"The Stealing Of A Steed"
The door to the temple made an eerie, stone‑grinding sound as it lazily swung closed. In the darkness, the scraping sound of a sulfur stick on a stone wall could be heard. The chamber was now dimly lit as her delicate hand reached for the top of the torch. On igniting the flammable cloths, the chamber was bathed in the ghostly glow of torch light.
Cleopatra headed for the stone altar and knelt down in front of the bronze statue of Anubis, god of the netherworld. Lighting a small candle, she began her chant.
“Oh, great and powerful Anubis, conductor of the dead to the place of judgment, hear your Queen of the Nile, Daughter of Isis, as she begs upon your likeness for a favor.” There was silence.
Suddenly, the eyes of the great jackal‑headed statue began to flicker red. Smoke flowed silently from the nostrils as the seven foot statue began to speak in a very low, monotone voice.
“Why do you disturb me?”
“Oh, great Anubis,” continued Cleopatra, bowing low before the statue, “I require a means to make Marcus Antonius jealous of me.”
“Ah, yes; the mortal weakness for pleasures of the flesh. A divine invention if I do say so,” began Anubis. “Can you find no one perfect enough to perform this task for you?”
“My people have found none,” replied the Queen, solemnly.
“That is because the gods have favored this Marcus Antonius. You must find another favored one.”
“Gods?” inquired Cleopatra, “why would Egyptian gods favor a Roman?”
“The Romans have their own gods,” replied Anubis.
“The Roman gods were silly idols that even their own people today no longer bow down before.”
“Whether they believe or not is unimportant,” stated Anubis. His voice appeared to soften, “the gods from centuries past still exist, whether believed in or not.”
“But Anubis...”
“Silence, child! I have revealed too much already,” his voice was once again stern and monotone, “you must find another mortal favored by the gods.”
“Who would that be?” asked Cleopatra.
“There are none at the present time, other than your precious Antonius. You must travel backwards to the last mortal that enjoyed this favored status.”
“Travel backwards?”
“Three centuries ago, the Macedonian king; conqueror of Greece, Persia and this land that you now rule.”
“Alexander the Great?! As respected as his deeds are, he was Greek! Marcus might not respect nor be jealous of a Greek!”
“He was Macedonian, but your Roman will respect him.”
“This is all very confusing,” stated the bewildered Queen.
“The ways of the gods are not to be understood. Listen to what I tell you. You must come with me to a place where I can help you,” stated Anubis.
“I will do as you say.”
“There is just one more thing; when we get to where we are going, you will address me as Hades—not Anubis.”
“Hades? The Greek god?”
“We gods know not, nor care not, of your mortal geographic boundaries. Hades is my Greek name. Pluto is my Roman name. In the centuries that follow, I will be known as Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies—it is all the same to me. One purpose—regardless of culture—one god.”
With that, there was a metallic grinding sound as the arms of the great statue came to life and reached toward the ceiling of the stone temple. The smoke that had been slowly flowing from his nostrils now turned red and burst out in billows, soon filling the chamber with a thick, choking smoke.
Anubis’ arms seemed to stretch and push up upon the ceiling, causing small rocks and sand to fall on Cleopatra. She crouched down, covering her head to protect herself. From what she could make out through the thick smoke, the chamber seemed to be changing; altering from the one she at entered earlier.
Cleopatra let out a small cry as it became harder to breathe the sulfuric smoke. Anubis roared out in deep tones, almost undetectable to the human ear. There was a flash and then silence.
As the smoke cleared, Cleopatra found herself in a cavern, deep within the earth. The familiar sight of the statue of Anubis was now replaced by the large figure of an old man seated on a stone throne. He had a long, black, flowing beard and thin, evil eyebrows. His skin tone was dark with traces of red, burnt from the fires that seemed to surround them. Flames shot up from the little pools of molten lava that gathered off to the sides of a flowing lava river. The temperature of the air was hot. Cleopatra rose and wiped the sweat off her brow.
“Anubis?” ventured the disoriented Queen, in a very timid voice, for even though she herself had dabbled in black magic, she had never experienced anything like this.
“Hades!” reminded the former Anubis.
“Hades, sir,” bowed Cleopatra, “can you get me Alexander the Great?”
“Rise!” commanded the old man, his slender fingers stroked at his beard. His nails were long and sharp. “He must first be exiled from the graces of Mount Olympus. He must be stripped of his favored status. He must disgrace himself. He must incur the wrath of Zeus, the father of all gods and mortal heroes.”
“But how?”
“He must steal—for me—the winged steed, Pegasus.” Hades’ eyebrows rose up in an even more evil expression as he let out a guttural chuckle.
“Then he will be mine?” asked Cleopatra.
