name Sebastos embossed across his chest.

            Heracles, heavily under Bacchus’s influence, looked up from an arm-wrestling match with the Oracle of Athenai. In Heracles’ tight, scanty loincloth, most of his bulging muscles were visible. In contrast, the oracle’s shapeless cloak made him look like a haystack.

            “You know, I’m in the middle of something,” Heracles bristled through his beard, though the oracle had spoiled things by revealing the strongman would win.

            Antiope’s attendants converged on Heracles.

           “You have an overarching need to commit macho acts,” said Alala, the attendant with metal leglets.

           “This indicates doubts about your masculinity,” said Megaira, the armored attendant.

           “You should get in touch with your feminine side,” said Dorkas, the shorthaired Amazon.

            Sebastos nodded emphatically.

            After making a mental note to stop going to Antiope’s parties, Heracles defeated the oracle, then stared at Sebastos. “What I don't understand is what you're doing with a group of Amazons.”

            “I was adopted,” said Sebastos. 

            Heracles felt the sharp point of Antiope’s spear.       “Where is my husband?” she hissed.

            Heracles winced. “He and Pirithous mentioned something about going to the underworld, which I tried to discourage. Been there, done that, don’t want to do it again.”

            “This is an outrage!” Antiope said. “Amazons mate once a year, and that day is… the day after tomorrow.” Her deep eyes widened. “Sisters,” she said to her attendants. “We need to take a walk.” Alala, Megaira, Dorkas, and Sebastos nodded and followed Antiope to the door. Before leaving, Antiope glanced back at Heracles and the oracle. “If you’re not going to help, you can clean up the house.”

            Littered with half-empty goblets, spilt wine, and strewn food, the house looked like Atlas had picked it up and dropped it.

            “I am receiving bad vibrations about this,” the oracle said.

            “About the house or the underworld?” Heracles asked.

            “Both. Mostly the house.”

            Heracles felt guilty about revealing Theseus’s trip, but everyone knew the dangers of the underworld. If Hades didn’t get him, Antiope would. Sighing, he straightened his loincloth and strode to the door.

            “Been there. Done that. Doing it again.”

###

            The shadowy water of the River Styx drifted like an aimless spirit, reflecting the emptiness of everyone’s future. Slow, irregular footfalls on rocky terrain signaled the approach of two tired men. Pirithous’s gung-ho expression contrasted with Theseus’s deepening, bearded scowl. 

            “You're not having second thoughts about this, are you?” Pirithous asked, halting at the river. His head of dark curls and impossibly handsome baby face made verbal gravity a challenge.

            Theseus leaned his muscular body against a rock-ribbed wall. “Of course, but as I've never known you to have a second thought in your life, I don't see any point in sharing.”

            Pirithous’s face softened. “We are comrades. Please, tell me anything.”

            Theseus looked doubtfully at his friend. “Did it ever occur to you that Hades, or for that matter, Persephone won’t go along with this?”

            “No. From what I've heard, Hades really loves Persephone and wants what is best for her. I think Persephone is going to be flattered when she sees the trouble we're going through. And besides, I have a great opening line for when we meet.”

            “She's not going to be flattered that you want to kidnap her, even if we walked on our hands blindfolded to the underworld. Hades will be even less impressed. He doesn't like people leaving his realm.”

            “He doesn't like dead people leaving his realm, but Persephone is still alive. Do you honestly think a young woman is going to be satisfied by the master of the underworld, even if he is a god? I'll bet she wakes up every morning thinking, I'm tired of living in this hole in the ground. I'm tired of giving parties for dead people. And it’s got to be a great hardship for Hades to support a live person in the underworld. He must have to import everything. Where does he get his water, his fruits and vegetables? He'll probably thank me for taking this burden off his hands.”

            Theseus brushed drops of sweat from his forehead. “First of all, Persephone is not a person, she’s a goddess. She’s no more out of place in the underworld than Hades is. Second, do you like the seasons?”

            Pirithous thought for a moment. “Well, I like spring. That's when I start to feel kind of frisky.”

            “The only reason we have four seasons is because of the months Persephone spends in the underworld. You'd change the lives of all Greeks just to satisfy your lust?”

            Pirithous shrugged. “Sure. Wouldn't anybody?”

            Theseus threw up his hands. He’d consented to this trip because rescuing Pirithous from his crazy ideas was what he did. Without question, the younger man brought zest to his life, but Theseus’s years of adventures had left a trail of broken hearts and death. Both he and the adventures were getting old. He would allow Pirithous his caper one last time, though he wished it didn’t involve crossing Hades. After this, he would either rein his friend in or cut ties.

