Stone Blind(53)

Artemis voted the same way as her brother, of course she did. The two are almost inseparable on Olympus, but when they are separated here, she roams the mountains of Boeotia with her women and her pack of wild deer. Do you know what deer like to eat? Leaves. So, obviously she was on our side.

Ares went for the sea. Why? I’ll tell you why: we are sacrosanct in war. Do you hear that? We are so precious, so irreplaceable, that when an army invades, they burn the crops. They cut down men like so many stalks of wheat. But they do not touch the olives, because we are too beautiful and perfect. So of course the war god resents us. Pathetic.

Hephaestus voted for us, a hopeful expression on his face as he moved towards Athene. She turned away from him, and stepped back.

Hera went for the sea, out of spite for Athene. Why change now? Hephaestus was suddenly filled with anxiety that he had done the wrong thing. But he couldn’t change his vote.

Hestia voted for Poseidon. We couldn’t prove it, but I don’t think there has ever been a clearer example of someone failing to understand the question. Our wood burns even when it is wet. What more could the goddess of the hearth require?

Zeus voted for Athene because he loved her more than Poseidon, because she was his daughter and she complained less. And also because we were clearly better.

Hermes saw that he could make it a draw, if he took Poseidon’s side. So he did, because he is a petty god whom no one likes.

Zeus realized that his strategy had failed, and sighed. He waved his hand and suddenly there was one more figure standing on the hillside, by our beautiful trunk. This man didn’t introduce himself, but we already knew who he was: Erichthonius, the first of the true Athenians. The child spawned by Hephaestus and nurtured by Gaia. The one Athene brought here in a basket to be raised by the daughters of Cecrops.

Don’t say you’ve forgotten him already. I’m sure it is very confusing when someone is a baby one moment and a grown man the next, but you must have understood by now that the gods don’t feel time the same way you do. To them a life takes no longer than drawing a breath does to you. So some years had passed, and none of the gods had thought about him, and now he was a man.

The stories you may have heard about him were (largely) untrue, by the way. He didn’t have a snake’s tail, like people said. That was just the rumour that reached across the city when the daughters of Cecrops died so suddenly. Some said the basket they had so unwisely opened was full of snakes (which was half-true). Some thought the child himself was a hybrid of man and snake (which was not true). Some said he was cursed (obviously wrong), some that he was divine (half-right). But everyone believed he was protected by Athene, and that she had sent snakes to destroy the girls who had disobeyed her. And so the Athenians admired and feared him in equal measure, and when he overthrew the previous ruler, they made him their king. And they felt a little closer to his guardian goddess and wondered if she might also become theirs.

Did Zeus know this, when he summoned Erichthonius to the sacred hill to be his judge? Of course he did: Zeus knows whatever he chooses to know. And he wanted his daughter to be happy, or at least happy enough never to discuss this again. Poseidon would soon be carping about something else, so there was no gain for Zeus in trying to please him now. Or ever. Whereas Athene would be grateful to him for this intervention, or something approaching grateful. Besides, he had already voted for her trees and he saw no reason to be on the losing side in this battle. The other gods should have followed his lead.

Erichthonius was a small, neat man who – Zeus imagined – made a perfectly adequate king. On this occasion he appeared somewhat dazed, but mortals always did when gods interacted with them directly, so no one was surprised that he was temporarily silent. Zeus explained the contest and the tied votes (with a hard stare in Hermes’s direction) to the king, who nodded bravely. Erichthonius, a mortal man, was suddenly in a position of judgemental power over – Zeus had to repeat himself at this point – his own protector goddess or the god of the sea.

And though Erichthonius seemed stupefied, he knew he could not make this decision unless he was protected from its consequences. He murmured to Zeus, unaware that every god could hear every syllable, and so could we.

‘If I must choose one of these deities,’ he said, ‘what is to stop the other one from drowning me the next instant?’ Excitement rippled over the hill: he would choose Athene.

Poseidon raised his mighty head and stood tall.

Erichthonius quaked, but did not collapse.

Zeus frowned, because it had not occurred to him that there would be any consequence for the little king beyond the immediate reward from his patron goddess. But now he saw the man’s expression, and noticed that he was shaking uncontrollably, he could see that for some reason the king was terrified. Zeus thought for a moment then made a promise to the man that he would suffer no ill-effects from his decision.

And Erichthonius chose us. Chose Athene.

Poseidon slammed his trident into the ground and distant cities sank beneath his raging waves, never to be seen again. He slunk off into his puny sea, determined to take his revenge on someone, even if he couldn’t punish Erichthonius.

Athene planted the rest of this olive grove, to celebrate her victory. In case you didn’t know, victors in competitions in Athens (sporting, theatrical, you name it) are still given olive wreaths as prizes. We are the most jubilant of trees and everyone loves us for it.