Fury of the Gods

By L. Christodoulou

Theo and Leon Smith are flying to Athens with their parents to attend the Olympic Games when, passing Mount Olympus, the aeroplane is intercepted and embroiled in an ancient Greek battle that has raged for thousands of years. Forced to land, the captain is confronted with a conundrum in the clouds that could only have been created by some immortal force. Theo and Leon, fascinated by ancient Greece, are willing participants in the awesome but scary events that follow.

Numerous criminals and a net full of birds imprisoned in the clouds by the gods are the source of the terror. Rescued and returned to Athens, the task of helping them to acclimatize to the twenty-first century falls to the Smith family and various academics.
While visiting the ruins of Olympia with their ancient friends, the boys find themselves in Ancient Olympia with the race about to start. The all-important victors speech is interrupted by the unceremonious arrival of Theos teacher, instigating a series of perilous recriminations. Their lives are endangered many times as they become involved in the bloody battles and rituals of ancient Greece. Tragedy and redemption do not strike, however, until Theo and Leon return to Athens, AD 2004, in time for the Olympic Games.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491883372

L. Christodoulou

Loulla Christo Doulou was born in Cyprus and grew up in London, where she still lives with her husband, Andreas. They have three children and six grandchildren, and although the entire family speak Greek as well as English, to her dismay, none of them share her lifelong fascination with ancient Greece. This fascination and her passion for writing have been combined in Fury of the Gods to bring to life those incredible times, thus hoping to encourage not only her own grandchildren but also other young people to appreciate the origins of their civilization.

Book preview

FURY OF THE

GODS

L. Christodoulou

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AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

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© 2013 by L. Christodoulou. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/23/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8335-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8336-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8337-2 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements:

Chapter 1   The Flight, July AD 2004

Chapter 2   The Strangers’ Tale, July AD 2004

Chapter 3   Cloud Cuckoo Land, 760 BC

Chapter 4   The Golden Age, 438 BC

Chapter 5   The Rescue, AD 2004

Chapter 6   Back to Earth, AD 2004

Chapter 7   Bold New World, AD 2004

Chapter 8   The Academics, AD 2004

Chapter 9   The Homecoming, AD 2004

Chapter 10   Surfing the Internet, AD 2004

Chapter 11   Ancient Olympia, AD 2004

Chapter 12   The Olympic Race, 760 BC

Chapter 13   The Trial, 760 BC

Chapter 14   Kidnapped, 760 BC

Chapter 15   The Rescue, 760 BC

Chapter 16   The Escape, 760 BC

Chapter 17   The Journey to Dendropolis, 760 BC

Chapter 18   The Battle, 760 BC

Chapter 19   Dendropolis, 760 BC

Chapter 20   The Peace Plan, 760 BC

Chapter 21   The Sacrifice, 760 BC

Chapter 22   The Peace Treaty, 760 BC

Chapter 23   A Greek Wedding, 760 BC

Chapter 24   The Birds Gather, 760 BC

Chapter 25   Return to Olympia, 760 BC

Chapter 26   Death in Athens, AD 2004

Chapter 27   An Inauguration and a Funeral, AD 2004

Chapter 28   The Olympic Games, AD 2004

Chapter 29   The Accident, AD 2004

Chapter 30   The Guilty Secret, AD 2004

Chapter 31   Closure, AD 2004

About the Author

About the Book

Endnotes

For my husband, Andreas, and my grandchildren:

Anastasia

Andreas

Eufrosyni

Francesca

George

Stefanie

Acknowledgements:

I am grateful to Joan Stanton for the wonderful drawings included in Fury of the Gods and to Helen Hajifanis for her invaluable advice and encouragement.

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Chapter 1

The Flight, July AD 2004

The aircraft had almost reached its destination by the time of the mysterious happenings. Up to that point, the early morning flight to Athens had been neither mysterious nor strange. In fact, so uneventful was it that Theo had read all his comics and had started on his book without too many distractions. He was much too excited to concentrate, however, and sleep was out of the question. He was thinking of the great summer holiday that lay ahead: his grandmother’s cooking and his cousins in Rhodes, the sun and the sea, and to crown it all, the Olympic Games. It was his turn in the window seat, so he just sat marvelling at the landscape and trying to identify landmarks.

Sprawled out in the seat next to him was Leon, also wide awake, composing a message to his latest girlfriend. Since discovering girls, Leon paid scant attention to his younger brother, who was mortified by this transition from mischievous boy to stroppy teenager, with more interest in sexy pictures than playing football in the garden.

Leon showed little interest in either land or sky, even when Theo shouted, ‘Look, Leon, over there! Quick—look!’