           But first, there was the obstacle of the river. Theseus stuck his hand in, then yanked it out.

            “That's hot! How are we going to cross this?”

            As if in answer, the water churned and frothed. Theseus and Pirithous stepped back as wisps of smoke assumed the shape of a disgruntled old man. His stringy white hair, curling fingers, and long nose resembled writhing worms.

            “You will not cross the River Styx,” the spirit droned. “The only way is aboard Charon's boat, and I've tried everything. I've offered him gold, the rags off my back. I even said I'd swab his deck. Result: here I stay.”

            “I thought ferrying dead people across the river was his job,” said Theseus.

            “Well, he’s got no competition. No one else wants that cursed job, least of all him. I never met such a negative person in my life. There's no point in even waiting for him. You have a better chance of Poseidon giving you a lift on his sea horse.” The spirit looked longingly at the two men.  “Say, you didn't bring along any live animals, did you?”

            “No, we're fresh out of live animals,” said Pirithous.

            The spirit stared at the two men. “By Zeus’s thunderbolt, what I wouldn't do for a few drops of warm blood.”

            There was an extended pause. As time didn’t mean anything in the underworld, it occurred to Theseus that this could go on forever. “Well, we’ll be on our way.” That left the problem of how to get across the river, but soon they heard long, soft, swishing noises. As the volume increased, Theseus recognized the sounds of a boat being poled up the Styx. The two men and one spirit stared downriver, and, after a few moments, tall, unsmiling, bearded Charon pulled his boat up in front of them. The spirit dashed to the ancient boatman.

            “Charon, I see you've got some space in your boat. How about a ride?”

            Charon looked left, right, up, and down. “No customers today? Guess I'll just go back to the other side.”

            “You're not funny, Charon!” the spirit sputtered. “You're the death of the party. You are to humor what Zeus is to marital fidelity. Something funny happened on the way to the underworld, and it wasn't you. If Odysseus can call himself No Man, you should call yourself No comedian. If I could get my hands on one tree---one tree, with an advanced case of termites--I'd build a raft and put you out of business!”      

            Charon addressed the two men. “I keep him here for atmosphere, though it may be time for a change. Who are you?”

            Pirithous cleared his throat. “We’re two Greeks with an appointment to speak to Hades.”

            Charon looked at them, puzzled. “I'm sure you are and that you do, but aren't you early? You're still alive.”

            “My philosophy is, don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” Pirithous said.

            “That's just it. You can't do it today. You have to wait until you die. I can't take two live people across the River Styx.”

            “Why not?” asked Pirithous.

            “The liability for one thing. What if you get hurt during the passage? Who do you think is going to be held responsible?”

            “What if we sign an agreement freeing you of all responsibility?” Theseus asked.

            Charon scratched his beard. “That could work, but you'd have to pay double the passage fee. Two coins each in the mouth of the dead man.”

            “What -- ” the spirit said, but Pirithous jammed four coins into the spirit’s mouth, causing him to choke and fall to the ground. 

            After Theseus and Pirithous signed a clay tablet, Charon said, “All right. Come with me.”

            “Wait,” Theseus said. “Once we get across the river, which way is it to the underworld?”

            “Oh, right. First you take a left on Hekatonkheiris Street, then proceed to the third right, which will be Mnemosyne Lane. Then you take the road that veers to the left, which some people call Scylla and others call Charybdis. Whatever you do, stay in the middle of that. Next take a hard right at the intersection of Clotho and Atropos. You’ll pass Harpies Way, but don’t take that or you’ll never hear the end of it. Finally, just bear straight up Eros Alley. I’d recommend not following the arrows, though.”

            Pirithous glanced at Theseus. “Did you get all that?”

            “I can't even remember the question. Why can't you give your roads names like Pleasant Street?”

            “Pleasant Street? In the underworld?” asked Charon.

            Theseus frowned. “Is there another way?”

            “Oh, sure. Just carry on. You can't miss it.”

            “What did you just tell us to take Heka-whatsis, Charybdis, and the third left after Harpy Way for?” Theseus asked angrily. 

            “I thought you'd want to see the sights. Most people aren't in a hurry to get to the underworld. It's kind of the end of the road.”

            “We're just visiting. We'll be back,” Pirithous said.

