a small affair, and it seldom satisfied itself with small results. When a God got angry with you, you simply hoped the result would be quick. You didn’t really dare hope it would also be temporary.
Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had been doing his own picking, he thought a little sadly, the job of tryout stand-in for Dionysus was not the job he would have chosen. But then, the choice wasn’t his, and it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.
Unfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn’t be laid at the door of the Gods. It would be laid at the door of William Forrester, together with a nice, big, black funeral wreath.
But it didn’t sound too bad at that, he told himself hopefully. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man was offered the job of stand-in for a God, not every day that a man was offered the chance of passing a lot of strenuous and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.
He told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but all he could think of was the succession of tests still to come. What would they be like? How could he ever pass them all? What would be thought necessary to establish a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?
Looks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and he certainly had those. For a second he almost wished he could see Ed Symes and apologize for getting mad when Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.
But then, he reflected, he didn’t want to go too far. The idea of apologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his sister was, made Forrester’s gorge rise about five and a half feet.
“However,” Aphrodite went on, as if she had just thought of something too unimportant to bother mentioning, “don’t worry about it. My father’s thunderbolt needn’t concern you. I have every confidence that you will prove yourself.”
She smiled radiantly at him.
The idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn’t think that a mortal’s mortality was important. But the idea didn’t stay long. Being reassured by a Goddess, he told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.
Venus was looking him up and down speculatively, and Forrester suddenly thought a new test was coming. A little gentle sweat began to break out on his forehead again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The High Priestess had been something special but, Forrester thought, she had not really called out his all. Venus was clearly another matter.
But Venus said only: “Those clothes,” in a considering sort of tone.
“Clothes?” Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.
“You certainly can’t go in those clothes. Hera would object quite violently, I’m afraid. She’s awfully stuffy about such things.”
The intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester. “Stuffy? Hera?”
“Confidentially,” Venus said, “at times, the All-Mother can be an absolute bitch.”
She went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a part of the light seemed to fade as she did so. Of course, she did nothing so crude as opening a door. When she started for the wall there was no closet apparent there, but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.
It was just that simple.
She took out a white robe and started back. Forrester took his eyes from her with an effort and watched the closet disappear again. By the time she had reached him, it was only a part of the swirling wall again.
And the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.
She handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but it seemed real enough. At any rate, it was as real as anything else that was happening to him, he thought.
It was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient Greek chiton, and open at one side instead of the front. Forrester turned it in his hands. At the waist and shoulder there was a golden clasp to hold it in place. The clasp wasn’t figured in any special way. The material itself was odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it was perfectly opaque, it was thinner than any paper Forrester had ever seen in public. It almost didn’t seem to be there when he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Venus said. “Get started.”
“Started?” Forrester said.
“Get dressed. The others are waiting for you.”
“Others?”
But she didn’t answer. Forrester looked frantically around the room for anything that looked even remotely like a dressing room. As a last resort, he was willing to settle for a screen. No room, no screen. He was willing to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There was none.
He looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he thought, she would leave while he dressed. She showed no sign of doing so. He cleared his throat and jerked at his collar nervously.
“Now, now,” Venus said sternly. “Don’t tell me the presence of your Goddess embarrasses you.” She raised her head imperiously. “Hurry it up.”
Very slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was, after all, nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a matter of fact, Venus ought to be getting used to the sight of him undressing by this time.
Somehow, he finally managed to get the chiton on straight. Venus looked him over and nodded her approval.
“Come along now,” she said. “They’re waiting for us. And one thing: don’t get nervous, for Hera’s sake. You’re all right.”
“Oh,” Forrester said. “Sure. Perfectly all right. Right as rain.”
“Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you’ll make a fine Dionysus.”
She led him toward a wall opposite where the closet had been. As they approached it, a section of it became bluer and bluer. With a sinking feeling, Forrester told himself that he knew what was coming.
He did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue haze of a Veil of Heaven, just like the one that had transported him from New York to his present position. Where that was, he wasn’t entirely sure, but remembering his one look out the window, he suspected it was Mount Olympus.
But there wasn’t any time for thinking. Venus took his hand coolly as they reached the blue haze. Then both of them stepped through.
CHAPTER SIX
The room into which they stepped seemed even larger than the one they had left. The distances were just as hard to measure, and why Forrester had the feeling, he couldn’t have said, but it did feel larger. The sense of enormous space hung over it.
The wall colors were just the same, however, dripping and changing in a continuous flow of patterns, with the little sunbursts and rainbows appearing here and there without any visible reason.
But the room itself was comparatively unimportant, Forrester knew. It was what went on in the room that sent shivers up his spine, and instructed one knee to start knocking against other one. He had heard of the Court of the Gods, though as far as he knew no mortal had ever seen it. There were certainly no photographs of it, even in the most exhaustive travel books.
Forrester knew without question that he was standing in that Courtroom. The knowledge did not make him calm. And the beings sitting and reclining on couches along the shimmering walls made him feel even worse. He recognized every one of them, and every one sent a new shock of awe running through his nerves. His stomach felt like a hard rubber handball.
There was Zeus All-Father, with his great, silvery, ringleted beard. His hands were combing through it and he was frowning majestically into the distance. Next to him was the imperious Hera, Mother of the Gods. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, as if she were waiting for the end of the world to be announced. There was Mars, tough and hairy-chested, scratching his side with one hand and scowling horribly. His fierce, bearded face looked somehow out of place without the battle helmet that