Category: Posts

Santa and company

One figure who shows up on a regular basis every Christmas holiday season is of course Santa Claus.

This jolly rotund character with his bag of goodies is much beloved by small children but also detested by others, and not by just financially challenged parents.

Santa as we know him today took his latest iteration back in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Thomas Nast drew several images of Santa helping out the Union cause as a morale booster. His rendition of the old figure of Saint Nicholas was quickly seized upon by businesses booming from the Industrial Revolution, eager to sell their mass produced wares to a growing middle class which could afford them. Santa Claus as gift bringer was seemingly tailor made just for them. They’ve been running with it ever since.

But Santa Claus is based on a much older figure.

He went by a variety of different names: Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, depending on which country you look at. He was usually dressed in long green or red robes (though the picture above shows him in white) and in some countries was dressed as a bishop with miter and staff. He personified the spirit of Christmas with peace, revelry, good food and yes, gift giving though not to the demented level we see now.

The actual Saint Nicholas was a Greek Christian bishop of the 4th century, noted for his generosity to the poor. He was so highly venerated legends quickly attached to him after his death and his remains drew enough pilgrims so that during the Middle Ages rapacious Italian merchants filched his remains and built their own church in Bari Italy for housing them. The mania during that time for relics of any kind led to poor Saint Nicholas undergoing the indignity of having his bones divided up between several churches each determined to have a piece of the guy. His legend rapidly expanded, becoming very popular throughout Europe. In each country his stories were blended with fragments of older pagan beliefs and resulted in some peculiar iterations of the venerable Christian saint.

In parts of Europe, particularly Germany, Saint Nick would make visits distributing good cheer and small gifts. But he didn’t come alone. Accompanying him was a very sinister looking figure known as Krampus.

Krampus is the antithesis of Saint Nicholas. His focus is on naughty children. Nowadays youngsters are told if they are bad, they will either not get any presents or be gifted a nasty lump of coal. That’s actually a pretty wimpy threat. Krampus goes way further than that. If you were a naughty child, you could expect a visit from Krampus who would grab you, stuff you into his sack and haul you off to a ghastly fate, never to be seen again. Parents were evidently okay with their kids being traumatized with fear if it meant they would behave.

The Krampus figure can be found in various forms around Europe usually in association with mid-winter festivals clustered around the solstice. He usually follows Saint Nicholas about as he makes his rounds, though on occasion he appears on his own. Santa rewards the good little children while Krampus disposes of the bad ones. Krampus is often portrayed looking like a demon with horns, leering face and definitely bad teeth, as befits his role.

Perchten are sometimes very similar and are thought to be derived from the worship of Frau Perchta, a witch-like goddess, again making an appearance during the dark months of the year. They’re not usually associated with Santa Claus, having their own celebrations. Rather than being totally sinister like Krampus, these beings seem instead to be divided between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ perchten, perhaps representing the conflict between the light and dark portions of the year. Performers dressing up as perchtan wore a wild variety of costumes ranging from fantastically enormous headdresses to the more familiar masked demons.

In recent years there has been a surge of interest in both Krampus and Perchten, with the two often being confused because of their similarities. Clearly any attempts made by religious authorities, both Catholic and Protestant, to suppress any pagan remnants in European culture over the centuries were in vain as their modern manifestations are showing up alive and well, more and more in different celebrations attracting both tourists and locals. I can’t see the Covid epidemic suppressing this for very long. Along with the novelty of it all, there seems to be a hunger to turn away from empty consumerism and towards the revival of old pathways encapsulating both the brightness and the darkness of the season. Does this mean a decline any time soon in the mad, glitzy consumerism afflicting our times and a return to a simpler and more spiritual form of Santa and his companions embodying the Christmas season? Hard to say but I think once the worst is past, Krampus and his kin will likely resume trailing Saint Nicholas on his rounds for some time to come.

Perchten marching on the solstice
You better be good or these guys will getcha

What are gods?