            “Don't bet on it,” Charon said flatly as the two men climbed into his boat. 

###

            Some time later, Heracles, Antiope, and her attendants reached the riverbank of the Styx. 

            “What time is it?” Antiope asked.

            “I don't know. My sundial stopped,” Heracles said.

            “This is no joking matter. It is a sacred tradition that Amazons mate once a year to continue our race. If we don't find Theseus soon, I will have to … improvise.” She looked appraisingly at Heracles.   

            “Calm down. We'll find him.” He studied the river. “I just don’t know how.” 

            “This is so typical of males,” said Alala, the metal-looped attendant. “They have a responsibility and what do they do? Run off. Completely undependable.”

           “It is a shame we cannot live our lives independent of them,” said Sebastos.

            Heracles winced. “Sebastos, how can you say these things about your own sex?”

            “I have my reasons,” he said, smiling wanly.
            “One of these days I'm going to get you away from them,” Heracles vowed, then became silent when he realized he’d just made two promises next to the River Styx. If he didn’t come through with both of them, according to legend he’d have to drink from it, which rendered a person mute for nine years. Once again, the soft, brushing sound of a pole broke the silence, and the hoary figure of Charon reappeared.

            “Oh no. Not you again,” Charon said, grimacing.

            “This wasn't my idea,” Heracles said.

            “Why don't you just eat some pomegranate seeds and be done with it?”

            “Look. We just want to get Theseus and Pirithous. You don't want them here, we don't want them here. We can work something out.”   

            “My boat is a transport for dead people. It wasn't meant to ferry flesh and blood.” 

            “Let me reason with him,” Antiope said. She grabbed Charon, lifted him over her head, and tossed him into the water. Sputtering, he swam toward his boat, but backed off as Antiope waved her spear. “Let's go.”

            “You certainly have a way with men,” Heracles said as they boarded the boat. He started poling.

            Antiope nodded. “Talk softly, carry a big stick, and apply when needed.” 

###

            The oppressive walls of the cavern gave way to a large, open area. Pirithous and Theseus stepped gingerly onto a narrow, winding path. A sheer drop into smoldering oblivion hugged both sides. In front of them loomed the dark, forbidding castle of Hades, an enormous rectangle of stone under a narrowing tower that pierced the red and gray sky. Blasted mountains of rock flanked the castle like giant husks. At a loss for words, the two men approached the iron front door. To their surprise, it had been left unguarded and open. Pirithous glanced at his friend.

            “Don’t you dare say, After you,” said Theseus.

            “Just wanted to make sure you were still with me,” said Pirithous. 

            They entered. A short hall led to a large, gloomy room with bare walls of unpolished gold. Ornate pots filled with stones were randomly placed on the cold floor. Two simple chairs were set in the center. Standing to their left, a silent, long-tressed woman examined a dull gem.

           “That's her, Persephone,” said Pirithous.

            “She doesn't look very happy,” said Theseus.

            “That's because she hasn't met me yet. Wait until you hear my great opening line.” Pirithous stepped forward. “What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

            “That was your great opening line?” Theseus asked.

            Persephone watched, stone-faced, her days of romping through meadows forgotten. Undaunted, Pirithous pulled out a faded bouquet of flowers from his sack and handed it to Persephone. “For you.”

            Persephone examined the flowers. “They're dead.”

            “Well, of course they're dead,” Pirithous said, annoyed. “What was I supposed to do? Dig up the whole garden and drag it down here? Even if I had, they wouldn't have survived long without the sun.”

            “Neither will you,” Persephone said.

            Theseus and Pirithous exchanged uneasy glances. 

           “Maybe you should make some small talk,” Theseus said, without enthusiasm.

            “Right. I have another great line.” He turned to Persephone. “So, where have you been all my life?”

            “We’re doomed,” Theseus lamented.

            “Don’t mind him,” Pirithous said. “I believe relationships should bring out the best in each person. That is clearly not the case with you and Hades. You make the master of the underworld, the one god who must be clear-headed and impartial at all times, weak and clouded. He stifles your beauty, your love of nature, your life. I have come to save you from this place where you don't belong.”

            It was all a lie, Theseus thought. Pirithous didn’t really care about Persephone. He was there for the challenge. Never had that reasoning seemed less justified.

            “I know why you came,” Persephone said, as if she had read Theseus’ mind. 

            Pirithous turned to Theseus. “She’s not the greatest conversationalist.”

