Chapter 6: Third Circle
The world had been split in two only a few days ago, and the Eriphyle was still in an uproar. Little work got done on deck, as the hands fell to arguments and fisticuffs. Some men held raucous toasts to the new gods, praying that they would displace capricious Poseidon. Others, great-hearted Dunam’s loyalists, would brook no such talk and routinely swore oaths against those who would see Poseidon felled. Calls for mutiny went up from all sides and were promptly quashed.
And always, always, there was the colorful raving of ChinDoGu of the sober jests. Dunam’s right-hand man was among the most trusted mariners on the ship, and even would-be mutineers admitted grudgingly that without the priest the Eriphyle would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean before it got five leagues from Troy. So when ChinDoGu told the crew that Poseidon had been poisoned by nefarious Amphitrite, they listened.
Fire-winged Axiallus was among the listeners. He lay on deck one day at sunset, exhausted after a difficult sixteen hours maintaining order for his captain, and contemplated the exhortations of an unusually forceful ChinDoGu. He had a slight ringing in his ears – either exhaustion or the heat, no doubt – and had to concentrate to hear the priest’s words.
“Friends, I know our lord Poseidon doesn’t always treat us like a precious jewel,” ChinDoGu was saying. “And why should he? All the wealth of the sea is his, and all those who cross the sea are in his power. He is a god, and he has better things to do than look after a few unworthies such as we. Those who say his wife – some wife! – acted in justice are only fooling themselves, for she cares even less about us than Poseidon…”
Axiallus shook his head to stay awake. The ringing in his ears had grown louder; it almost sounded like a second voice, speaking in synch with the preacher. “Amphitrite,” said the priest and the mocking voice, “cares only about herself and her own power, for only one with such an evil soul could commit the dastardly act of poisoning her own husband. To align with her, or with the gang of Titans she brandishes at the true gods, is to align with lawlessness and the tyranny of the unscrupulous over the righteous. It is to grant that treachery is as acceptable a means to one’s end as virtue. Does that sound so bad, Axiallus?”
Surprised, Axiallus tried to sit up, but found himself paralyzed. The ringing in his ears was gone; it had grown to a seductive female voice which rendered ChinDoGu’s words inaudible. It commanded his attention as it continued. “I won’t waste time, mortal. You know who I am. You know what I want from you. And in spite of the words of the jester, you know I am powerful. Having you in my service would please me. And there is… much I could do for you in return.”
Axiallus was used to temptation. He hadn’t survived Troy by taking bribes or backstabbing his fellow soldiers. But then, it had never been a goddess asking him before. In spite of himself he wondered just what Amphitrite was promising – and shook off the thought. He would never…
But Amphitrite spoke again, her voice cool and smooth like the scales of a snake. “If not for yourself, Axiallus, for your ship and your captain. If Poseidon’s blessing has taken you here safely with such speed, imagine how his and mine together would propel you over the wine-dark sea! And imagine, incidentally, how my wrath would ruin your weak vessel and end its journey home forever. Don’t you owe it to them, and to yourself, to accept the gift I offer you? Please me, and I will assuredly please you in return. The choice is yours.”
And always, always, there was the colorful raving of ChinDoGu of the sober jests. Dunam’s right-hand man was among the most trusted mariners on the ship, and even would-be mutineers admitted grudgingly that without the priest the Eriphyle would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean before it got five leagues from Troy. So when ChinDoGu told the crew that Poseidon had been poisoned by nefarious Amphitrite, they listened.
Fire-winged Axiallus was among the listeners. He lay on deck one day at sunset, exhausted after a difficult sixteen hours maintaining order for his captain, and contemplated the exhortations of an unusually forceful ChinDoGu. He had a slight ringing in his ears – either exhaustion or the heat, no doubt – and had to concentrate to hear the priest’s words.
“Friends, I know our lord Poseidon doesn’t always treat us like a precious jewel,” ChinDoGu was saying. “And why should he? All the wealth of the sea is his, and all those who cross the sea are in his power. He is a god, and he has better things to do than look after a few unworthies such as we. Those who say his wife – some wife! – acted in justice are only fooling themselves, for she cares even less about us than Poseidon…”
Axiallus shook his head to stay awake. The ringing in his ears had grown louder; it almost sounded like a second voice, speaking in synch with the preacher. “Amphitrite,” said the priest and the mocking voice, “cares only about herself and her own power, for only one with such an evil soul could commit the dastardly act of poisoning her own husband. To align with her, or with the gang of Titans she brandishes at the true gods, is to align with lawlessness and the tyranny of the unscrupulous over the righteous. It is to grant that treachery is as acceptable a means to one’s end as virtue. Does that sound so bad, Axiallus?”
Surprised, Axiallus tried to sit up, but found himself paralyzed. The ringing in his ears was gone; it had grown to a seductive female voice which rendered ChinDoGu’s words inaudible. It commanded his attention as it continued. “I won’t waste time, mortal. You know who I am. You know what I want from you. And in spite of the words of the jester, you know I am powerful. Having you in my service would please me. And there is… much I could do for you in return.”
Axiallus was used to temptation. He hadn’t survived Troy by taking bribes or backstabbing his fellow soldiers. But then, it had never been a goddess asking him before. In spite of himself he wondered just what Amphitrite was promising – and shook off the thought. He would never…
But Amphitrite spoke again, her voice cool and smooth like the scales of a snake. “If not for yourself, Axiallus, for your ship and your captain. If Poseidon’s blessing has taken you here safely with such speed, imagine how his and mine together would propel you over the wine-dark sea! And imagine, incidentally, how my wrath would ruin your weak vessel and end its journey home forever. Don’t you owe it to them, and to yourself, to accept the gift I offer you? Please me, and I will assuredly please you in return. The choice is yours.”
Fire-winged Axiallus, please choose an option.
1. Convert to Amphitrite.
2. Refuse.
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