While researching online for various divinities and ageless beings for populating the book I am writing, I have on occasion come across a peculiar delusion infesting odd corners here and there. Namely that ancient gods were actually aliens from other worlds. Never mind the fact that the stupendous distance between stars makes such voyages if not impossible at least very improbable, the idea that the beings our ancestors worshiped were material entities much like ourselves only more ‘advanced’ is a bit blasphemous. At the very least it’s ridiculous.

This probably all got its start in the mid-twentieth century when the old view of ancient gods being either demons or just non-existent had largely faded away. With the advent of high tech and clearer views of what lay beyond the earth, an idea of divinities being more concrete in origin began to surface. The original Star Trek series had an episode where the crew of the Enterprise encountered a being who called himself Apollo demanding that they worship him.

It turned out this being was in fact an alien with sophisticated technology which the intrepid Captain Kirk and his merry band of officers managed to overcome. Subsequent iterations of Star Trek had the same trope, with Deep Space Nine showing the gods that the Bajorians worshiped as actually being aliens living inside a wormhole.

A series of pot boiler books over the years has added fuel to the addled fire starting with Eric Von Daniken’s Chariots of the Gods then Zecharia Sitchin’s The Twelfth Planet and more recently with Graham Hancock’s works (which sound like thinly disguised rip-offs of Eric’s earlier writings). For some reason the pantheon of gods from old Mesopotamia, the Annunaki, have been singled out with a fair amount of rubbish written about them. Reading reviews of the above books gives me the strange feeling people don’t really know what a god is anymore.

Well, needless to say, this all just begs to get skewered. Since the god Marduk is one of the characters in The Age of Dionysus, I decided to write my own send-up of all this. The following scene opens with two characters, Zeke and Brian, both small time crooks, who re-encounter each other in a cafeteria run by Maenads as the Maenads have taken over part of Manhattan. Brian tries to explain to Zeke about Dionysus and the other gods and is met with a certain initial skepticism. Until…..

………………………………………………………………………….

As Zeke spoke, Brian could feel a faint vibration, as of heavy footsteps. Ripples began appearing in the coffee Zeke had set on the table. Zeke looked around baffled.

“Huh? Is that a pile driver or something?”

“Nope. It’s Marduk. He kowtows to Dionysus but He struts around like He’s the one in charge. Here He comes…”

Marduk barely fit through the doorway leading to the rear of the building even though it was big enough to drive a pick-up through. His head brushed the top of the door jamb. At least He had gotten rid of that stove-pipe shaped hat He had when Brian first saw Him. But He still wore the shawl-like robe, golden belt and sandals, apparently refusing to update His wardrobe. Brian could see Zeke out of the corner of his eye, his jaw nearly hitting the table. The skinny man gripped the table edge in white knuckled shock, his eyes bulging.

“Sweet baby Jesus.” whispered Zeke.

“Oh-oh.” said Brian stiffening. “Here comes trouble. He must have gotten past the Maenads at the door. See that fat little guy with the goatee?”

“Yeah, that’s the weirdo who handed me some dopey flier about a space alien conspiracy.” said Zeke. “I just threw it in the trash. I take it he’s not supposed to get in?”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now to stop him. He’s zeroing in on Marduk.”

The intruder, dressed in a blue serge suit just barely fitting him, clutched several books crammed with loose papers. Before anyone could stop him, he positioned himself directly in front of Marduk, Who halted and scowled at this impertinent mortal.

“Great Annunaki of the world of Shibru, it’s very important I discuss something with you.”

“Eh? What are you blathering about? What is Shibru?”

“Why – why the planet you come from.” replied the man, looking a little nonplussed.

“I come from here, you ignorant lump of mud.” growled Marduk.

“Oh, well, I mean I’m sure you were born here but your ancestors came from the planet Shibru.”

“Someone has put termites in your brain.” Marduk replied straightening until His head nearly brushed one of the ceiling fixtures. “I am a child of Mother Earth, just as you, unfortunately, are. My Mother is a water goddess and My Father Enki, Lord of the Waters. You are fortunate He has Transcended or He would be stamping you into the earth for mouthing such nonsense.”

