Alecto

I.

How many years was it before the taste of the pomegranate?

I suppose I am devoid of desire: it is well known that I despise eating fruit.

In any case I have seen a hundred seasons change furiously.

I have brushed, chastely or not, against the lives and lips of women,

And I on darkened days have seen the goddess on her throne and been afraid.

II.

Who would risk the journey to the realm of the dead,

and who among those few should dare to steal the queen?

One such man was highborn, though of uncertain parentage.

Perhaps Zeus was his sire; other common songs

declare his father to be the ever-burning Ixion.

His companions are more honored than he-

one lopped off the head of the Minotaur and freed Athens;

the other, greatest of heroes, was in truth courageous Heracles,

slayer of lions and giants, he whose great deeds are innumerable.

Once before the Great War of Troy, Helen was kidnapped.

Theseus had stolen the beauty of the world, and warlike Pirithous

was envious. He too desired a prize beyond all others.

He set his eyes upon disaster, and so they traveled to Lerna.

The three descended rocky paths through secret caves

and came upon the shores of painful Acheron.

They stepped on the ferry without regard for paying the fare.

Their weight pushed the craft dangerously close to the surface.

The boatman suffered their presence. He did not speak a word.

III.

Across the soulless river the heroes encountered many wonders.

The grandeur of their surroundings cannot be described,

even if the god of prophecy himself spoke praise onto leaves.

They came to a dining hall, carved from granite with incredible skill.

Bright torches lined the walls at regular intervals.

A large table lined with chairs on both sides stretched nearly the length of the room-

at the head of the table were two thrones wrought of bone and iron.

One throne was vacant, the other was occupied by a forbidding woman.

The three met her eyes and in an instant knew her name:

this was the daughter of earth, the raped one, the Empress of Hell.

She spoke to them in a girlish voice,

“Oh, how interesting! Visitors!

That you are yet alive proves your worth.

Come. Sit. Let us speak.”

They obeyed her request. They sat in chairs.

Ropes of stone burst from the floor and encircled their limbs.

A terrible specter appeared from inside the wall.

She moved forward but her feet did not touch the ground.

Her eyes were dull red, serpents were her hair.

“Speak the truth,” the Fury hissed, “or I shall torment your divine parents

until madness makes them envy mortal men,

to say nothing of the punishments you have earned.

 Lie or offend and my anger shall never cease.

Why have you come?”

He that once saw his adoptive father die at the sight of black sails exclaimed,

“I have come to support my brother in arms!”

He that once won glory in battle with centaurs quietly said,

“I have come to take for my own wife the dark lord’s bride.”

The mighty Heracles screamed out,

“You may make no demands upon me! A curse upon you, Alecto!

I defeated the many-headed Hydra, the greatest foe that ever drew breath!

Defend yourself or die!”

With a grunt of effort, Heracles cast away the granite shackles.

He freed Theseus with only a slight strain,

then turned his attention to the other captive.

He lifted. He roared. Each well-trained muscle rippled,

but Pirithous could not be freed.

Alecto laughed harshly then exhaled without a sound.

The demigods were thrown against a wall.

Breathless and white-faced, the two slowly stood.

Serpents seethed around her cheekbones

and she raised her arms as if to seize at throats.

“Leave now, both of you. Or we shall follow.

My sisters delight in pain more than I.

Your comrade belongs to me. Forever.”

IV.

When will she come with a gift? She often comes when I am awake.

What will she bring? A small peeled piece of an apple,

the delectable scent of the sweat at the nape of her neck?

After many years it occurs to me that I have never glimpsed

the dark cloak of Hades, nor his famed impassive face.

Suddenly she walks into the hall and sits far from the lonely thrones.

I say to her, “Where is your husband?”

She giggles like a young girl picking flowers and replies,

“He cannot be seen. He cannot be seen.

Only a man would require that death had a King.

Tell me, why are the Fates and Furies women,

if mortal men imagine they have power?”

She tosses her hair and the torches are extinguished.

She laughs. Her voice blackens like the air.

“Fool! For many years I have not seen the sun,

though it is my right to surface when spring bursts upon the land.

Has my mother not noticed that I remain ensconced in darkness?

Does she believe that her brother and I have become happy?

“The vain gods of thunderbolts and earthquakes

have often forgotten their unseen kinsman,

but soon enough they will burn pyres and proclaim footraces.

They will swear to exact revenge when they know what I have done.

Let them come! Charon knows to give them safe passage;

I fear them as lions fear elderly horses.

Already in this very hall a god was slain by my hand!

I am anxious to greet my father and uncle,

to scar and scorch and bury them in dust,

but until they arrive you will have to do.”

She kisses me. My mouth thickens with blood. The snakes hiss.