Menippus and the Witch Goddess
Part 4 of the Menippus Series
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Menippus felt as if Hecate had wrapped him in ice, even though he saw none. The chill penetrated his entire body, and he couldn’t move any of his limbs, no matter how he struggled against the witch goddess’s magic.
“I will take care of him,” Hecate told Charon. “You need not trouble yourself any longer.” The moonlight that radiated from her made the dark river below them sparkle, but Charon’s eyes didn’t reflect it all. They looked as dead as when Menippus had first seen the ancient god.
“My thanks,” said the ferryman, giving Menippus one last contemptuous glance. “The dead will panic if I do not soon return to take them across the river.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun the ferry around as if by magic and sped back to his dock.
Menippus wasn’t just paralyzed. His heart raced, and he couldn’t breathe. But, apparently not satisfied with that level of fear, Hecate displayed her power for him. Air swirled around her. Water splashed from nowhere. Rocks levitated from the ground. As he watched, the air and water formed a shield around her, even as the rocks appeared to become planets, giving the impression that every object in the heavens existed only to crown her. The moonlight that normally attended her formed a halo around her head.
It would have been tough to get away from Charon, but it would be impossible to get away from her. That must have been the point she was trying to make. But instead of just hauling him away to face his punishment, she picked that moment to get from him what information she could.
“I am curious,” said Hecate. “Mortals cannot simply become gods on their own. Before you face judgment, I must know how you achieved such a feat.”
Menippus felt his mouth unfreeze, but he was unwilling to speak. Since he appeared to be doomed, anyway, why betray Acheron?
“I can find out for myself, you know,” said Hecate, her voice sounding deceptively conversational. “I do not need you to tell me a thing. But your punishment might be marginally less severe if you cooperate.”
Hecate’s eyes gleamed like small stars, and Menippus found himself riveted by her gaze. Considering how much she knew about magic and the Underworld, she probably could figure everything out on her own. But perhaps, if Menippus told her most of the truth, she would seek no further, and Acheron wouldn’t have to face the consequences of helping him.
“I waited a long time for proper burial and became impatient. I tried swimming across the river. The water burned me all over. All I can think is that it somehow burned away my mortality.”
“You are descended from a god, then?” Hecate’s eyes still held him captive. He could not have looked away even if he desperately wanted to.
“So Hermes told me. I think it must have been many generations ago, but I am a descendant of Eros.”
“Hmmm…” said Hecate, her gaze becoming even more intense. “Yes, you have within you a little of the power of love. But you would not look as you do if that were all you had. You have absorbed something from the river, which explains your ability to swim in it unharmed. But I sense about you also have power from both sun and earth—forces you share in common with Acheron.”
“He helped me,” Menippus said as quickly as he could. He needed to frame the story in a way that would do the least harm to the river god. “I don’t know why, but he exerted himself to keep me from being lost. That must be the reason that you sense his power at work in me.”
Hecate stared at him for a moment. “That may be true—but it is not the whole truth. The red glow of your eyes suggests that Acheron’s power is within you. Yet I think he gave you more than that. His hatred of the gods, perhaps.”
Menippus tried to move, but his body remained immobile as if he were grasped by a giant, icy hand.
“If so, I do not remember it,” lied Menippus.
Hecate had been smiling, but her smile faded as moonlight disappears behind heavy cloud cover. “Acheron has tried this sort of nonsense before, you know. But even though you are a god now, you would make a poor instrument for his revenge. You could not challenge the power of Charon or me. How much of a threat do you imagine you could possibly pose to Zeus, let alone to all of the gods combined?
“The sad thing is that Acheron knows that perfectly well. He is eager to sacrifice you just to inconvenience the gods in some minor way. Since he values you so little, why should you protect him?”
“My motive is not protecting Acheron. It is love,” said Menippus. That wasn’t a lie—at least, not completely. If he were lucky, he just might
“Love?” asked Hecate, raising an eyebrow. “How did you intend to find love in the Underworld? Even the dead will be frightened by your new appearance. And such goddesses as you can find here would not be inclined to love you, either.”
