Trial of the Muses

It was a quiet day on Olympus. The gods had just feasted and were content; Hera was not badgering Zeus over his latest affair, and the wielder of lightning bolts himself slumped in his golden throne, his eyes drooping near sleep. Hephaestus limped to Zeus and halted in front of him, his arms folded across his chest, waiting to be recognized. Zeus noticed Hephaestus and almost allowed himself to slide into sleep, but sat up instead.

"What do you wish?" he asked. Hephaestus was not a troublemaker among the gods, and Zeus doubted that the God of the Forge would disrupt the tranquility. Had it been Ares, Aphrodite or even the mischievous Hermes, Zeus would have chosen sleep.

"It is the Muses," Hephaestus replied.

"The Muses?"

"Yes, the Muses."

"Well, what about them?" Zeus was beginning to regret his decision.

"Their ceaseless singing, dancing, poetry, drama and what-not are causing problems. It's time that --"

"Have you lost your senses?" Zeus said angrily. "What would Olympus be like without them? Can you imagine a banquet without their songs and dances? I suppose you'll next say that Apollo should give up his lyre!" Zeus snorted in contempt. "Go back to your forge and bother me not with your madness."

Zeus' loud voice halted the chatter of the other gods, and they turned to watch.

"It is not of Olympus that I speak," Hephaestus said evenly. He of all the gods was the least intimidated by Zeus' anger. "My concern is with the mortals. I would be the last to banish the Muses' talents from Olympus, for that is where they should be, their gifts reserved for the gods. What need has man of them? His duty is to tend the fields and forges, fight the wars and sail the seas. If he fills his time with dance, drama, song and poetry, he may well forget his primary duties. And without tending the field and

forge, bearing arms and sailing the seas, he will degenerate into barbarism. There will be no sweet sacrifices and our temples will fall into ruin. The gifts of the Muses are better suited to the gods; there is no sense in giving man the idea that he himself is a god. No telling where that might end!"

Zeus stroked his beard in thought. "What you say is not entirely without foundation," he said finally. "Calliope!" he shouted, calling the chief of the Muses. "Come here."

The young woman, who was dining with the eight other Muses, hurried to obey.

"What say you?" Zeus asked, once she was before him. "Has the Master Smith spoken the truth?"

"No . . . I don't believe . . . I mean . . ." She was not accustomed to confronting one of the major deities. ". . . Mortals have used our gifts for as long as even the gods can remember. And there is no chaos. I don't . . . perhaps, Hephaestus has seen something that I have not . . . but I know of no evidence; as far as I know, the temples still stand and the sacrifices continue to be made."

Hephaestus snorted in contempt. "Today perhaps, but what about tomorrow? Man is arrogant beyond belief. Have we not seen this time and again? Look at Icarus; thought he could fly to the sun! I see men spending more and more time at song, dance and drama and less and less at the forges. It is just a matter of time before they abandon them all together for the delights of the Muses."

Calliope's eyes hardened for the first time. "I think you're exaggerating. What arrogance there is in man comes not from the arts but rather from the misuse of his power of reason -- a mistake not unknown among the gods. As for spending less time at the forge, so much the better; perhaps they will become more civilized."

A roar of laughter broke from the gods; Hephaestus looked startled and glared at Calliope.

Zeus suppressed a smile. "You have brought up a point worth discussing, Master Smith. I think this calls for a debate -- nay, something more formal: a trial . . . a trial of the Muses!" He laughed heartily.

"So be it," said Hephaestus, still glaring at Calliope. "When the evidence is arrayed, I'm sure that you will see my point."

Calliope swallowed nervously and bowed her head, regretting her angry response.

"You have both made your statements; I think your positions are clear. Call forth your witnesses. And each witness" -- he looked over the assemblage of deities -- "must truthfully answer all questions." He paused for a moment and then returned his attention to the two in front of him.

"You may go first, Hephaestus."

"I call Demeter," Hephaestus said without hesitation. The Goddess of the Harvest made her way to the foot of Zeus' throne where Hephaestus and Calliope waited.

