Uroboros Saga, Book 9, Preview
“I’m not talking about that. How do you know about Mars? That was decades ago,” Silverstein asked.
“That is a sensitive conversation, and we have an audience.”
Silverstein nodded. “We need a proper analogue, then.”
“Have you heard the story of Anchises?” Kale asked, looking up at the fresco painted on the ceiling overhead.
“He’s warned not to boast of his affair with Aphrodite, lest he be struck by a thunderbolt. In the version you’re referring to, was he killed, or merely rendered blind?” Silverstein replied, shifting uncomfortably.
“What matters is that he had a son,” Kale replied, sipping his coffee. “That son, Aeneas had a wife. In carrying his elderly father out of the flames of Troy, his wife did not survive as they escaped.”
“But, the son of Aeneas and Creusa, Ascanius, would survive to be part of the lineage of Romulus, the founder of Rome,” Silverstein said.
“Anchises’ foolish pride nearly got his son, and grandson, killed. Creusa pleaded with them to flee. To think of their posterity. The Gods set her aflame as a sign, along with a shooting star. At last Anchises, dousing Creusa in water, agrees to flee Troy,” Kale replies, squinting upward.
Silverstein nodded. “She does not die then, but later as she falters behind as they flee, presumably killed by the Greeks.”
“Aeneas goes back to find her, but she has been killed, or taken. Then, Creusa’s ghost appears, telling him where he will go, and that he will marry another. She pleads with him to care for their son,” Kale said, setting his coffee down, and folding his arms.
“And, Aeneas tries to hold her, three times, but cannot take hold of her before she vanishes into the ether,” Silverstein says, beginning to understand. “She was rescued, in death, by Rhea and Aphrodite to keep her from being enslaved.”
Kale nodded, giving Silverstein a hardened expression.
“Except in our version of the story, I’m Anchises, I got Aeneas killed, hid Ascanius away, and I am the one haunted by Creusa?” Silverstein muttered, shaking his head. “How do we deal with her?”
Kale cocked his head to one side, “Do you really see yourself as Anchises?”
“If not me, then who?” Silverstein replied, sullenly.
“Doctor Maurice Madmar. I know you see him as a victim, but I am confident that regardless of his role, what happened was not your fault,” Kale said, his expression darkening with his mood.
“What are you seeing in this that I don’t see?” Silverstein asked.
“It may be that as much as we need to address the plight of Creusa, we need to appeal to the desires of Rhea, and Aphrodite.”
“Did you lay awake all night thinking of that analogue?” Silverstein said, covering his face with his hands.