“But – but – “ The man clearly had some sort of conspiracy script running in his head and Marduk wasn’t following it. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, pointing at the books he held. “Well, I understand that you Annunaki genetically engineered my ancestors to dig gold for you – “

“I do not know or care what you are talking about.” boomed Marduk, His voice making the walls vibrate. “You humans mine gold for yourselves because you think it’s valuable. Why should I care about or want it?” Suddenly He reached out and snatched the books from the man and began thumbing through them, loose papers falling to the floor as He turned pages. Apparently Marduk could read English because His face grew dark as a thundercloud.

“What is this madness? My brethren coming half a million years ago? Why We were all born after the glaciers melted, not before. And why would We need slaves?” Marduk threw the books on the floor and with a slight gesture materialized a huge club. It looked like it had been carved from a tree trunk and was topped with a soccer ball sized metal sphere bristling with spikes. He brandished it menacingly while pointing at the books. “Did you write this?”

“Oh – oh no, no!” stammered the man, his face ashen, finally grasping he was in danger. “It – it was written by a Mr Von Kovski. He – he said your people came in spaceships and – and built the pyramids -”

Marduk burst out laughing.

“The Egyptians themselves built the pyramids. We gods have no need for such structures and even if We did, We would not need slaves or anyone at all to build them. You humans are the ones who made them. Do you really think so little of yourselves that you believe you lack the wit or strength to make such things? If I ever meet this Mr. Von Kovski, I will crush his skull for uttering such blasphemies. Now away with you!” Marduk swept His massive hand, knocking the unfortunate man into some tables near Brian and Zeke, where he lay groaning. Marduk resumed walking and went out into the street, the outer door He passed through already looking as if He had been through it several times.

“Well, that ended a little better than I thought it would.” Said Brian, getting up to check on the man. The room had been dead silent during the exchange but now some of the Maenads began laughing in relief. One of them, a woman name Diane came over beside Brian.

“Somebody get a stretcher.” She called over her shoulder. “We probably better have Doctor Harris check this idiot out. I’m surprised Marduk didn’t kill him like He did that preacher.”

“Marduk must be in a good mood today. For Him that is.” replied Brian. He went back to sit down while the Maenads located a stretcher. Loading the dazed conspiracy theorist onto it, they hauled him off. The books and loose papers were swept up and tossed in a trash can. Zeke shook his head.

“Now I’ve seen everything. But what was that about a preacher?”

“Some bible-thumping fundie minister showed up a couple days ago. Apparently he thought all these gods are really demons so he was all set to do a rite of exorcism. Unfortunately he tried it on Marduk who just bashed him with that big club He’s got. That was the end of him.”

“I bet.” said Zeke. “Kind of an Old Testament type of god, huh?”

“Yeah, smite first and ask questions later.”

“Isn’t that Von Kovski guy dead now?” queried Zeke.

“Yeah, lucky him.” replied Brian, polishing off his coffee.

Ordinary life in the Age of Dionysus

Part of character development involves showing the daily lives of different individuals, revealing through their conduct what kind of people they are. Since daily life consists of ordinary tasks and unremarkable events when we first meet Alethia Kostopoulos, she seems perfectly ordinary, a widow who lives on the Greek island of Tzia. But we soon discover she is secretly a Maenad, a devotee of Dionysus. She believes herself to be the last one until Dionysus appears to her when she is in a trance state, revealing to her that not only is she not the last, she will be undertaking the task of training new Maenads for Him. A grandmother in her late seventies, she finds this a daunting task but devoted to her god, she willingly undertakes it. She journeys to America where her children and grandchildren live…..

It wasn’t until spring when finally with her passport in hand, Alethia passed through the Athens International airport, boarding the jet that whisked her away to a strange new land. The past months had crawled by, it seemed to her, but her son reassured her everything was going normally. Now it was finally happening. It was the first time she had ridden in a jet so she was dreadfully nervous. Peering out the window from her narrow cramped seat, her heart thumped at the sight of clouds beneath her rather than above.

