The Heart of War (75 page)

2

Ares stood on the beach impatiently awaiting the entrance of his bride with some of his Family members gathered around him. To his surprise, only Zeus and Apollo decided to sit out the wedding. All of the rest of his Family attended along with Daphne, her Nymphs, and the Faeries decided to come and witness the ceremony before they returned to their lands.

Standing in the sand in bare feet, Ares watched as the sun sunk lower in the sky filling it with brilliant reds, oranges and purples as far as the eye could see.  Next to him was a small table upon which sat a long strand of white silk and a silver chalice full of what smelled like mead.  It took the God of War quite a while to decide what he was going to wear to his own wedding.  Should he go modern with one of the suits or even one of the tuxedos he owned.  Should he go more traditional and wear his dress armor.  Looking at the items on the table and his surroundings Ares decided he was happy with his choice of attire.

Suddenly, quiet string music began to fill the coming night air.  Terpsichore, Muse of Dance, had begun plucking her lyre and everyone’s eyes turned in her direction.  Ares felt his breath hitch in his chest as his heart stopped when Alena came into his view.  Barefoot as usual, she was standing several yards away from him dressed in an emerald toga that dragged the ground behind her.  It was embroidered with gold stitching in the patterns of doves, roses with thorns and without, and staffs.  A wreath of olive leaves sat upon her head dotted with red roses, her beautiful silver-gray hair piled high atop her head and hanging down in soft ringlets about her face.  In her hands she held a simple bouquet of white roses.  She smiled shyly as she made her way to him.  Ares felt his eyes light up just as the breath returned to his lungs and the color rushed into his cheeks.

All eyes were upon her and Alena felt the weight of each stare as she walked past them and up to the handsome man waiting for her.  “I hope this is all right,” she whispered to Ares as she took her place.

“You honor me,” Ares returned, taking in the dress and feeling a surge of pride.

“No more than you do me,” Alena whispered, taking in the way Ares was dressed.  “It’s a new color for you, isn’t it?”  Ares cast aside his armor and his embattlements for the day along with his customary black leather.  As the sunset behind him, he stood there with his own bare feet, a rather form-fitting pair of white linen pants and a matching shirt.

“You don’t like it?”  Oh well, she did not say that.  The contrast of the white materials against his dark olive skin was very appealing.  Much like the exotic sight of his hands on her bare skin.  Out of instinct or desire she had no idea, but Alena suddenly rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Ares held up his hand to block her.  “Uh-uh, you have to wait.”

Then she didn’t want to wait long.  Putting the bouquet of roses down on the table, Alena picked up the strand of white silk and began to loop one end around Ares’ wrist.  “Who are you?  What is your name?”

“I am Ares. Son of Hera and Zeus,” he announced in a booming voice.  While he’d never been married, Ares had been to a few thousand weddings in his time and he was certain of what was about to happen and of the type of ceremony which would satisfy Alena.

The looping done, Alena waited for Ares to pick up the other end of the string and repeat the same to her. “Who are you? What is your name?” Ares asked as he began winding the silk around her small wrist.

Standing a few feet away from them, Hera was so happy she began to cry.  Aphrodite leaned against Eros’ shoulder and he put his arm around her waist as they watched Ares confess his love for Alena.  Onya and the other women wept quietly with happiness.  Ares approached them before the ceremony and told them they had a choice; they could go to Olympus to live with him and Alena, they could stay here on the island and live out their days where he would provide for them and he and Alena were sure to spend extended visits, or he could set them free.  He would take them wherever they wanted to go and give them each more than enough money to live comfortable lives in return for the promise of their everlasting silence.  Three opted to leave and three opted to live on Olympus: Onya, Arianna, and Iris.  Ares considered it a fair deal and liked the idea of Alena having women around her who cared for her, who would support her and be her confidantes.  Life on Olympus was not going to be easy but their company would help.

With his future secured and now within the palm of his large hand, in a very clear and resounding voice Ares vowed to never harm her but, instead, to always protect her, to love her, hold her sacred, to comfort her when she was afraid, to celebrate the joys of life with her, and never let anyone come between them.  “These are the things I swear to you.”  Unwrapping the silk around her wrist and taking the necklace out of his pocket, he held it up and she leaned forward to receive it as he clasped it around her neck, then Alena made the same promises to him before unbinding Ares’ wrist.

Now they would each drink from the cup and they would be married, but when Ares reached for it Alena put her hand over it to stop him and picked up her flowers.  Holding the bouquet with one hand she worked at the stems with the other until something slipped off them and the flowers spread apart.  With much uncertainty, she held out her father’s ring to him. “Would you consider wearing this, my Husband?  Would you let it always remind you of how my love surrounds you, no matter where you are…or what you do?”

Alena was being very diplomatic about this, but the truth was, she wanted to mark her man.  Wanted him to wear a symbol that would let all other women know that he was taken and to keep their hands off him.  She was afraid it would insult or anger him, which was why she was so coy about it, but even that only served to fill Ares with more pride as he held his hand out to her and slipped the tip of his finger into the ring, allowing her to slide it the rest of the way down his finger.  “You honor me again. I’ll never take it off.”  He looked down at the chalice.  “Now?”

“Now.”

Ares picked it up with his unbound hand and took a drink from the sweet mead within before he handed it to Alena, who also took a long drink and then handed it back.  The God of War pitched the silver chalice over his shoulder as he stooped down and swooped Alena up in his arms to plant a long kiss on her lips just as the last rays of day fell beyond the horizon.  In a moment of great joy, the God of War lifted his new bride high into the air to seat her upon his shoulder.  “My Wife, My Queen,” he announced to all gathered around. “No one is above her.”