“I love Empusa,” said Menippus. There wasn’t much point in lying about that.
Hecate laughed, though the sound lacked warmth or humor.
“That which is born in the Underworld cannot love,” said Hecate. “The best Empusa can do is pretend, and she has no reason to do that with you, for you are not suitable prey. You might as well want the sun to freeze you or the moon to boil you. The universe will not reorder itself to suit you.”
The witch goddess studied him for a moment, and her eyes widened.
“Ah, I see your plan now. You were swimming off to find primal Eros in hopes that he would help you. But he is impossible to reach. His power radiates throughout the universe, but his only presence that you could address directly lies deep within the Cave of Night, who is his mother, himself, and his daughter, all at once. You will never gain admittance to the cave. Not even the gods may do so.”
“Have you ever tried?” asked Menippus.
“It is not for you to question me!” said Hecate, her voice suddenly harsh. But in her eyes, he read the truth—she had never put the the idea to the test.
“Do you think I am evil enough to end up in Tartarus?” asked Menippus—a risky move, considering that Hecate had just told him not to question her. But he drew courage from the fact that he was probably doomed, no matter what.
“Tartarus is for those who are both threatening and powerful, like Cronus and the other titans,” said Hecate. “It is not clear how threatening you are—but you are certainly not that powerful.”
“But isn’t it true that the Place of Punishment in the Underworld is for human sinners?”
“That it is. But are you suggesting you should have no punishment for becoming a god without permission?”
“I would never be foolish enough to suggest that,” replied Menippus. “But I would suggest that my punishment fit my crime. My hubris allowed me to believe that I should be a god, that I could achieve whatever I wanted. But now you have told me I will never be able to enter the Cave of Night. Why not take me there and prove to me that I am wrong. Then you can condemn me to languish forever outside the Cave of Night, unable to enter the one place that might enable me to achieve my desires?”
Menippus might have been the first person in centuries to leave Hecate at a loss for words, but she only stayed that way for a moment.
“That would be suitable,” said the goddess. “But I will need to bind you there with magic. Otherwise, you will just wander off when you realize your quest is hopeless.”
“I thank you for your justice and happily accept the restraint that you propose,” I said.
“Come then,” said Hecate. “Take my hand.”
Menippus felt the icy grip relax around him, freeing his limbs. He took Hecate’s hand without hesitation. Together they flew down the course of the Acheron to the point where Styx split off. Then they followed the winding course of the Styx until they reached an area that was both more and less gloomy than the other parts of the Underworld that he had seen.
“This place…confuses me,” Menippus said.
“It is the home to many beings ancient, powerful, and difficult to comprehend,” said Hecate. “Here you may find the abodes of Death, of Sleep, of Dreams—and probably of some creatures of which you have never heard. But you will never meet any of them, for you will be trapped outside the Cave of Night forever.”
Holding onto to Menippus’s hand as if he were a child, Hecate led him through alternating mists and shadows that stretched out so far that the former scholar would surely have lost his way without a guide. Finally, they came to a large cave with an interior so black that even Hecate’s moonbeams didn’t penetrate its pure darkness.
“This is the place,” said the goddess, as if there could have been any doubt. “Try to enter the cave. I have other matters to which I must attend.”
Hecate let go of Menippus’s hand, and he walked toward the abyss before him shakily. He had been the one to suggest this course of action, but what if he were wrong?
He got all the way to the cave mouth before an invisible force blocked his way. He struggled as hard as he could, but whatever magic blocked his way didn’t yield to him
“It is as I have said.” Hecate’s voice was close behind him. “Pick the spot where you would like to stand for all eternity.”
“Wait!” said Menippus. “For there is one thing I haven’t tried.”
He fell to his knees and bowed his head. “Night, gentle mother, first prophet, second ruler of the universe, I beg you to hear me. You who see all who are in darkness, see me. Know me as one who is connected to Eros, the light bringer, who is your father, yourself, and your child, all at once.”
