A Chariot Legend
72 B.C.
Zeus Onassis woke up abruptly. His bed was fit for a king, except he wasn’t one. He was just a middle-aged man who built chariots. Oh wait, I almost forgot, he was also the most prized man in Athens, even more popular than the leader (some noob named Bacchus). His bed was white as snow and had a view of the entire kingdom. The mansion was the tallest building in Athens and the most protected, for it was right by the water in case he needed a quick escape. He and his wife usually slept in the same bed, but sometimes she decided to sleep downstairs because it was too hot in their bedroom. They were both 40 years old, with a lovely son named Hermes. They had a rolling staircase, a heavy mobile staircase on castors, which a team of servants manned; when Zeus wanted to leave his luxurious apartment, or even get a snack of baklava in the kitchen, he chose a window, whistled to his team, and they rolled it over. These guards protected every entrance of the house.
He had woken up to a dream in which Venus Odysseus (a brilliant and beautiful former Athenian chariot racer) was whispering in his ear. Creepy. The message? “Be warned, Zeus Onassis, save yourself now. Because if you don’t, you will have nothing left, and then and only then will you have paid for what did not do.” Zeus jumped up from his gorgeous bed and looked around, but everything seemed just the way it was supposed to be. It was silent and still – not even the nightbirds were chirping. Were there even nightbirds? Zeus felt confused about everything. Oh yeah, birds sleep at night!
Zeus then went to his magnificent closet and had trouble picking which outfit to wear, but finally decided on a black tunic, with grey piping, since it matched his mood. He was still disturbed and decided he couldn’t go back to sleep. He then walked to the window, whistled to his team, and they brought over his heavy mobile staircase; he sauntered down the marble steps to reach the bottom level. He then checked to see if his wife was still downstairs, on the couch that was studded with onyx. She was. He looked into his son’s bedroom (which was bigger than most houses in Athens) and saw him, a dot in his bed which was big as a field, sleeping peacefully. After munching through an entire tray of honey-drizzled baklava chipped with pistachios, he decided to go back to bed but then realized as he was about to go upstairs that his team had already rolled away the mobile staircase. He was furious but couldn’t yell because of his sleeping family. He said in a harsh hushed whisper, “You little – .” but I cannot print what he said because kids under the age of 18 will probably be reading this. Let’s just say he cursed, a lot. His team, quaking in fear, positioned his mobile staircase swiftly. He quickly sank back into his bed, but when he drifted off to sleep he heard again, Venus Odysseus: “Zeus you better go now. If not, I will kill you, and everybody you love.”
Venus Odysseus was startled awake. Her bed was so small that her feet hung over the end of it. She was a poor Athenian who had had one great talent: chariot racing. But she hadn’t raced in over fifteen years. This was because of one man, Zeus Onassis. He had rejected her chance to become the chariot queen of Athens and one of the richest people in the world, all because he had let friendship get in the way of doing what was right.
About 15 years before… 87 B.C.
Zeus’s wife slept in their bed on a peaceful night, but Zeus was in his garage, working on a chariot that would help him become famous. Every year Athens and Rome competed in a chariot race, and the winner won bragging rights and thousands of drachma (Athenian currency). This made it the most exciting event in all of Greece. The Athenians had lost the past three chariot races, and each time they lost the race, they had to forfeit land, so their leader was trying desperately to find a chariot maker that could help them get some of their land back. The leader decided to put on a competition to find out which man could make the best chariot.