“In time. First Pegasus and then you may take your mortal with you and return to Egypt. Do with him as you will. He will surely make you either forget your Antonius or force Antonius to kill him so that you will be his. It matters not to me.”
“Thank you, Hades,” replied Cleopatra, bowing her head low.
“Incubus!” summoned Hades.
A fat, little, red creature with little horns and a pointy tail appeared from behind a rock. He was mumbling or chattering something sinister to himself, just low enough for Hades not to hear him. The sight of him made Cleopatra’s skin crawl.
“Take her to my chamber...and prepare her.” Hades chuckled again.
“Prepare me for what?” questioned Cleopatra.
“You must sacrifice something in order to get something,” he smiled wickedly, “and incubus—do not touch her.” Hades started a low chuckle, slowly getting more hysterical.
As the incubus led the Queen of the Nile out of the main chamber, Cleopatra could still hear Hades chuckling to himself, louder and louder. Soon his voice was echoing all around this underground world with such force that she had to place her hands over her ears to keep from going deaf.
* * * *
The white steed, Pegasus, was galloping around in a palatial courtyard. The courtyard was located high above the earth on Mount Olympus, fabled abode of the gods of the pantheon. Heracles [or as we shall call him, Hercules] was relaxing on a stone lounge, cushioned with the finest silks from the Orient. (He is best known as the mortal who had won immortality by performing the Twelve Labors of Eurystheus.) He was reviewing a tablet on the earthly events of the past week, so as to prepare his report to Zeus. Little did he know that lurking behind a pillar was an imp of mischievous invention.
Pegasus continued his daily exercise, alternating between galloping and flying, occasionally circling the courtyard five or six times before landing. After about 30‑minutes of this, he called out to Hercules.
“Herc, I could use some water, please.”
“What is wrong with the waters from the fountain?” he asked, leaning up on one arm to see the magnificent animal.
“It is not cold enough,” stated Pegasus, trotting over toward the man of steel, “would you mind?” he asked again nudging Hercules with his nose.
“And why do you not go yourself?” asked the jovial strong man.
“I have to watch Little Neptune,” Pegasus remarked, indicating his little son who was galloping around the far end of the courtyard. Little Neptune was a lovely crimson color.
“All right,” he chuckled, lifting himself up from the lounge, “but next time I need a ride down to the surface, I will not expect you to put up such a fight. You now owe me.”
“Deal,” nodded the steed. Hercules left the courtyard and headed toward the cool springs of Olympus that flowed directly from the clouds that drifted over the Arctic Circle.
The devilish imp that had been hiding behind the pillar, now transformed himself using his limited powers of black magic. Within a moment’s time, he had mutated himself into the form of a human—an exact likeness of Alexander the Great, King of Macedonia.
“Pegasus!” called out the false Alexander, “Help me, please!” His voice patterns were duplicated by the imp to the finest degree.
“How may I be of service,” bowed the regal steed.
“There is a desperate situation on the surface that requires my immediate attention. Would you be so kind as to transport me down there?”
“If you can wait just a few moments,” began Pegasus, “Hercules will return and he can watch Little Neptune while we are gone.”
“I really must get down there immediately,” pleaded the masqueraded incubus.
“I can watch your son for you, Pegasus,” smiled Athena, as she wandered into the courtyard. Athena was the daughter of Zeus, king of the gods.
“Thank you,” replied Pegasus, “all right, sire. Let us be off for the surface.”
Smiling, the impish impersonator hopped upon the back of the milky white steed and the two of them winged their way out of the courtyard and began their descent to the surface. Pegasus was completely unaware of the deception that had been played upon him.
Upon returning from the springs, Hercules found Athena lounging in the courtyard. She informed him of the sudden departure of Alexander the Great upon Pegasus. Hercules just shook his head.
“He sends me for Arctic waters and then flies off to the surface.”
“Well, things do come up,” smiled Athena.
“There goes my free ride,” he chuckled.
* * * *
Two days past, and Pegasus did not return. The twelve ruling Olympians summoned Alexander of Macedonia to Mount Olympus, to answer questions in regard to the whereabouts of the winged steed.
Through a crystal ball, deep within the depths of the earth, Hades carefully monitored the action on Mount Olympus. While rarely permitted to sit with his brother, Zeus, or attend any council functions, he watched gleefully as preparations were made for the questioning, and hopefully the exiling of Alexander the Great. If he could successfully sway a majority of the others to his cause, his plans would be complete.
Hades then changed the perspective of his crystal and glanced at the beautiful Cleopatra, who was still lying in his bed chamber, sound asleep. He then looked over at the regal steed that was now bound and tied up to a stone wall. He smiled and let out an evil chuckle, obviously pleased with himself.
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