He was pointing out the window at pinpricks in a huge expanse of sky, but the clouds had moved, obliterating the view. Almost without taking his eyes off his laptop screen, Leon glanced out of the window.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Keep looking and I bet you’ll see them,’ insisted Theo.

‘All I can see are sky and clouds, like any other sane person up here,’ said Leon.

‘You are so boring—not trying very hard, are you? All you’re interested in are computers and mobile phones and things. Oh, yes, and stupid girls.’

This tirade forced Leon to pay attention at last and he scanned the sky.

‘I wish you would tell me what I’m supposed to be looking at. I still cannot see anything,’ he said.

Now, Theo might be the youngest member of the family, but he was no baby, and neither was he prone to illusions. He knew that mere mortals could not inhabit the clouds, but there they were, standing on one, silhouetted against the clear blue sky.

The other passengers were either reading or dozing, blinds pulled right down against the blinding light that was emanating from the great orange ball suspended in the sky above them, so there were no other witnesses to this strange event.

Clouds are rare in the amazing blue of the Greek sky in summertime. The light has such a startlingly bright quality that everything looks clearer and sharper than anywhere else. Theo was thoroughly bored now that everything had been eaten, drunk, read, and played, and he was counting how many seconds it took for one of the few fluffy white clouds to disappear from view. As he was watching, it changed direction and seemed to be on a collision course with the wing over which he was sitting. That was when he had first seen them but had instantly thought that he was imagining things: the apparition was almost subliminal and had quickly disappeared. Then, gradually, the scene reappeared and quickly disappeared again as the clouds moved, and Theo was beginning to find the whole phenomenon quite alarming. That was when he had alerted Leon.

‘All right, boys?’ asked Mr Smith, leaving his seat to stretch his legs.

‘Yes, Dad,’ they replied in unison.

Theo took the opportunity to sit next to his mother for a while. She was in the window seat one row behind, and just as he turned towards her, he saw a figure, wings spread, just above a small white cloud.

‘Of course they have wings; otherwise, how would they be flying?’ Theo exclaimed.

‘Who has wings? What are you talking about, Theo?’ asked his mum. She surveyed the vista through the window but told him that she could see nothing out of the ordinary. She ruffled her son’s unruly mop of fair, curly hair and said, ‘I really do think you should try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day, and you must be very tired.’

Theo was about to point out that all days were the same length, but his father returned just then, so he went back to his own seat and rummaged around in his backpack for his telescope. Peering through it, he could no longer see anything and he kept tutting, which annoyed Leon, who rolled his eyes and said,

‘Are you still looking for people walking on clouds? You cannot be serious, Theo. Even you must know that it’s a physical impossibility.’

Unperturbed, Theo kept on scanning the sky through the telescope until the humanoids came back into view. They were all now holding bows and arrows which they were using to shoot upwards at a black cloud just above them. They were a long way off, so their faces were indistinct, but from where he was sitting, they looked rather like those angels on Christmas cards—except for the weapons.

Theo then focused his attention on the dark cloud at the higher level, and the more he peered, the more it looked like a huge cage full of birds—nothing else, just birds of all shapes and sizes. They were flapping about trying to escape the arrows, or were they jumping on them, trying to send them back to where they had come from? It was difficult to tell at that distance, and then all activity in the clouds abruptly ceased. It was as though peace had been declared.

The whole scenario reminded Theo of a play he had seen in Athens the previous year, written by an ancient Greek called Aristophanes. He liked that sort of thing, even though the stone seating in the ancient amphitheatres was very uncomfortable, but Leon could not see the point. He had spent the full duration of the play texting friends on his mobile phone.

The battle in the sky was not a figment of Theo’s overactive imagination, as Leon and his mother suspected. He really had seen it all, thanks to his excellent vision. The optometrist had said that his vision was better than 20/20, and as Theo had later told Leon, ‘That must be good because Mum was very pleased and said what a nice lady she was.’

Leon was myopic and was supposed to wear glasses, but he did not like to, and they were usually in his pocket, sometimes smashed to smithereens.

‘Go on, Leon. Put your glasses on and have another look at that cloud,’ beseeched Theo.

Big brother, however, was much too engrossed in his latest epistle to his girlfriend and was not about to waste any more time humouring Theo, but it was his loss, as we shall see.

The aeroplane was gradually losing height now, and the captain announced that they were passing Mount Olympus, saying that it could be seen from the left side of the plane, but of course, they were on the right.

‘I must see this,’ said Theo, trying to climb over his brother—carefully so as not to disturb him—to get to the other side. He was almost over when his foot caught the corner of the computer and sent it flying, apparently deleting the letter that Leon was planning to email as soon as he could.