New York City greeted her with a bewildering swirl of traffic, humans, incessant noise and acrid exhaust fumes. The only thing that made it bearable was being surrounded by her grown children and numerous grand-children who Alethia had only seen in photos or on Skype. As her oldest son drove the van crammed with her own offspring and theirs, her three youngest grandchildren, ranging from 8 years to 12 years excitedly pointed out landmarks to her. Trying to look up at the skyscrapers made her dizzy but she persisted, not wanting to appear as if she was overwhelmed by the scale of things compared with her tiny island home. The mad extravagance of it all amazed her. But it was the sad sight of beggars and homeless which brought home the corruption that underlay the mind boggling wealth that made this awesome city possible.

“Look, Yaya! Look!,” cried Hannah, the youngest. “That’s the Empire State Building! That’s the one King Kong climbed up.”

“Oh, don’t tell her that!” said ten year old Adrian scornfully. “She doesn’t watch movies.”

“I most certainly do.” replied Alethia crisply. “Your poor old Yaya isn’t so out of touch as all that! I know all about the silly movie about the giant monkey who carried the screaming lady to the top of the building. I saw that one when I wasn’t much older than you!”

Adrian sat back pouting. There seemed to be a game of one-upsmanship going on between him and his younger sister. Alethia smiled to herself. She had seen that game played many times by her own children at that age. Well, now it was her son’s turn to referee. She would just sit back and pretend to enjoy the tour her family were giving her. Inwardly she wondered how Dionysus planned on getting Maenads recruited. In the old days her aunt had told her they selected certain women and occasionally men and brought them to ceremonies where they drank the sacred wine to induce the trance state which allowed Dionysus to come to them. A mystical inner sense allowed them to determine who would be suitable. But it was a different world here and Dionysus was already here among mortals, though as yet He had not appeared to her.

“Mother, look!” said her second oldest child, Dionne. When her daughter was younger, Alethia had hopes she would be interested in becoming a Maenad. But she had never felt the inner push that would have shown her daughter was a candidate for initiation. Instead Dionne had gotten a business degree and now worked for a fashion agency. “That’s where I work.”

She looked at the building but saw only a decorative facade with an elegant canopy over the entrance. A tall slim dark-skinned woman chic in a handsome embroidered tunic and pants so tight Alethia wondered how the woman could bend over in them was just entering the building.

“Heavens!” She exclaimed in spite of herself. “Is that what young women wear these days?” Dionne laughed as Alethia went on. “Oh, I know I’m old fashioned. And I don’t know why I’m so surprised, especially with what some of the tourists who visited my island would wear.”

“Well, that is one of our models. We recruit men and women as models and train them. We represent them and get commissions by finding work with all kinds of fashion designers and advertising agencies. It’s a high pressure job but I’ve always enjoyed working there as an agent.”

As her daughter spoke, an idea began flickering in the back of Alethia’s mind. Even as a mortal in appearance, Dionysus would be an eye catcher. As a model, His picture would be everywhere, attracting anyone who might be a potential Maenad. She knew any god exuded a divine glamour. Would that show up in a photograph? He often appeared to her in dreams. She would have to try and remember to ask Him.

She stared wistfully at Central Park as they drove by it, fighting back a surge of homesickness. It would be nice to see something green once in a while.

“Do you have to pay to visit that park?”

“No, of course not, Yaya.” said Hannah. “You can go there any time. They have a merry-go-round and a zoo. In the winter, there’s a skating rink. Or you can just have a picnic. I like going there.”

“Well, I’m a little old to learn skating but a picnic sounds very nice.”

Well, once you’re settled in, we can arrange for one.” Said Dionne. “I’ll see if I can get everyone to come. That way we can have a big family get-together.”

The grandchildren squealed with delight at her words. Alethia smiled. They drove to her eldest son’s home on Long Island. She had only brought a small amount of luggage with her, not wanting to burden herself with too many possessions. Two suitcases of clothing, plus another with a few books and keepsakes were quickly taken inside. Both Hannah and Adrian jostled each other as they ushered her to her new bedroom.

“This used to be my room.” announced Adrian. “But now I have a new room in the addition we had built. Papa repainted this so it would make a guestroom but we decided it would make a good room for you.”

“We put in new curtains and rugs.” chimed in Hannah.

“I was going to tell her that.” shot back Adrian, heatedly, clearly annoyed over being robbed of his role as a tour guide.