"Tell me," Hephaestus said, "what would happen if men abandoned the fields?"

"They would starve."

"And would they worship us?"

"I find it hard to believe that they would worship anything if their bellies were empty."

"And if they are to spend all their time pursuing the gifts of the Muses?"

"Then they would have no time for planting. And if they did not plant, there would be no harvest."

Hephaestus nodded. "Thank you."

"Tell me," Calliope said, "is not singing and dancing a part of the great harvest festival?"

Demeter nodded. "Yes, it is."

"And has it not been since man first harvested?"

"Yes."

"So singing and dancing have not interfered with agriculture. If it had, man would have stopped farming long ago."

"That's true. But at the same time, there has been a greater emphasis on the festival of late at the expense of the harvest. If this tendency continues, there might very well be a problem."

Hephaestus glanced at Zeus and smiled

Calliope had no further questions and Demeter retired to her banquet table.

"I call Ares," Hephaestus said.

Ares strode to the throne and halted in front of Hephaestus.

"Does man need the gifts of the Muses for war?"

"Of course not. It is only in the epic poems that men sing in battle; in actual combat men groan, scream and cry."

"Therefore, you would say that by following the Muses, man might have a mistaken image of war?"

"Absolutely."

"And this might be detrimental to him?"

"Of course. The war of song, poem, drama and comedy is a false war. It might lead some, especially the young, to think that war can be taken lightly, so instead of training for the bloody fields, they will be thinking only of glory and heroism. Nothing could be worse."

"Why do you say that?" Calliope asked. "Is it not the very songs and poems glorifying war that give men the courage to take up the sword? What man would go willingly to war if he knew it to be nothing but pain and death? I submit that the gifts of myself and my sisters actually abet your bloody cause."

Ares laughed. "Nay, you hurt it by lulling man with dreams of glory. Instead of dreaming, he should be training for war. That is what gives him the confidence to wield the sword: training." Still laughing, he returned to his seat.

Hephaestus called Poseidon to testify concerning sailing and Hermes about Commerce. Both agreed with Hephaestus that the gifts of the Muses were potentially damaging to the trades that fell into their respective spheres.

"And whom do you wish to call?" Zeus asked Calliope, once Hephaestus indicated that he had no further witnesses.

"I call Dionysus," Calliope said.

"Right here!" Dionysus stood up, swaying. "I'll tell them a thing or two. Outta my way." He staggered forward, fell over the first table he encountered and remained lying on the floor, mumbling incoherently.

Hephaestus laughed. "I think he's made my point quite well."

Zeus smiled and looked at Calliope.

She stared at the base of Zeus' throne. "I'll go to my next witness, Clio."

Her sister Muse came forward timidly; Calliope smiled reassuringly at her.

"What is it that you have given man?" Calliope asked.

"History," Clio replied.

"History," Calliope repeated, "history. Lest you think that we Muses are concerned only with song and dance, think of this. We have given history and astronomy to man -- both important tools." Hephaestus smiled. "Important tools you say? Let me ask you this" -- he turned to Clio -- "what has history done for man?"

Clio glanced nervously at Calliope, who nodded. "Well, it aids man in conducting his affairs in a more orderly fashion. He is able to learn from his mistakes of the past as he makes his decisions in the present."

Hephaestus tilted back his head and laughed loudly. "Is that why there has been only one war? Is that why there has been only one foolish king? Surely you, of anyone on Olympus, must know better than that! History shows that the wrong path and the one most frequently taken are one and the same!"

Clio returned to her seat, her cheeks red and her eyes lowered.

"I call Aphrodite," Calliope said.

Hephaestus smiled as his wife made her way to the front.

"Is not song and dance an integral part of love?" Calliope asked.

"Most certainly!" the Goddess of Love replied. "Song and dance, as well as the love-poetry of Erato, turn the hearts of men and women. Without your gifts, love would be a sterile business."

"Thank you."

"My dear," Hephaestus said.

"Yes?" Aphrodite looked at him with a frown.