The Athenians may have been out of luck and might have kept on losing to the Romans if it weren’t for the genius named Zeus Onassis. Zeus had started making chariots at the young age of ten but never a chariot for a national competition – he was young and inexperienced but had talent. What took the best chariot makers days, took him hours. The people of Athens voted to pick out the best chariot maker. Zeus won in a landslide. He went right to work, spending months making the most dazzlingly swift chariot to win Athens back some of its land. Now, after being voted the builder, he needed to pick a top racer for his masterpiece. Being able to have the privilege to ride on a chariot in the annual Greek vs. Roman race was something the best competitors of Athens dreamed of, but it was not for the meek – chariot racing was a very dangerous sport. Now, 20 year-old Venus Odysseus had ridden the chariots for Athens for the past three years. She was considered by all the Athenians to be the best rider in the world, but didn’t have the right chariot maker to aid her to beat the Romans. This year the people of Athens believed that Venus, paired up with Zeus’s wonderful chariot, would easily win the race. Venus’s only other competition was a man named Bacchus. Bacchus, a empty-headed and conniving 21 year-old man, who had done Zeus many favors during the years, not excluding the acts of extortion and drachma laundering. Venus knew that Bacchus didn’t have the skill, or the mind to win the chariot race, but as Bacchus had dirt on him, and as Bacchus was dying for this legitimizing fame, Zeus had (he thought) no choice.
Cassius was known for being the best announcer in Greece, and had called many an Olympics and many many races, riveting the crowds with his bass voice, and humorous delivery, powerful enough to reach the last row in the Coliseum. Cassius was unbelievably massive: weighing in at almost half a ton, builders had needed to fortify his announcer’s booth with marble joists as well as extra padding, made from Roman-stitched velvet.
He scratched his arm and a dead skin cell flew off, tumbling through the air like a dead fly. He stared at the sun dial, urging it to move faster so they could begin the race. Athens was not the cleanest city, and in the booth hung smells from the food sold and consumed by Cassius from the last chariot race (no one had bothered to clean them up) and he snorted in disgust at the krusty souvlaki remains, kebab sticks splayed all over his desk, and pita chunks stuck in the cracks.
Ah yes, finally thought Cassius. The race is starting. Now it’s time to get into character. It was showtime. Cassius took one last sip of his watery wine, warmed up his famously loud voice, and picked up his megaphone:
“Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you twenty-one year old Bacchus Agnes from Athens! And from Rome, twenty-five year old Adines Cosmos! Both riders are in their chariots making any last minute changes. Adines is the heavy favorite here, having won the last four races. Bacchus is what we call here in Athens, a NOOB! I know many of you were expecting to see our svelte Venus Odysseus, but the winds of fate are not blowing in her direction this year!
Now as most of you know, the race consists of 45 laps. One lap is equivalent to diaulos (δίαυλος) or 2 stadia. The first one to cross the finish line of the last lap is the winner.
On your mark get set, GO!!!
Bacchus is off to a terrible start!!! Adines is several hammas [ἅμμα, equivalent to 20 yards] ahead of him. It seems that Bacchus is fighting with the chariot. If it were me I would just let the marvelous chariot to do whatever it wants. If my tremendous weight and girth did not snap Zeus’s chariot in two, ladies and gentlemen, I think that I, Cassius, could probably win this race with Zeus’s chariot.”
Cassius wiped the sweat foaming from his neck and took another sip of the tasteless water-wine.
The crowd roared on the first lap, and then subsided into a hum.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Athens, I talked to Zeus the other day and he used the finest iron, electrum, and copper components in his chariot construction. Oh! Back to Bacchus, I might add, who is using using those runty biceps to repeatedly hit the horses as hard as he can with a whip that Zeus beautifully has concocted, seems a bit redundant at the moment! It seems to me that despite Zeus’s spectacular chariot design and construction, Athens will lose for the fourth year in a row due to Bacchus’s woeful riding.”
Cassius continued the commentary for a good 24 laps. At lap 25 he went for another sip of the watery wine and a few moments later belched so loudly into the megaphone that one old man who was sleeping woke abruptly up and spilled his wine all over his younger (but still aged) sister. Cassius had just finished off a new plate of souvlaki when he noticed (as many of the fans did) that Bacchus was getting back into the race. Adines had been in the lead for quite some time, but all of a sudden, Zeus’s chariot started to work its magic.
Cassius (who had placed a heavy bet that Bacchus would win – not the most ethical thing to do if you are an announcer) was overjoyed to see that Zeus’s chariot was, despite its feckless driver, speeding towards Adines Cosmos’s.
