At the God-King's expressionless glance, the thunder's oppressive might drew in without a sound.
A terrible weight, as heavy as the firmament, the awe of the supreme sovereign, descended in an instant, and even serene Leto's delicate body could not help but tremble.
Yet she forced her heart to steadiness and simply looked up in earnest at the one before her—her one true sovereign.
Zeus rebuked coldly: "You are a close attendant at my beloved Hera's side. She sheltered you, forgave all your past, and even generously bestowed upon you a new, great law. She has ever treated you sisters with favor."
"You are worldly-wise and keen. In so long a time, you have more than understood her nature."
"She trusts you so deeply; then you should know how great a hurt what you are doing now would bring her."
The God-King's voice grew colder, each word like a divine hammer striking hard upon Leto's divinity.
"With such conduct—have you truly no conscience at all?"
His fingers pinching her delicate chin tightened slightly.
The force was just right—not enough to harm her, yet enough for the goddess before him to feel a real pain.
The God-King's voice was no longer gentle, but boomed like thunder from the ninth heaven, shaking all around.
Each word struck Leto's heart with a heavy blow; an inexpressible fear followed and shrouded her entire divinity.
Outside the temple upon the sky, it was as if distant thunder rolled from the depths of the clouds. An unseen pressure proclaimed that in the next instant the God-King's dreadful wrath would pour down as tangible lightning.
Yet that fear from the depths of her divinity flashed through Leto's eyes and was gone.
She still kept the most deferential posture in submissive calm, and with a soft yet steadfast voice opened her lips: "Your Majesty, the goddess Hera has sheltered us sisters and shown us great favor. Her grace we will strive to repay with eternal time."
"Only, it is you who are truly our one and only sovereign. You who have triumphed over all and conquered all."
"We are your spoils of war. You are the only conqueror who holds every right over us."
"You did not, like the old God-King, pitilessly punish us, the defeated."
"On the contrary, it was you who forgave us in person. This vast mercy of yours is what we can never repay through eternity."
She paused a little, as if to muster courage, then went on: "You are our conqueror. I long to be conquered by you. In truth, I have already long been conquered."
"The goddess Hera is my Lady; I ought to serve her. But you are even more the sovereign of my all. Your will is my will, overriding everything."
"So how could I possibly conceal from you even the least thing you ask?"
"This is speaking for the public."
"As for—for the private…"
Her voice grew ever softer, with a voluntary humility that made divinity quiver. "My whole self has long been conquered by you, including my divinity and every thought."
"I willingly crouch as a hen before you. However you would treat me, I do so willingly—and could ask for nothing better."
"Your Majesty, you are so radiant and towering; you are the greatest and holiest god."
"Can it be a goddess's sin if she is conquered only because she cannot resist your splendor?"
"Honored Majesty, all springs from your will. I will forever obey your will."
"Whether you deign to pity me and grant me that great and precious love, or look past me as though not seeing, or cast me away like a worn shoe—I will only and absolutely obey without condition."
She reaffirmed her steadfast thought: "Whatever your will may be, I will only absolutely obey and carry it out."
The curve at Zeus's mouth tilted slightly upward; a nameless smile sketched there, and the freezing awe that could lock all divinity dispersed in an instant.
He finally released Leto's chin, then used the pad of his finger to lightly pinch her smooth, delicate cheek, and said with a smile, "You are wise indeed—and obedient enough. In that case, this matter is not truly your fault."
With the God-King's smile, all the chilly menace and dreadful pressure turned to a spring breeze.
Zeus appreciated the near-perfect plea and bearing before him and admired this beautiful goddess all the more.
Such a goddess is a goddess with charm.
"Remember what I have said before. Serve my beloved Hera well."
Leto turned her face slightly and, of her own accord, gently pressed her delicate cheek against that broad hand that held the cosmos.
She nuzzled softly and murmured low: "Honored Majesty, the goddess Hera is our Lady; we will absolutely follow her will. Only, that obedience will forever be on the premise of not conflicting with your will."
"Beyond that, we will do everything to repay the Lady Hera's grace and gifts."
Zeus nodded in satisfaction. Gazing at the peerless face before him, he suddenly said, "In time I will pardon Coeus and Phoebe."
"They trod upon my majesty; I have reclaimed their authority. All that is past is settled."
It was a mild statement, but to Leto it was as if the wildest thunderbolt struck down and in an instant ran through her soul!
Her heart jolted; her delicate body stiffened; her heartbeat seemed to stall; in the depths of her golden eyes, storm-waves rose.
She was about to speak, but Zeus pinched her cheek again and cut off all words.
His Majesty the God-King smiled and, with a gaze that saw through all, looked at her: "Leto, Leto—beautiful and serene you. Wise and clear you. Keep to it. As you are, you are truly very charming. I like it much."
"Perhaps on some day to come, I myself will be conquered by your beauty."
As the words fell, the God-King's figure had already become a streak of dazzling golden lightning and vanished.
Leto stood dazed, long unable to return to herself.
At length she lightly raised her hand and touched her delicate cheek.
There lingered there a faint touch of pain—and that hand's irresistible warmth.
