Pantheology

By Ibrahim Amin

The golden Olympian light danced across the white marble table in ways that would cause a personified version of physics to take hemlock rather than live to witness his rules being so blatantly abused. The occupants of the chamber paid it no heed, having all long been used to the many wonders of this sacred place. It had been many mortal generations since Zeus had commanded the council of gods to convene, and despite the air of nonchalance that adorned most of the faces around the table, everyone was a little curious as to the cause.

At last the lord of Olympus raised his hand to subdue the murmurs, and spoke.

“I know it has been long since I have required you to attend council, and I am glad to see that you have not forgotten your stations.” The chief of the gods glanced meaningfully at the opposite end of the table as he said this, where Ares and Apollo stood scowling. At the right of Zeus’ chair was the seat reserved for the highest-ranking son. Since the time of the chamber’s design by Hephaestus, he had allowed Athene to take the chair, to avoid conflict between the more egotistical of his sons. Today he had the notion that his sons, now a great deal older and (supposedly) more mature, could diplomatically decide on who would take the chair. He was wrong. It had taken every other god in the hall to pull the two combatants apart. Zeus had refused to hear the usual excuses (ie. “But he started it!”) and had forced both squabbling siblings to stand at the opposite end of the table whilst Athene once again graced the fought-over chair.

“As I watch over the realm of men,” Zeus continued, “I don’t feel the devotion that was once there. The Romans still make their sacrifices in the manner of their fathers, but the spirit is not there. It has become an empty ritual.”

“Let me tear their empire apart!” Ares growled in his traditional manor, perhaps attempting to regain some dignity after his relegation to the bottom of the table. “We helped them build their damn empire! If they won’t give us our due acknowledgement, then I say we send their city to join Atlantis!”

Zeus sighed and once more raised his hand; this time to halt Aphrodite from inevitably whining melodramatically about how cruel it was to destroy the empire her line had built with blood, sweat and tears.

“Ares,” Zeus spoke patiently, used to such immature outbursts, “if we destroy all the people whom we want to worship us, then there won’t be anyone left to worship us at all.”

“Well, maybe I could just kill a few thousand...” Ares trailed off, aware that he had lost this one.

“Let us work a miracle upon the Earth,” Demeter broke in, as the blood god trailed off, “I will make all the new planted crops mature overnight. Then the mortals will have no choice but to believe it is the work of the gods.”

“A simple miracle isn’t good enough.” All eyes fell upon the vacant chair beside Poseidon, as the lord of the Underworld materialised there, his invisibility cap in his hand. “A miracle won’t have the long lasting effect we want. Besides, other groups might take it as a sign of their own powers working, and we don’t want to encourage other beliefs.” Hades kept his dark eyes drifting from face to face as he spoke these words, but Athene knew they were directed at her.

“How was I to know that the mortals would take it seriously? Besides, I didn’t even mean to leave it there.” Athene muttered the words without conviction.

“But you did, and they believed it. Now this religion of yours has spread to far too many people to just dismiss it as another cult.” Hades now met her eyes, forcing her to look away from his sinister orbs.

“I was just trying to write an epic. If mortals can do it, then why can’t the gods?”

“Most epics are about us; they reinforce the faith, whereas your… what was your writing called again?”

“The Torah.” Athene spoke quietly and didn’t even try to meet his gaze. She knew when arguing was pointless.

“Your Torah has started a whole race believing in the idea of one god.”

“Monotheism has been around for centuries. This epic of hers may have given it some life, but it won’t last. I can’t imagine monotheism catching on.” Zeus spoke, as always, in defence of his favourite. “We should return to the matter at hand.”

Hades made as if he was about to object, but held his tongue. Athene smiled gratefully, glad to have the matter dropped.

“The last time I needed to keep the mortals in line, I allowed a great flood to purify the Earth. This cannot now be done, as I have given my word not to harm the Roman race. I have decided that we need to seek advice from another source, an older pantheon.” A murmur of discontent drifted across the room.

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