“All right, you two.” said Lucas, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Let’s give your Ya-ya a chance to settle in, not just make her stand there listening to the pair of you arguing.”

He escorted the two pouting youngsters out, then returned to give his mother a hug.

“Were Dionne and I ever like that?”

“Constantly.” She laughed. “Your father was usually the peacemaker. You’ve taken over his role, I see.”

“They seem to mind me more than they do Kathy. Margaret’s still at soccer practice and won’t be home until supper. Do you want me to help you get your things put away?”

“No.” She replied sighing. “It’s all been a bit overwhelming and I think I’m feeling a little touch of that jet lag you told me about. I’ll wait until tomorrow to unpack.”

“Of course.” He replied, hugging her again. “You can come down and take your ease on the sofa while the children argue about how you should be entertained. Margaret’s been very anxious to meet you in person for the first time, instead of on Skype.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting all my grandchildren. Somehow seeing them only on a computer screen just isn’t the same.”

Supper was thankfully a low key affair after the exhausting day. Margaret dashed in just before they started eating, a slender dark haired girl just putting on her first teenage growth spurt. She proved to be more quiet in person than on Skype as her younger siblings easily out-talked her. Well, there would be time enough to get acquainted with her in the days to come.

The next day as Alethia sorted out the contents of her luggage, placing items on the bed, she was assisted by Margaret. Hannah and Adrian, the novelty of their grandmother’s arrival having worn off, were outside playing, giving their older sister a chance to shine. As the pair went through the various items in the suitcases, they chatted about Alethia’s homeland. Margaret, at thirteen already showed promise of great beauty, her dark eyes thoughtful, her generous mouth quick with a smile. She was eager for stories about her father as a child which delighted Alethia who had plenty to tell…….

Back Stories for Gods

Goddess Athena

Writing about characters who are gods includes noting something about their backgrounds. A problem which quickly crops up is that how the ancients viewed their divinities doesn’t really sit well with modern audiences. Zeus with His endless peccadillos and Hera (who’s His sister!) as the perpetually jealous spouse is one example. The late poet Robert Graves pointed out that one of the functions of myth is to justify an existing social system so the ancient myths say far more about the ancient Greeks than they do about the gods Themselves.

The simplest solution is of course rewrite the myths so they are more palatable for today’s readers (and make a little more sense). The tale of Semele, Dionysus’s mother, asking to see what Zeus’s true form was and getting fried as a result, with Dionysus subsequently being incubated in Zeus’s thigh has been changed to her dying in childbirth and Zeus’s son being given to Silenus to foster. The image of Athena popping full grown out of the head of Zeus after He swallowed Her mother Metis just to evade the prophecy of Her giving birth to a son that might overthrow him always seemed to have an element of the absurd about it. So I gave that a major rewrite in the following section from my book in progress.

……………………………..

They were known by many names; the Moirai, the Parcae, the Sudice, the Norns. They existed in a place that was not a place, in the Otherworld yet not of it. Seated on a great dais suspended in the Otherworld mists, looming even mightier than the primeval Titans, They sometimes had the appearance of males but the majority of the time They were female, either taking the form of young or old women. An colossal tapestry inched its way out from Their hands, colors both worldly and unworldly spun with inconceivable intricacy, stretching out into the amorphous distance, even beyond Athena’s ability to see. So They had been weaving even before the beginning of time. They drew out thread, wove, adjusted, rethreaded and snipped implacably, seldom speaking, never stopping. When She came into Their presence, They rarely acknowledged Her.

It was a conceit of humans that the Moirai governed every moment of each human’s life from birth to death. To a certain extent that was true but Their constant weaving and reweaving ensured the coherence of the ever shifting universe. Because of that, mortals could freely choose the course of their lives within the confines of the laws of the material realm. Events affecting both mortals and divinities went into the tapestry, creating a pattern so complex even Athena for all Her wisdom could not fathom it. In Her early efforts to probe the essence of the Fates work, She once had a vision of the mighty tapestry reaching out into the measureless distance, merging with other tapestries woven by other Fates forming a thread which still mightier Fates took and wove with yet other threads into vaster tapestries in Their turn.