Menippus had never heard the last part while he lived. He had picked it up from Hecate, but in this strange place where reality seemed so much more flexible than he had ever imagined, the idea made sense to him.
“Goddess, I come to speak to Eros on a matter of great urgency. I beseech you to let me enter your cave, that I may speak to him.”
Hecate snorted behind him, but from the Cave of Night, he heard nothing. If the goddess had heard him, she had chosen to disregard him.
The former scholar rose from his knees and turned toward Hecate.
“I will stand here forever. Perhaps at some point far in the future, Night will answer my prayer.”
Hecate had the smile of the victor on her lips. She raised her hands to bind Menippus to the spot, but a moment before she could call upon her magic, a distant voice came from the cave’s mouth.
“Enter.”
Hecate’s smile faded, and she lowered her hands. Her face looked strained, as if she were exerting every ounce of willpower she had to avoid betraying her surprise.
“Well, hurry along,” she said to Menippus, waving toward the cave. “You do not want to keep Eros and Night waiting.”
Menippus walked into the cave mouth as quickly as he could. He was surprised to hear Hecate’s footsteps behind him. After all, the goddess had learned powerful magic through her stay in the Underworld. What might she learn from the cave that even she had never visited before?
Menippus thought the cave became much wider as he walked, but it was hard to tell. The space was utterly dark, though his newly divine eyes made it seem as if it were dimly lit.
He walked for a long time. Hecate continued to walk behind him but did not speak. Perhaps, she was afraid of being proved wrong again.
Had it been a day already? Menippus had lost all track of time. Maybe Time lived nearby as well. Or maybe there was no time in this place. Nothing in his philosophical training had even remotely prepared him for this experience.
He sensed Night before he saw her. But perhaps saw was the wrong word. No mortal could have seen anything. But somehow, Menippus perceived the elder deity who floated before him in the dark void. Probably for his benefit, stars began to twinkle around her, and he saw that she was beautiful.
“I don’t know how men could ever fear the dark,” he said, almost immediately regretting his hasty words. Would the goddess take offense? No, she didn’t. If anything, she smiled slightly.
“Welcome,” said Night, her voice like the whispering wind. “Welcome, Menippus and Hecate, to my cave. Inside, you will find Eros, Love himself.”
“Beware!” said Hecate, somewhat less awed by Night than Menippus was. “This one has been poisoned by Acheron. I fear he comes with evil in his heart.”
Night’s smile could have been genuine or mocking. It was hard to tell.
“Daughter, did you think that I, upon whom Eros bestowed the gift of prophecy when the universe was young, could somehow miss Menippus’s nature? He is capable of great evil, but also of great good. I would risk the former to gain the latter. His current situation was not fated to be. Such anomalies can be disasters—or opportunities.”
“Mother, your wisdom is great,” said Hecate. “Zeus himself has sought your advice. Yet you can be wrong. Why did you pass the scepter to Uranus? He became a tyrant as a result.”
Menippus’s heart beat faster. Hecate was powerful, but was she as powerful as Night herself? Why was the witch goddess trying to pick a fight with her?
Night continued to smile as if Hecate had not just challenged her. “I would have passed the scepter to Gaia, but she would not take it, being at the time much more interested in nurturing her innumerable children. Thus it has always been with Earth and always will be.
“I foresaw the tyranny of Uranus, of course, for how could Night, which darkens Sky at the end of every day, not have a good idea of what Sky was capable of? But it was my time to pass the scepter. And my prophetic gift revealed to me that his tyranny would be short-lived, that it would lead to something better.”
“May I see Eros now?” asked Menippus. He was more than a little worried that Hecate would preoccupy Night, accidentally or on purpose, and keep him from fulfilling his quest.
“Of course,” said Night. “Even now, you can see him approach, for he feels your kinship.”
Menippus saw a tiny point of golden light in the distance. In seconds, it flashed in their direction, fast as a comet.