The heartbeat she had forced down at last broke free of reason's fetters and began pounding with extraordinary speed.
In that moment, she who held the authority of "Discernment" could clearly be certain that everything lay within His Majesty the God-King's sight.
That answer made her heart tremble—but all the more moved.
His Majesty the Supreme God-King was indeed a generous and amorous Majesty.
But she had no time to savor it. She quickly gathered herself and immediately sent a god-thought message to her sister, bidding Asteria find the best reason to leave Hera's side for now.
His Majesty the God-King would be here at once.
They must not delay His Majesty's serious business.
With Leto keeping the temple, it fell to Asteria to attend Hera's side.
The goddess Hera's mood of late had truly been hard to lift.
But she was, after all, an exceedingly gentle and kind goddess, and whatever her troubles, she would bear them alone.
The happiness of holding her most beloved God-King at the convocation of all the gods had turned into the sweetest poison.
That indelible brand of memory made her, between day and night, think and suffer again and again.
She hated her own powerlessness—why could she not erase it from her memory?
After the convocation of all the gods, the God-King who had just once more declared his love for her still let himself go, without the least correction.
First he ran to the Underworld and tangled with the sultry goddess of Night.
Upon returning to Olympus—before even returning to his temple—he had with Selene, Mistress of Clear Radiance, begotten a lovely child.
Then, before all the gods, he declared Demeter his fourth wife.
All of this left Hera very forlorn.
Her beloved God-King seemed to do no serious business—only busying himself with different goddesses!
At this rate, in a few years one might be unable to count the number of the God-King's wives upon two hands.
But as for herself?
What could she do?
Should she keep faithful still?
Hold to that future she had foreseen long ago—a future destined to become ever more bitter?
At every moment she bore that ever-stronger primordial divine impulse, as well as the universe's formless pleading and urging.
This double pressure was about to crush her resilient divinity entirely.
As Great Mother Goddess, she truly ought to fulfill her most sacred charge.
For now she could still forcibly separate the laws she derived.
But later?
Could she go on forever separating each new law, one after another?
If it continued so, she would either go and find another being to beget a child with—or she could only bear a child herself.
To find another being was something she would never consider; that option was never within her thinking.
So only the path of bearing one herself remained.
But—
she was still a goddess undefiled and pure!
She wanted only—and was willing only—to bear the child that would belong to her and her beloved God-King!
Yet the God-King's embrace could never be kept for her alone.
Heaven knew how, as "Great Mother Goddess of Procreation," Hera, when she saw those lovely children the God-King had begotten with other goddesses, how much envy and love filled her heart.
Her maternal instinct was by nature the strongest in this universe.
And now the whole of Olympus was becoming her heartbreak ground.
Range upon sacred range—look where she would—were the God-King's wives and their children.
Or those goddesses who had already been intimate with the God-King but had not yet become wives…
She wanted to clear her mind and ease the knot in her heart, and now could only go down to the broad earth.
She did not wish to bring attendant nymphs; she let only Asteria accompany her.
Upon the earth, the brothers Prometheus had newly created not a few beings—some, rather interesting.
Especially lately, they had with the greatest stir created a race called "humans," and even invited the great Mother of All and the wisdom goddess to join in.
Hera keenly felt that her beloved God-King surely valued this newborn race highly.
She too took interest in it and was preparing to see the newborn humans.
But she was not in a hurry, and ambled along with Asteria.
To deathless gods, many a time the scenery en route was more important than the destination.
Just then, Asteria at her side softly said, "Honored Lady, I hear Epimetheus is with Prometheus as well."
"I have seen him several times; he is truly not a pleasing god and often does foolish things that put gods in awkward spots."
"If you wish, let me go see first. If he is there, I can ask him to stroll elsewhere for a time, so as not to spoil your mood."
Hera pondered a bit.
She truly did not want to deal with fools.
At the sight of fools she recalled that other fool, Poseidon—that one who gave her both headaches and helpless sighs.
She nodded lightly, a faint smile upon her face, and said with a smile, "Very well. Thank you, Asteria."
Asteria returned a slight smile, her look pure: "It is nothing. Please enjoy the scenery along the way. I will go and have a look first."
Hera nodded lightly, and Asteria's figure turned to a stream of light and departed.
In a moment heaven and earth held only Hera; hills and plains were clear and quiet at once.
In little time the sky seemed slowly crumpled by an unseen giant hand; a fierce wind came through the woods; gloom surged and layered clouds rose.
Then lightning flickered; thunder veiled the sky; a pelting rain poured down; mountains and rivers turned a blinding white; the world held only the sound of water.
The downpour came suddenly, but Hera did not mind.
A warm golden radiance naturally formed about her and shut out all dust and chill.
Only—alone, wandering this broad earth.
And the curtain of rain was the sign most familiar of "Him"—wind, cloud, thunder, rain, all the language of that Lord of the Sky.
Shrouded by this sudden overcast, Hera, whose heart had eased a little at the beautiful scenery, sank again in mood at once.
Just then, a thin line of motion fluttered through the rain.
A small lark struggled against the raging storm.
But how could that tiny body of a bird resist the awe that came from the heavens?