Leon was clearly furious, and sweeping back the curtain of longish brown hair that was always falling over his left eye, he shouted, ‘Look what you’ve done! You’ve probably broken the laptop, and my letter’s gone for sure.’

‘I expect it was identical to the last ten, so what’s the big deal?’ said Theo.

Leon was incensed and absolutely refused to look out the window again, but by that time, the scene had disappeared from view anyway.

The captain’s voice came over the intercom again: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to make an unscheduled landing, but there is no cause for alarm. The front of the aircraft seems to have caught a net of some sort, and I think it would be wise to remove it as soon as possible. Please be seated and remain calm. It shouldn’t take long.’

‘Caught a net! What on earth would a net be doing up here? Do you believe him, Leon? Do you think it’s more serious and he’s not saying?’

‘How should I know? And we’re not on Earth, are we? And do belt up,’ said Leon, handing him the buckle.

As the plane landed, it was obvious to anyone paying attention that something was very wrong: it was pitch black outside, and there were no signs, no stars, and no moon.

‘I think there’s a power cut or something. Where do you think we are, Leon?’

Not bothering to look up, Leon said, ‘Very funny! Greece, of course.’

Most people still had their blinds down against the brilliant sunshine of a few minutes ago and had not even noticed that it was now dark outside.

Theo looked at his watch. They had left Heathrow at nine that morning and had been travelling for about three hours, so why was it dark outside? Even allowing for the two-hour difference travelling east and changing longitude, it was still just after two in the afternoon, so he was stumped for an explanation. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, out of the window he could make out a few figures, probably ground staff. They had the same look about them as the people in the clouds . . . but it wasn’t possible, was it?

‘What do you know about clouds?’ Theo asked his brother.

‘Apart from the fact that they are made up of water vapour, nothing much, but we can look it up on the Internet when we get to the hotel,’ was the reply.

Leon liked to do that sort of thing, and there was not much that he liked to do without female company. He would tap a few keys on his laptop and become a fount of knowledge.

At thirty thousand feet, they had been flying higher than any of the clouds. One only had to look out the window to see that, but where had they landed? Theo wondered.

He left his seat and went to the service area, or galley, of the aeroplane, where the door was now open and the stairs lowered. Theo desperately wanted to see a member of the ground staff at close quarters, so he waited until everyone was busy and crept to the door. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder,

‘Back to your seat, young man,’ said a stern voice.

Theo looked up and saw the attractive flight attendant with neat brown hair and huge brown eyes looking down at him. She stared into his big blue ones as if trying to look cross, but not many people could stay cross with the angelic-looking Theo for very long.

‘I just wanted to see where we are. It’s so dark outside,’ blurted Theo.

‘Yes, it is. Back to your seat,’ she insisted, pushing him towards it.

Theo was determined, however, and as soon as her back was turned, he made a dash for the door again. Nobody saw him this time, so he ran down the steps and found himself treading on some soft white stuff. He looked down at his feet, but they had disappeared.

He wriggled his toes. They were there all right, but he could not see them. He bent down to remove whatever it was covering them, but his hand also disappeared. He pulled it back quickly, gripped with fear.

Don’t be silly; it’s just mist, he told himself.

He could see several people . . . all dressed in the same strange outfits: white calf-length tunics with blue cloaks over the top. At first, he thought that they all looked like angry children, but as he looked closer, he realized that it was not so much anger as sadness . . . or was it pain? It was as though some tragedy had befallen them all. Theo wanted to talk to one of them and find out why, but they were standing around in groups, and although they looked harmless enough, he was afraid to approach them.

The whole affair was becoming more bizarre—no, scary—by the minute. Although it was the middle of July, it was extremely cold. As Theo ran about trying to keep warm, he caught sight of something blue in a completely grey vista. He picked up the object and was delighted to find that it was a cloak, part of someone’s uniform. He put it on and immediately felt warmer; the lining was made of soft feathers so it was bulky but warm. A chubby-cheeked chap appeared and, without looking directly at him, started to talk. At first, Theo could not understand a word he was saying, but then it gradually dawned on him that he was being addressed in ancient Greek! He had studied it for two years at school because he thought it was cool to learn a dead language, and although he had done quite well at it, he was no expert.

As he concentrated, he understood the odd word here and there and guessed at some of the words in between. He had been greeted with ‘Chaire o phile’—or, loosely translated, ‘Hello, my friend’—and it became a little easier once he realized which language to tune into.

‘Chaire,’ Theo responded, but then it became more difficult again.