Eros was blindingly brilliant, so much so that Menippus had a hard time looking at him, even with a god’s eyes. The golden light from Eros’s wings made his skin seem golden as well. Yet the darkness of Night remained present all around him.
“How…how can light and darkness coexist in this way?” asked Menippus, returned for just a moment to his earlier scholarly pursuits.
“They have always coexisted,” said Eros, his words more like song than speech. The tone reminded him of the musica universalis—the music of the spheres—that Pythagoras had thought the sun, moon, and planets created as they moved through space.
“In truth, one cannot exist without the other,” Eros continued. “Night created the egg from which I hatched, but she was also within it, part of me and yet my sister and my bride, all at the same time.”
For the first time, Menippus understood why the genealogies of the gods varied so much from one writer to another. They didn’t have any kind of logic to them. Or perhaps the logic was simply too complex for him.
“I am given credit for creating all of the universe that came after me,” said Eros. “But in fact, it was the complex union between Night and me—between darkness and light—that powered the creative act.” He looked at Menippus with his golden eyes, making the former scholar feel light-headed.
“Men always underestimate the importance of women in the creative process,” said Hecate, clearly not as awed by Eros as Menippus was.
“Indeed,” said Eros. Turning back to Menippus, he added, “As you have suffered so much to come here, we will show you a little of how it was at the beginning.”
Without realizing what he was doing, Menippus stopped breathing at the sight of Eros and Night dancing, darkness and light intermingling. Sometimes, it even seemed as if Eros was dark and Night was light.
The display ended with such speed that Menippus gasped. He wanted more. He had to see more. He shuddered, wondering how he could live knowing that he would never see such a thing again.
For once, Hecate shared his reaction. “I have seen much—but I have never before seen that.”
“I am sorry we cannot complete the act,” said Eros. “But that must not happen until it is time to create another universe. Otherwise, we risk destroying what we have already built.”
Menippus fell to his knees.
“Eros, creator, light bringer, I beg of you to help me win my love.”
“That is more the role my younger namesake plays,” replied Eros. “I deal more with worlds than with individual people.”
“Please,” said Menippus. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He hadn’t even been sure he could cry in his new form.
“I did not say I wouldn’t do it,” said Eros. “But hear my words. Accomplishing what you want requires that I grant you power you may not be prepared to use.”
“Should you accept Eros’s gift and then use it for evil, the result could be catastrophic,” said Night, though her voice was as calm as Eros’s.
“Then why take such a risk?” asked Hecate, who was nothing if not gutsy.
“Because love always involves taking chances,” said Eros. “Menippus, know that you could destroy yourself as easily as you could harm others. Are you willing to accept the risk?”
“I am,” replied Menippus without hesitation. Part of him worried that Eros’s offer was too good to be true, though. Surely, there had to be more of a catch.
Eros raised a hand, and Menippus felt power blossom within him.
Not too long ago, the former scholar had been a man. Then he became a minor god. Now, he felt like a major god. The ichor in his veins was pure fire. Surely, he could charm Empusa while in such an elevated state.
With what felt like the power to create a new world flaring in his chest like a small sun, he was only dimly aware of his dark-robed, shadowy form being transformed into something that looked much more like Eros. He even had golden wings sprouting from his back.
But the desire for vengeance Acheron had planted in Menippus felt the new power within him and reached for it greedily.
Too late, Menippus realized just how strong that part of him, biding its time up to now, really was. His wings and robe turned black. His heart felt as if it was being ripped in two. He screamed and was nearly deafened by his own echo.
For a second, he had been a messenger of love. But how rapidly he had turned into am instrument of revenge instead! He had to get control of himself quickly, before it was too late.
Eros and Night watched him impassively. He opened his mouth to ask for help but couldn’t. The spirit of vengeance within him choked off his words.
He looked at Hecate, and she stared back at him with a wild look in her eyes.
The triple goddess, favored by Zeus, with power in heaven, on earth, and in the sea, trembled at the sight of him. Turning to Night and Eros, she whispered hoarsely, “What have you done?”
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