"I understand what you have so eloquently said, but let's examine what love really means to mortals." He paused and Aphrodite nodded. "When you get right down to it, it means producing children; that is the sole purpose of love."

"You would look at it that way, wouldn't you?"

Hephaestus grinned. "Remember we are talking about mortals; I'm not referring to the joys of love, but rather what is necessary for man. Is it not true that if there were no other reward for love than sexual

gratification, man would still indulge?"

"I suppose," she snapped. "Just like the beasts."

"Precisely. In order to reproduce, the gifts of the Muses are not strictly necessary."

Aphrodite turned abruptly and marched to her banquet table without replying.

"I think it is fairly clear," Hephaestus said, turning to Zeus, "that man has no need of the Muses; he could get along quite well working and reproducing without song, dance, poetry, drama or even history. In fact, it is just the opposite -- the Muses might only inhibit him."

"Perhaps you are speaking too soon," Zeus said, looking at Calliope. "Have you more witnesses?"

"Yes, one."

"And who is that?"

"Hector, son of Priam and hero of Troy."

A murmur of surprise went through the gods, and even Zeus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You call a mortal?" he asked.

"Yes, since we are discussing their fate, I thought it only just that one be allowed to speak."

"So be it. Hermes," Zeus shouted, "bring this mortal forth."

Hermes left immediately and returned with Hector. The hero glanced at the assembled gods; other than a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth, he gave no hint of emotion. Hermes led him to Zeus.

"Welcome, Hector."

"What is it that you wish?" Hector asked in a firm voice.

"This lady would like to ask you a question."

Hector turned to Calliope. "Some amongst us," she said, "feel that the gifts of the Muses should be for the gods and the gods alone. What do you think?"

Hector, his eyes unfocused, stared past the golden throne of Zeus for a moment. "It would be a grave error to withdraw those gifts from man."

"How so?" Hephaestus demanded. "What need does man have of these gifts?"

"We are but poor mortals," Hector replied. "We feel pain, cold, heat, sorrow, hunger. It is said that the gods have also felt hurt and sorrow. That may be, but" -- he looked around -- "I doubt that it is an everyday

occurrence here. For a mortal it is a way of life, and in addition we must die."

"All this is well known," Hephaestus said impatiently. "What does it have to do with the Muses?"

"It has to do with immortality."

"Immortality!" Hephaestus shouted. "Do you think that you are a god?"

Hector looked sadly at the Hephaestus. "No . . . no. In the fierce struggles before the walls of Troy, I could make no such mistake. No, we are not gods; nevertheless, we do crave something beyond the pain and the death -- a craving that such a company as this could never understand. Where you have the flame, we hunger for a mere spark" -- Hector paused for a moment and then continued in a soft voice -- "and we have the spark: the precious gifts of the Muses. Leave us pain and death if you will," his voice rose, "but do not take the only spark that we have, for then we will be as the beast. And what beast burns sacrifices and builds temples? How could man worship the immortal if there be no spark of it within him?"

There was a silence on Olympus as each of the gods stared at Hector. It was Zeus who finally spoke.

"You have spoken well, brave hero. Return to what is left of your life, and take with you the gift of the Muses; it is your birthright and that of all mortals."

Hector nodded and then turned and walked away. Although he strode resolutely beside Hermes and his head was held high, there was no look of triumph on his face.

Don Stockard's background includes growing up on a homestead and working as a commercial clam digger, a miner and a geophysicist. He spent ten years in school studying math and science at Carnegie Tech, Dartmouth and Caltech. He has also spent quite a bit of time bike touring in Europe, mountain climbing and sailing. Over the last four years he has accumulated over one hundred eighty credits, a hundred forty of which are short stories. Some recent publications are: Raskolnikovâ's Cellar "Dark Horse" Fall, 2001 Once Upon a World "Karmic Trap" Fall 2001 Armchair Aesthete "Frozen Monk" inter/Spring, 2001. In addition Softspin Press published a collection of his short stories in 1994.

Email: Don Stockard

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