This Immortal Heart: A Novel of Aphrodite(116)

“He planned it.” Ares swallows hard. “He thought himself entitled, as the Sea God’s son, to take the daughter of another god.” His lip curls. “You asked me what right I had to kill Halirrhothios. What right did he have to hurt her?”

Poseidon flings his hands in the air. “The right of any man to take what he wants.”

Eris claps her hands together, delighted at the turn of events, the deepening fissure between us.

Hera gives a tiny shake of her head, her mouth tight. Zeus scratches his chin, his gaze measured and thoughtful. “Go on, Ares,” he says.

“What else is there to say?” He speaks directly, matter-of-fact. “Halirrhothios stole his father’s chariot and trespassed in Scythia. He came upon my daughter, and I arrived just in time to see him trying to subdue her. He had her on the ground, he was tearing at her clothes.” At this, he stumbles slightly on his words, another crack in his composure. “He struck her across the face, ordering her not to scream. He had the good sense to fear what would happen if the other Amazons were alerted.”

At my side, I feel Alkippe shrinking in on herself. I wrap my arm around her.

“So,” says Zeus, “he hadn’t succeeded in his attempt when you arrived. You were there in time to save your daughter from his attentions. Why didn’t you just command him to leave her alone?”

“Exactly.” Poseidon sweeps his arm in a wild gesture toward Ares. “Why did you have to kill him?” The rawness behind his words is inescapable, a wave of rage and sorrow building within him, ready to crash and break across this rock.

At last, Ares meets my eyes. “You may be right,” he says. “I could have shouted to stop him, but I seized him instead. I pulled him off her and, when I saw the red mark on her face where he’d hit her, I flung him aside. I didn’t care if I killed him, but I didn’t intend it either. His head struck a boulder and split open.”

“That’s not good enough!” Poseidon roars. “You can’t wash your hands of it like that.”

Ares doesn’t blink. “It’s what happened,” he says. “He should never have gone to Scythia. And he should never have touched Alkippe, or any other Amazon he found there. You can make of it what you will.”

Zeus nods, rubbing his bearded chin with his thumb and forefinger. “We’ve heard your defense,” he muses. “I want to hear what the gods think.”

Poseidon’s eyes meet his. Apprehension swirls inside me, and I feel my hand tighten on Alkippe’s shoulder. I fear that Zeus’ decision was made before we ever got here.

“It all comes down to one story or another,” Apollo says smoothly. “And we know what the War God’s character is like. What evidence do we need to prove that Ares is violent? Reckless? Impulsive?”

Artemis wrinkles her nose. “That is true,” she says. “And we all know mortals are breakable. If you throw one, you’re likely to kill them.”

My heart sinks. No doubt Artemis only wants to be done with this trial so that she can go back to her forests. I’d hoped that Alkippe would appeal to her—a young woman so like the wild goddess herself, brave and free. But her loyalty to her twin is greater, and there is no reason for Artemis to side with Ares—or with me.

“Come on,” says Dionysus. “Halirrhothios stole an immortal chariot and rode it to the land of the Amazons. That’s reckless and impulsive. He planned to attack the girl. The consequences were predictable, to say the least.”

“Ares and Poseidon are both protective of their own children,” Demeter chimes in. “Why should Ares be condemned for it?”

A glimmer of relief. I didn’t know if I could count on Demeter to defend Ares. And who could ever have predicted Dionysus?

Athena shakes her head, her lips pursed. “He went too far,” she says. “Beyond the bounds of reason.”

“He was provoked.”

I turn, astonished. It’s Hephaestus, his voice timid as he contradicts Athena but growing in strength as he continues.

“The death was accidental. If Halirrhothios hadn’t done what he did, Ares would have had no reason to handle him roughly. In these circumstances, who can blame him?”

Zeus looks around the semicircle. “Demeter, Dionysus and Hephaestus have defended Ares,” he says. “Artemis, Apollo, Athena and Poseidon stand against him.”

“It would be a dangerous precedent,” Hera says. “To condemn a god for punishing a mortal. We must all be allowed to act accordingly when a human disobeys us or fails to show us the proper respect. Even if they are the sons of gods, they must not be immune to our justice.” She delivers this witheringly, her scorching glare directed squarely at Zeus.

“Ares is a killer.” Hermes is breezy, as merry as if this were no more than a pleasant conversation. “Just as Apollo said. Gods don’t need to resolve our disagreements with brute force. An ordinary mortal, who cares? He should have found another way to deal with Poseidon’s son.”

“Well,” Zeus muses, “four of you think Ares was right to murder Halirrhothios for his impiety. I’ll assume Aphrodite sides with him too.” He smirks. “It might be passion clouding her judgment, of course.”

“Passion has nothing to do with it,” I snap. “My sympathy is with Alkippe.”