She had begun a tapestry of Her own in the hopes of counteracting Her Brother’s actions. But She had to be careful it did not work to cross purposes to anything the Moirai were creating. Sometimes She could catch a brief glimpse of the underlying harmony contained withing Their weavings. It finally occurred to Her that anything She did would simply be incorporated into Their own work. Better to save Her worries for what Her half-Brother meant to do. But She couldn’t shake Her anxiety.

“I weave to derail His plans.” She said, more to Herself than the Moirai. “But I have to be careful not to counteract what You are doing. He’s so certain what He’s doing is right. He doesn’t understand that events work themselves out of their own accord. It doesn’t need to be pushed or manipulated. We only need to work with what happens.”

The Moirai continued Their work on the endless tapestry, seemingly oblivious to Her. But She suspected They were listening. Her Father said They heard everything. At one time He had stood where She did, attempting to consult Them. He had returned with a scowl on His face. Either They never answered Him or the answer was not to His liking.

But Zeus had gone ahead with His War against the Titans so many ages ago certain He was doing the right thing, Her Mother Metis pushed aside when She attempted counseling against it. The schism this created between Them never healed. Athena watched sadly as Her Mother quit Her throne and left Olympus eventually Transcending, leaving Her Helmet, Shield and Great Owl for Her Daughter. The chaos set off by the overthrow of the Titans and the ending of the Golden Age took several millennium to stabilize. Hera became new co-ruler of Olympus with Zeus but the peace of the Golden Age was gone, replaced by a brittle calm. It would not always remain this way. There were Great Cycles within Great Cycles. The ancient harmony of old would return but in its own time and way. Her Brother’s efforts to rush it based on the signs He was convinced were there would only prolong the Age of Iron, not end it.

“He won’t listen.” She said quietly. “I’m the voice of the past. He thinks His is the future. What can I do to ensure His failure?”

She hadn’t expected any response from the Moirai. But one of the veiled figures, Clotho, suddenly turned towards Her and threw a spool of thread to Her. Although startled, She caught the spool deftly.

“Use or do not use. It is Your choice.” It was Atropos the Unturning Who spoke. The enormous figure resumed Her snipping and re-threading. It was the first time Athena had heard more than two words from any of Them.

The thread was darker than night. The spool would have fit in the hand of a human but was so heavy a half dozen would have been needed to lift it. Athena shuddered when She looked at it. Thread this dark could only have one purpose. But the Moirai said it would be Her choice. With the constant morphing of the vast tapestry under Their hands, nothing was truly carved in stone. Did this mean She could still turn events? She felt a scowl not unlike Her Father’s beginning to furrow Her brow. She relaxed Her face. Her father had no doubt received a similar enigmatic answer which would have infuriated Him. He preferred certainty to ambiguity. But Athena was more comfortable with uncertainty. She tucked the spool into her pouch.

Do not use. That would be Her goal. Stubborn like Their Father, Dionysus would plow ahead. Her task was to stymie his actions with so many obstacles, His plans would fall apart. Turning, She left the place which was not a place, through the Otherworld, back to Her pavilion, where a great loom awaited. She had the warp threads strung. Now for the weft. She pulled yarn out of the great ball beside Her seat. After hesitating, She took out the spool of black thread and after looking at it a moment, set it down beside the ball of yarn. Just in case. She thought. Just in case.

……………………

The Character of Gods – Part 2

Several months ago I posted an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, introducing the character Xipe Totec, an Aztec god, who decides to go into the service of Dionysus in an effort to regain some of His former strength. Another divinity decides to ally Himself with Zeus’s son as well but with motivations that are decidedly more mixed than Xipe Totec.

The God Marduk

In the Age of Dionysus, Marduk is a genuine god, not some alien from another planet as some recent rather puerile books have tried to portray Him and His fellow Annunaki. As with Xipe Totec, Marduk has fallen on hard times and yearns to regain His former status.