All around began to clap but it wasn’t applause.  Soon a beat formed and Ares began to dance with Alena on his shoulder.  With his hands up, he held them to his shoulder and grasped each of Alena’s hands, holding them out wide.  He crossed one foot in front of the other and made an arch in the sand with his toes before doing the same with the other foot, each time bending deeply on one knee.  He turned around slowly and did again; a resounding chorus of
"umpah!"
received them.

“I thought you said you weren’t Greek,” Alena whispered as she held on to him.

“I also said we’ve absorbed a lot of the culture,” Ares returned as he continued his dance and she laughed, feeling happy, safe and secure, as she perched on his shoulder some seven feet from the sand below.

3

The new bride and groom did not stay long at the reception held in their honor.  Ares had other plans; he was taking her away from this island and this entire area of the world for a while.  Taking her to some place where the sun had yet to set and looking forward to a long proper honeymoon—if she were in the mood to oblige him, that was.  Although she glowed at his side and beamed up at him with much love, Ares still wondered how long his wait was going to be and how well he would suffer through it.  Dressed in modern street clothes, him in jeans and a light sweater and her in blue jeans for the first time in ages, they disappeared from Ares’ beach only to appear on another shore. 

Yes, it was Boston Harbor and it had changed a lot since the last time he was here, which had been during the American Civil War.  Ares didn’t get to the United States very much; whenever he ventured off his island he preferred the Middle East—so easy to just say a few wrong words over there and get things boiling.  He liked South America, another place where people were easily riled.  Americans were a strange lot, quick to anger but not necessarily to react outside of bickering with themselves.  He did spend a good deal of time in the American West after the Civil War.  That was great fun and he’d had a grand time as he found an appreciation for smaller battles such as the OK Corral.  Gunslingers were quick tempered and easily pitted against each other for amusement.

The last time he’d been here in Boston, small wooden structures dotted the shore while great wooden ships with billowing sails or steam engines came and went from the harbor.  Now mighty skyscrapers rose high into the blue sky as they reflected the sunlight from above and the water below off a million windows, sending bright streams of light dancing in the air.  The boats making their way along the river were made of steel, most of them without sails, and some large enough to be considered floating cities.  “I thought we’d start our life together with you showing me more of yours,” Ares suggested.  “I think you’ve seen enough of mine for a while.”

“It’s mine, too,” Alena reminded him and then turned back to the water and the city beyond.  A few weeks ago, if she’d suddenly found herself standing here out of the blue she would have cried out that she was home!  Standing here now with him, Alena realized it really was true; anywhere Ares was that was her home and this place was a lovely memory.  One that she could come and visit whenever she wanted.  Unlike Olympus and the island, Boston was bustling with life; boats were coming and going from the harbor, ringing their bells as the foghorn blew off in the distance.  Cars whizzed over the bridge and even from here she could hear the faint sounds of music coming from some café.  After the places she had been lately, this seemed like another world.  “Did you bring any money?”

“Did I…of course I brought money.  American dollars.”

“Good, let’s go to Quincy Market.  I’m hungry and, well, I haven’t gone shopping in a decade.”

Ares frowned and let out a sigh.  “I think Quincy Market,” whatever that was, it couldn’t possibly be the same Quincy Market as when he was last here, “will have to wait for tomorrow.  We have some place to be.”  Between his fingers appeared two tickets with a very familiar symbol on them.  “Bought and paid for,” Ares assured as he held them in front of her, watching her eyes go up and down with the logo of two crossed red socks.  “Something called box seats.”

“Box…” Alena plucked them out of his hand and looked at the seating.  Right in front of the first base line.  They looked authentic to her.  “How did you get these?  Where did you get these?”  According to the tickets the game, against the New York Yankees no less, was scheduled to begin at noon.  “What time is it?”

Happy that he could make her face light up so brightly, Ares chuckled all the way to Fenway Park, where he enjoyed several beers and hot dogs.  Popcorn was tasty but it got stuck between his teeth and he did not like that.  The crowd was exhilarating, their exuberance was highly infectious, and even though he didn’t have much of an idea as to what was actually going on in the beginning, he was quickly swept up by the game.  So did Alena.

“YOU SUCK!”  she yelled to team currently in front of them wearing jerseys that read ‘Yankees’.  “GO HOME!”

“That was a little rude, don’t you think?” Ares asked as he finished off the last of his second dog.  Hardly had he ever heard her say a bad word about anyone, let alone unprovoked.

“You’re supposed to do that, it’s a psych-out.  You should understand that concept.”  The batter hit the ball…crack!  Alena stood up in mid-sentence.  “BUTTERFINGERS!” she yelled as she cupped her hands to her mouth. “YOU CAN’T CATCH!  MISS IT!  MISS IT!  YOU STINK!”  The ball slipped right over the top of the fielder’s glove and he went chasing after it while the batter made it to second base.  With the rest of the crowd Alena held up her fist and gave a great cheer as she protruded her index finger in the universal We’re-Number-One gesture.  “Besides, it feels good.  You try.”  Touching his arm just before Ares opened his mouth she added, “Don’t be too mean.”

“I’ll just keep watching you.”  And he did for the whole game.  Alena loved what she called ‘the crack of the bat’ and each time one of the Red Sox players got up and hit the ball, she jumped to her feet and cheered…along with the few thousand other people in the park.  When the ball went over the wall, something Alena called The Green Monster, though it didn’t seem very threatening to Ares, the crowd broke out in a strange chant;
Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey, hey, hey…good bye
.  It wasn’t like any chant he had ever heard before.  During something called the Seventh Inning Stretch, someone started playing an organ and the whole crowd stood up, linked arms and sang a tune. Alena sang along and said it was “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”