“Bacchus is slowly getting back into this race. It seems to me that Zeus’s chariot is doing most of the work. While Adines’s chariot moves around and has had trouble making turns, Bacchus’s has been making crisp turns. Wait a second… is Bacchus closing his eyes? No! That can’t be right? Now, as I was saying Zeus’s craftsmanship is – what? Is Bacchus screaming for help? We’re only on the thirty-fourth lap and Bacchus is blubbering like a baby!”
Cassius, who had money at stake (50 drachmas was a lot) had been horrified to see that the Athenians were losing, and was simply stress-eating to chase away his rising depression. He had made the bet knowing that Zeus’s chariot was magic, but had not anticipated how lousy Bacchus was at riding. The 50 drachma bet he had made with a Roman (who he had met at a fish market, at the kolios, or mackerel stand) was a risky bet because Cassius didn’t even have 50 drachmas. (Announcing wasn’t a high wage job in ancient Greece; the perks came with unlimited free stadium food and water-wine). Adding to his sudden dyspepsia was that a giant rat the size of his hand had somehow managed to creep onto his arm and bite him. Cassius bellowed mightily and jumped out of his chair, rat following him, as in a clumsy dance. But the rat leapt away, desperate to find his way back to his home when Cassius lunged toward it… and grabbed nothing but air, his heavy fingers bruising each other as they collided, thickly. Cassius, his face turning as red as a rose, gingerly got back into his chair and continued commentating.
“Oh! This is unbelievable – Bacchus has pulled within an orgyia [ὄργυια, or 6 feet] of Adines! On one of the turns it appears that the chariot is moving by itself. Right when Bacchus looked like he was falling off the chariot, it righted itself! You have to give props to Zeus on that!”
Cassius looked at his arm and saw that it was swelling. Cassius was either very tough, had got a minor bite, or was so excited by the change of events (I’m guessing it was choice two and three) that he kept on announcing. However, he did slurp down a half konché [κόγχη, or about 8 ounces] of water-wine to bury his anger.
“Bacchus has fallen unconscious! I repeat, Bacchus has fallen unconscious! He took a bad turn and banged his head on the front of the chariot! What is this? The chariot is still moving, and going even faster now! This is incredible! The horses are running as if they’re possessed. Bacchus still hasn’t woken up. Somebody wake him up! He’ll die in there! Oh! The chariot seems to be doing better without Bacchus? Bacchus has taken the lead!!!”
At this point Cassius was so excited that he began jumping around (breaking several marble joists in the process). The way the race was going he might be able to pay off his overdue taxes!
“It’s a wrap ladies and gentlemen. Bacchus is three laps ahead of Adines as we go into the forty-fourth lap. Wait a second, Bacchus has finally woken up. He seems to be confused. Now he has the whip back in his hands and is hitting the horses on their backside. This is not good for Athens. Bacchus is back controlling the chariot again! Oh, ladies and gentlemen, he has beaten one of the horses too hard, and it is bleeding, and it is… slowing down, and stopping! Cosmos is gaining! Send in a trainer pronto! Oh, Bacchus, you unworthy cretin! We are now on the last lap and Bacchus is neck and neck with Adines. Somehow Bacchus has blown the biggest lead I’ve seen in a century and might lose the race for Athens! We are halfway through the last lap and Adines is slowly inching on him! It looks Rome will finish off this amazing comeback and take the championship for the fourth year in a row. CLANG. Somebody has just thrown a can at Bacchus’s head, and he’s unconscious again! This is a bad day for Bacchus and his head. We are on the final turn and Bacchus’s chariot, or should I say the chariot, is inching ahead. Twenty meters, ten meters, five meters, and ATHENS HAS WON!!!!!!! Bacchus is still unconscious, and the fans are cheering. What a race! Ladies and Gentlemen, we can justify our exuberance by unofficially declaring that Zeus Onassis is the hero in today’s race! Three cheers for Zeus! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!!!”