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Marduk hunkered down in a ruined pile once a Babylonian temple dedicated to Him. He kept it hidden from nosy archaeologists with a simple glamour giving it the appearance of a nondescript rock pile infested with scorpions, vipers and other unpleasant vermin. There He recreated a small altar dedicated to Himself, decorated with a dragon image, and brooded over lost glory. He often took the form of a flickering lightning bolt, but when He physically manifested Himself in the ordinary world as He did now, He looked like a huge squat human, with a curly black beard and glowing embers for eyes. Dressed in a royal purple fringed shawl wrapped about His body and held in place with a golden belt, He could pretend He was still the mighty Lord some called Baal and others Moloch. But a quick glance outside His ruined temple always shattered that illusion.

The Golden Age had collapsed when Zeus and the Olympians broke the power of the primeval Titans. Marduk Himself came into being during the following chaotic times humans insisted was a Silver Age. He supposed it was for them as they learned large scale agriculture and husbandry replacing the simple hunting, gardening and gathering of more idyllic times, built small towns which began growing and became more centralized. The child of a minor water goddess, He took advantage of the humans increasing desire to have a powerful divinity which would overshadow others.

His brethren Annunaki, all Children of the Silver Age like Himself, had similar ambitions so a struggle ensued. Decade by decade, century by century, He clawed His way by sheer might to eminence, defeating any god or goddess who opposed Him. Not surprisingly humans copied the behavior of their divinities by engaging in warfare. This in turn increased the need for a potent god reflecting the humans’ perceptions of themselves. It was a role Marduk was happy to fill. He smiled broadly at His memories of the rise of the Bronze Age as human towns expanded into cities and populations boomed, fed by the rich bounty their crops yielded. The raids of conquest his followers conducted under His aegis brought in great wealth. Mighty temples had been raised to Him. Hymns sung to Him, stories composed about Him. Yes, that had been a good time.

But His mistake was forgetting about Zeus. The Olympians had seemed remote and disinterested, Their sacred mountain shifting in and out of the ordinary world in an almost whimsical manner. But Zeus must have had His eye on the up and coming rival growing to power in Babylonia. As Marduk’s worship began spreading around the Mediterranean, the wily Olympian finally made His move. It had caught Marduk by surprise. A vicious strain of smallpox broke out, spreading throughout the lands decimating populations, even penetrating the royal house of Egypt coupled with a time of prolonged drought bringing the additional scourges of famine and chaos. It didn’t take long for Marduk to realize this was the meddling of Zeus but while His own powers over the rain kept the drought from completely wiping out His worshipers, the work of a minute virus was beyond His ability to touch.

Marduk’s fury at the memories made His hands dig into the altar leaving imprints. At least He hadn’t been stupid enough to invest all His divine strength on the adulation of humans but still the sudden drop in population had been sufficient to break His power, reducing Him to a shadow of His former self. Zeus quickly moved Himself into position when human cities began rising again, blocking any effort by Marduk to regain His former glory. While His worship was rebuilt among the various tribes around the Twin Rivers, it never again achieved the unrivaled might He had know before. Zeus had simply become too powerful. All the erstwhile Storm Lord could do was wait. All things change but whether they would change in His favor was debatable. Even after the Olympians had moved permanently into the Otherworld, Marduk’s attempts to renew His worship were upended by the shocking rise of monotheism.

The ruins about Him suddenly shivered. An earthquake? He extended His senses searching for an epicenter. No, it was not a motion of the ground but rather of the mystic energy patterns which spread like an invisible web through the ordinary world. Some major shift was underway. Casting His vision further, the image of the Great Bull leapt into focus. It was not an astral image but a real physical manifestation. Dionysus! The son of Zeus! But what was He doing?

And how had He become so powerful? Marduk always remembered Him as a minor god, favoring intoxicating wines and ecstatic celebrations. He had gone into the Otherworld when Zeus had pulled up stakes and withdrawn from the mortal sphere in preparation for Transcendence. Now He was back? Marduk realized He had been spending too much time lurking in His self-imposed bitter isolation. Straightening, He strode out into the brilliant sunshine and began searching for one of the minor desert spirits inhabiting the area. A wandering goat herder spotting Him, threw himself to the ground terror-stricken, praying to Allah for protection from what was clearly a demon while his charges bleated in fright. Marduk ignored the mortal wretch as He walked.