            At that moment Hades entered. Tall and regal, wearing a simple crown over his dark hair and a loose cloak over his body, his manner was as expansive as Persephone’s was dour. “I bid you welcome and commend your bravery in making the trip to my realm. I will listen to your arguments as to why I should surrender my wife to you. Please have a seat.”

            “I told you he'd be understanding,” Pirithous said to Theseus.

            “He's being too understanding.”

            As Pirithous and Theseus sat in the chairs, two vacuous smiles appeared on their faces. 

            “You certainly went to a lot of trouble, but I guess that seems far away since you are now both sitting on chairs of forgetfulness,” said Hades. “You've lost your reason for coming. It won't even occur to you to get off the chairs. It's really not such a bad way to spend eternity. Maybe I should have told you before you sat down, but I forgot.”

            “I’m sure I don’t want two men sitting in my living room for the rest of eternity,” Persephone said. 

            At that moment Heracles, Antiope, and the Amazon attendants entered.

            “Maybe we can take them off your hands,” said a limping Heracles.

            “This really is a living room,” Hades said, turning to Heracles. “You again? What do you think this is, a vacation resort? What happened to your leg?”

            “Cerberus, your damned dog, sunk all three sets of his teeth into me.” Heracles limped to the two chairs. “What did you do to them? They look like their brains have turned to mush.”

            “They're men,” said Dorkas, the short-haired attendant. “I don't see any difference.”

            Antiope stalked over to Theseus, brandishing her spear. “Get up this instant, or I'll use your body for a sheath.” 

            “As long as he's sitting on a chair of forgetfulness, he won't understand anything you say,” said Persephone.   

            “Then he needs to get off.” Heracles strained to lift Theseus. The smile on Theseus’s face vanished as he was pulled to his feet.

            “That was comfortable. I could sit in that chair forever,” said Theseus.

            “You would have, if it wasn't for us.” Heracles glared at Pirithous. “I'm tempted to leave that loser here, but …” He clasped his arms around the seated man and strained but could not lift him off. “That’s odd.”

            “You’re not trying,” said Theseus, who grabbed onto his friend and pulled until the walls shook, but Pirithous didn’t budge.  

            “What’s going on?” he asked Hades.

            “This one is mine,” Hades said. “He has tempted fate once too often. Everyone needs a little down time, but there has to be a balance. Too much down time and you end up down here that much sooner.”

            Hades’ words hit Theseus like a death sentence. He thought how much of his life had been spent doing guy things, and sitting oblivious in front of him was the guy he did them with. In desperation, he rushed at Hades, only to be knocked to the floor by a gauntleted slap.

            “You might consider finding something else to give your life meaning,” Hades continued. “Your wife, for instance.”

            Theseus massaged the left side of his face. He couldn’t free Pirithous, and if he stayed, he wouldn’t even remember him. But how could he live knowing he’d failed his friend?

            “I cannot desert him.” Theseus stepped toward the empty chair.

            “No!” Antiope threw her muscular arms around her husband in restraint.

            Hades stepped between Theseus and the chair. “Be thankful your wife cares more for you than Pirithous did.”

            “Why should I be spared?” asked Theseus.

            “I’m offering you the rest of your life to figure that out,” said Hades.

            Theseus stopped pulling from his wife. One thing about the god of the underworld: he didn’t change his mind. The time had come for him to do something the gods never did: grow up.

            “I’m sorry,” he said to everyone. “Let’s go.”

            “Good advice,” Hades said. “And Heracles, I don't want to see your face down here again.”

            “Don't worry,” Heracles said. “I have it on good authority I’ll soon be made a full-fledged god. I should be able to stay out of here until then.” 

            The Amazon attendants walked up to Persephone. “Stand up for your rights, sister,” said Megaira, the armored attendant.

            “See you in the spring,” she said, her voice soft but sure.

            Antiope turned to Theseus. “Do you know what time it is?”

            “Time for me to stop leading with my chin?” asked Theseus.

            “No. It took a day to get here,” Antiope said. “It will take another day to return, which would make it -- .” With that, Antiope yanked Theseus out of the room.

           Heracles turned to Sebastos.

            “I still don't know why you put up with this arrangement.”

            Sebastos puffed out his chest. “Because they're all Amazons. This is the time of year I get my fringe benefits.” 

            Alala, Megaira, and Dorkas pulled him out of the room. Heracles followed, feeling a little left out.

            Hades glanced at Persephone. “The things we do for love.”