It could only whirl about senselessly in the violent wind and rain.
Feathers once smooth and bright were drenched through by icy rain.
The tiny body beat its wings with difficulty in the seams of wind and rain, swaying and heavy, hard to go on.
The throat whose sound was most lovely was now shrouded by cold and left only a thin and piteous cry.
The voice was a thread in the thunderstorm, as if at any moment it might be swallowed whole by the wind and rain.
Thus the bird entered Hera's sight—and also her heart, which of late had been often stung by wind and rain.
In this poor, piteous, helpless bird, she seemed to see herself.
A pitiful being likewise trapped in storms, swept by the wind and rain of love, unable to break free, nowhere to flee.
The trembling frailty at once raised boundless pity in her heart.
So she opened her arms, lifted her hand, and, with jade-like fingers, extended a wisp of gentle divine power to slowly draw the bird, already tottering in the wind and rain, into her embrace.
The bird was full of spirit: it did not struggle or panic at all.
Following Hera's supremely gentle guidance, it flew straight into the great Mother's hand and lay obediently in her palm.
Tender, loving Hera held the little bird in her palm, gently wiped all the rain from its body, and with her warm divinity dried its soaked form.
In her hand the bird yielded utterly to her every motion.
There was no resistance or defiance whatsoever; from time to time it even trilled in its sweetest song, as if to thank the goddess for her supreme gentleness.
Yet even with the water wiped away, the little bird still seemed to shiver, its small body trembling ceaselessly.
At the sight of its pitiful state, Hera's heart filled with greater love; she set it softly against her warm breast.
The crafty bird knew well where the warmest place was and, without ceremony, burrowed into her embrace and came lightly, precisely to her front.
As if finding its nest, it curled up at the ultimate warmth of the great Mother's softness.
Sensing a warmth that could melt all cold, the little bird nestled its head between those two extraordinary mountains and rubbed to and fro, as if seeking the warmest spot.
From time to time it even used its tiny beak to peck lightly once or twice, like one returning from ice and snow to spring—brimming with vigor!
By now the bird's motions were clearly not quite right.
But Hera, in a low mood and filled with endless pity, did not realize anything amiss for the moment.
Indeed, she had not seen what problem this little bird had.
Its aura looked like the most ordinary of birds, so she thought no more of it.
A great Mother Goddess is kindly and charitable, nourishing all beings—duty itself.
So not only did she not stop it; she drew it closer still and warmed it with her body's heat.
She had no idea she had let the base trick of that cunning God-King succeed.
Yes—this lark was Zeus!
Had he not transformed in person, he could never have deceived Hera's keen perception.
This time he turned into a lark—not that ill-famed cuckoo.
Those who penned the cuckoo tales were plainly smearing him by borrowing the cuckoo's traits!
He would not turn into a cuckoo!
But a lark—this would do.
He knew that with Hera's tender and loving nature, she could never stand by at the sight of so pitiful a bird.
Plan: great success!
In ordinary times, to obtain such active tenderness from his beloved Hera, and to nest so comfortably at her breast, would be unthinkable.
The great Mother's embrace was truly…
Wonderful!
The great Mother's embrace is indeed the rest for all beings!
Zeus, caught tight between those warm and soft snowy peaks, was wrapped up in the ultimate bliss.
He nearly forgot the true purpose of his visit.
Hera, whose heart had been very low, had slightly recovered, when a sense of wrongness swiftly rose in her divine thought.
Something was off…
It was all too coincidental.
This rain—too well-timed; this bird—its arrival too neat.
And the bird itself—was it not a bit too spirited…
In her embrace it was obedient beyond normal.
Even if she, toward all beings, bore a mother's innate affinity, this bird's behavior was truly unlike a real bird.
No.
Hera lowered her gaze; golden eyes flashed.
What on earth was the bird doing?!
Where was its beak pecking?!
The gentle, pretty face turned at once; her expression went cold.
She thrust her hand into her embrace and caught the bird in the act!
Her jade hand applied a little force—and not a hint of harm!
Between her fingers were smooth feathers, yet she sensed a will she knew to the marrow!
All know His Majesty the God-King has little resistance to temptation.
All the more when it is his most beloved Hera—if he could restrain himself, that would be the greatest disrespect to her!
And so, unawares, he had gone quite too far…
"Zeus!"
Shamed and angry, her jade cheeks flushed; from between clenched pearl teeth she forced out the name she loved most.
Gentle Hera was, rarely, truly angry.
Called back to reason by that chill word, His Majesty the God-King felt a sudden lurch: "Bad!"
Thus the bird, already tight in Hera's grasp, let out a most piteous cry, then rolled its eyes up and cocked its neck askew.
Neat and clean, he chose to play dead.
Hera looked at this bird pretending to play dead in her palm—"acting the part" quite well.
Her red lips tilted slightly upward, showing a cold smile: "Still pretending!"
Her slender jade hand tightened; divine power surged—she meant to give Zeus a deep lesson!
Naturally, it was to no avail.
Even if she used all her strength, she could not harm the bird in the least.
Power that could grind mountains and split seas only kneaded this ball of "feathers" rounder still.
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