Ages of cultivation combined with warfare left the surroundings a sorry hardscrabble mess. If He had still been in the fullness of His power, He could have done something to correct that but at the moment His capabilities were still too attenuated. After a brief search, He came across an ancient stone well. Peering down into it He could see the faint glimmer of water.

“Are You still there, little water-spirit?” He bellowed down the shaft. “Marduk would have speech with you!”

“Marduk the forgotten?” came the prompt reply. “Marduk the disregarded? I thought You Transcended long ago. Are you still gnawing on that altar You built for Yourself?”

“Enough!” growled the Storm Lord. “I can tell You’re not doing so well Yourself! I see the water table has dropped again.” He lifted His hand, electricity arcing finger to finger. “I’m not so feeble I couldn’t dry up Your fly-spot realm if You annoy Me too much.”

“Ah, once and future mighty Lord, that will not be necessary.” The water-spirit formed in the pool at the bottom of the cistern, a vaguely female form with snaky legs, Its voice becoming unctuous. “Pardon My rudeness. I quite forgot My manners. It’s been so long since any humans did ceremonies or even tossed in a coin for Me.”

“The monotheist lunatics would more likely fill Your well with stones and offal if they knew You were down there.” Chuckled Marduk. “They would ruin a perfectly good drinking source just to rid themselves of any reminder of their past.”

“Truly.” sighed the water-spirit. “So what brings You here? May I hazard a guess it is the Advent of Dionysus?”

“I want to know why a third-rate Son of Zeus has returned to the ordinary world and is revealing Himself! Does He really think He can take His father’s place?”

“Ah, You need to listen to gossip more. Dionysus made His appearance posing as a mortal over a year ago. His purpose, and He has made no secret of it, is to bring an end to the Age of Iron and inaugurate a new Golden Age.”

Marduk guffawed in derision.

“He’s been drinking too much of that sacramental wine He brews if He believes He can do that!”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Him if I were You. Our Son of Zeus is a sly one. He waited until the humans’ civilizations have begun quaking as their precious oil diminishes and the ravages they have committed on the land rebound on them to their detriment. The chaos sure to follow will be their undoing. All He needs to do is speed things up a bit. He has already acquired many followers among the humans, all madly devoted to Him. Have you bothered looking outside what’s left of Your domain to see how many humans there are now? They rival any locust swarm ever generated. Our Mother Earth groans under their combined weight! Is it any wonder the Lord Dionysus has grown so strong and will grow stronger yet?”

Marduk scowled as He listened to the water-spirit. He had noticed the extraordinary boom in population and wondered if He might make use of those numbers to rebuild His strength. But when He had tried posing as Jibra’il, an angel the local monotheists revered, His efforts had quickly and unexpectedly been slapped down by none other than Al-lat, the Desert Mother Herself. He had been stunned by the unexpected appearance of this latest aspect of Sekhmet and even more by the power She wielded. Humiliated and injured, He retreated to His ruined temple, nursing His wounds and stewing over yet another setback.

“What do the Others make of His rise?” Asked Marduk, the germ of an idea beginning to sprout in the back of His mind.

“Like You, They dismissed Him at first, though that has recently begun to change.” The water-spirit laughed. “They’ve been sitting around all this time like lazy slugs, waiting for the tidal wave of monotheism to recede. A few of Them have begun acquiring followers again but not many have made the active effort as Dionysus has done to build a power base. Now They must try and catch up! If They don’t hurry, Dionysus will become as powerful as His Father and it will take the Mother of all wars to topple Him.”

“I thank You for this, little water-spirit.”

He flicked His fingers and brought a gold coin into manifestation. He dropped it into the well and watched its inhabitant greedily snatch it up drawn by the energies of the metal. Turning He began walking back to His temple, His mind racing with possibilities. There had to be some way to turn all this to His advantage. The Others would no doubt ally Themselves, or try to, in order to oppose Dionysus. He might try offering Himself as a leader but He would likely find Himself contending with Those Who also craved power. No, He had a better idea.

………………………………….

To be continued…..