The stranger seemed to be complaining about the big silver bird. They had seen many of them fly past, but none had actually landed before. He was worried in case the people in it were enemies; perhaps they were Trojans, seeking revenge for the wooden horse that had brought about the destruction of Troy. At first, Theo thought that he was joking and was about to laugh, but he immediately realized that the comment was deadly serious, so he made no reply but stared at the stranger in astonishment.

Impulsively Theo said, ‘Why don’t you ask the people in the aeroplane for help? They’re not armed, so they have not come to cause trouble.’

That was when the bizarre creature looked at Theo for the first time, his blue eyes boring into Theo’s. Calmly, he said, ‘You’re one of them,’ and with a swift movement of his hands, he pushed back his cloak, which immediately turned into wings. This action also revealed a quiver full of arrows and a bow, which he now grabbed. Although Theo was rather taken aback and more than a little scared, he was smaller and quicker than the other guy and dived towards him, grabbing for the bow. They were both pulling at it with all their strength when the stranger suddenly let go.

‘Please don’t break it. It’s all I have!’ he cried.

Theo quickly regained his cool and was about to give the bow back when he looked up to find that he was surrounded by several more winged archers, all with their bows primed, arrows aimed straight at him. Theo was paralyzed with fear; the bow was still in his hand, frozen in mid-air. He closed his eyes tightly, expecting the worst.

‘Stop!’ shouted the archer to whom the bow belonged. ‘Don’t shoot. He was about to give it back to me. Let’s hear what he has to say for himself.’

Theo opened his eyes to see that the danger had passed, and with a sigh of relief, he returned the bow to its owner.

One of the newcomers asked, ‘Who are you? Did you arrive in the big bird? Why are you here?’

Theo understood the questions. Providing the answers would be a little more difficult, but he tried his best. ‘Yes, I am one of them. My name is Theo, and I want to help. I can see that you are in trouble.’

At this, the strangers introduced themselves, mostly with ancient Greek names that Theo had only previously ever seen in books. Then, with his scant ancient Greek and much gesticulating, Theo managed to make them understand that he had seen a battle in the sky and wanted to know if there was any connection with this place. He was still not sure where they had landed, but it was no airport. The winged archers refused to communicate any further until Theo tried one final question.

‘So where are we, then? Greece cannot be so cold and misty in the summer.’

With little more prompting, Themistos, the stranger Theo had first approached, began to relate a story that filled Theo with awe and amazement. Had it not been for Mrs Lander’s classical civilization classes, he would never have believed any of it and would certainly never have been able to relate to it.

Chapter 2

The Strangers’ Tale, July AD 2004

‘Well, originally we are all from Dendropolis, but we are here because we stoned the birds . . . ,’ Themistos began, his friends murmuring Theo knew not what.

‘Where’s Dendropolis? Geography’s not my best subject.’

‘It’s a town north of Athens,’ said the stranger.

The distances he was trying to convey were vague, and Theo could not understand until he was told that travelling south on foot, it would take about six days to reach Athens, and travelling west, it would take about five days to reach the oracle at Delphi. On mention of the oracle, the strangers all went into a sort of trance, chanting prayers in which they collectively thanked the gods Artemis and Apollo and begged the forgiveness of Athena. Theo thought that they were larking about, but when they came out of the trance, there was absolutely no sign of mirth from any of them.

The stranger continued his tale, and although Theo listened intently, he realized that his two years of learning were proving highly inadequate for such a task. Themistos was still earnestly trying to explain the position of Dendropolis.

‘The sanctuary of Zeus at Olympia is a lot farther. As a small boy, I often went there with my father to consult the oracle on family matters and to give thanks and sacrifice to great Zeus.’

Nostalgic memories of his childhood clearly came flooding back to him, and he started to recount how one summer when he was there with his father, a running race had taken place in which athletes from all over Greece had participated.

‘My father and I stayed on to support the participant from Dendropolis, but the opposition was formidable, and the race was won by Koroibos, a cook from Elis, a town near Olympia.

‘The great Heracles had won the first race ever to be run there a few years previously, and to commemorate the occasion, he decreed that the race should be run every four summers. He built the first stadium at Olympia with the help of his sister, the goddess Athena, to honour their father, Zeus.’

Once again, the strangers all started chanting prayers, and although Theo found it disconcerting, he waited patiently for the story to continue.

‘It was considered a great honour to participate, and every young man dreamed of doing so—none more so than my humble self—but it was not to be. As a child, I once sneaked into the temple and watched the winner receive a crown made of branches from the wild olive tree sacred to Zeus, god of the race . . .’

It is well known that the winner always received his reward in the temple of Hera in those days, and that it was just a simple crown and the glory of winning, but Theo could not believe his ears.

‘I don’t believe you. You must be joking! Are you really trying to tell me that