…
72 B.C.
Zeus rolled around in his bed but couldn’t go to sleep. He could still hear Venus, with a smile in her voice, saying that he better run now, or else. Zeus’s heart rate suddenly increased, and he got shaky all over – then fell out of bed. It was the first anxiety attack he had in fifteen years. The feeling of dread slowly seeped into his body, and made him even more terrified. He then whistled to his team of servants who quickly brought him his mobile staircase. They stood there waiting for their boss to descend, but instead Zeus stared at them, eyes blazing, as if waiting for them to do something. One of the braver servants asked, “Sir, is there anything we could do for you?” Zeus answered in a soft but dangerous voice.
“Yes, there is something you could do buddy. How about if you go to the first floor and make me some hot chocolate before you get fired!” The servant quickly disappeared. He stared at the rest of the servants, his face scrunched up with fire in his eyes. “What are you guys staring at?! Go get the bath set up before you end up like Akilina!” Akilina was dead. He had been slaughtered by Zeus for accidently spilling hot chocolate all over his Zeus and his wife. As you may tell, Zeus was not the nicest guy in Athens, but hey he needed his brain power for making chariots. He spent a few hours happily drinking hot chocolate, and relaxing his aching muscles in the hot water of his steaming, resplendent bath, appointed in gold-veined marble. When he got out of the water, he made an important decision. He was going to end Venus once and for all.
One of Zeus’s servants went by the name of Basil. Basil was sick and tired of Zeus bossing him around, of the low pay, of the colorful death threats. One day when he was on his only break of the week (he got 30 minutes a week) he ran into none other than… Venus Odysseus. The servant had no idea who she was, but she told him that she was an old chariot racer looking for Zeus. Basil immediately respected her because not only did he not care about her intentions, but she was gorgeous and he was ready to do anything she wanted. When she told him what it was, he almost fainted. She wanted him to spy, and make sure that the wife was to sleep downstairs that night, so it was just Zeus in the bed. Then, he would unlock the front door and Venus would come in with her Kopis (a Greek sword). She would go up the mobile staircase which Basil would have to move by himself, and would walk up the staircase, open the door, and kill Zeus. After that, she would steal all the treasure Zeus kept. As a result, she and Basil would rule the chariot scene in Athens side by side, (at least that was Venus told Basil, she was going to ditch him as soon as she started ruling).
Venus slowly crept around Zeus’s mansion. She had to be careful to not be seen, and stay hidden until Basil gave the signal. When Basil did, she scurried to the door, went in, and proceeded to go up the mobile staircase that Basil had laid out. She ran up the staircase, and tiptoed down the hallway. She slowly opened the door and smiled. There he was, the amazing Zeus Onassis, lying in his bed. She looked around the room, but the light was dim and she couldn’t make out the features very well. Venus then raised the Kopis, ran to the bed, and screamed, “Revenge!!!” and stabbed Zeus in the heart. The end. Just kidding. Basil in fact was not a double crosser. He was a triple crosser. He had gone to Zeus and told him about Venus’s dark aims. They created a plan in which they would darken the room and put a dummy of Zeus into the bed. The real Zeus would sleep with his wife, and Basil would wake him up. So as Venus was stabbing the Zeus dummy (filled with small woolen bags of tomato juice) Basil and Zeus came through the door and pierced her with a spear, turning her into an instant (yet gorgeous) kabob.
2018 A.D.
Now here I am telling you about a story that happened two millennia ago. The story ends with Basil being promoted to Chief of Staff, with one 45-minute break a week, and Zeus learning to be kinder to his servants. Venus was obviously dead, but taught us kids a valuable lesson. Don’t trust people… or don’t drive chariots, but the most valuable lesson that can be learned is to… not get carried away seeking revenge. Sure, Venus could be bitter about Zeus’s action, but that is no excuse to try and kill him. Remember kids, don’t try to kill a powerful and brilliant man, or something bad will happen. Just ask Venus.