The tale of Hera Vol. 1.1 Chapter 2.3 - Wedding Gift for Thetis

The sword I had given her was as thin as a finger’s width, stretching much longer than the arm length of a goddess. The hilt of the sword was made of bronze, adorned with a ruby pendant. The blade, intricately polished and made of steel with a hint of elasticity, was carefully crafted. To prevent it from rusting, both edges were plated with silver.

It was sharper than any blade in this world, a sword that could cut through bronze armor or golden armor with ease.

However, no matter how fine a weapon it was, it was still a possession of the men. The male gods, warlike and competitive, might rush in with enthusiasm, trying to claim it for themselves in a show of strength. But for most of the goddesses, who were novices when it came to battles or physical contests, the majority of them seemed puzzled as to why I would offer such a gift to a bride on this joyful occasion. Their curiosity about my intentions left me somewhat reserved.

Thetis looked at me calmly, not swayed by public opinion, and seemed to be waiting for an explanation. I noticed her arm, holding the sword steady without trembling. While Hephaestus had feared that iron might be heavier than bronze, he had ultimately crafted a lightweight sword that a goddess could wield with a single arm effortlessly.

“Thetis.” 

I said with a smile.

“Initially, I had planned to create a garment for you. However, it turns out that the mother of the sea herself, Tethys, personally created you an attire. So, I thought I should prepare a different gift.”

I approached Thetis and placed my hand on her white fingers, which were holding the calf-skin wrapped sword. Then, I extended a second finger and pointed it towards her abdomen. Thetis’s eyes widened in surprise, as if asking how I knew.

“This gift is meant for your future child.” 

I said, gazing steadily into her eyes.

“If the child is a daughter, then sell this sword as a dowry for her marriage. In the human world, where such a weapon doesn’t exist, suitors for your daughter will use their entire fortune to possess this sword. However, if the child you bear is a son, give him this sword. By doing so, this blade will bring him splendid honor, as it will cut down foes and adversaries, elevating your son’s name. I promise to bestow glory upon your son in my name.”

“Ah, Lady Hera…”

Thetis, overcome with emotion, tightly grasped my hand. I had cautioned her earlier. The sword was sharp, so she should be careful not to cut herself. Thetis handed the sword to her sisters and returned to me, embracing me tightly.

“Thank you so much, Lady Hera.”

I felt her sobbing within my embrace, as if all the emotions she had held back until the wedding had suddenly surged forth in front of me.

Ignoring the perplexed looks from the goddesses who had been ogling the scene of Zeus’ wife and the woman Zeus loved embracing each other, I gently tapped Thetis’ slender back a few times. It was an effort to let out the sympathy I held for the unfortunate bride, forced into a marriage with a man she did not love, under Zeus’ command. 

Right now, I am not in a position to pity anyone.

“We should fix the bride’s makeup. Sisters of Thetis.”

Gently disentangling Thetis, who hadn’t stopped crying, I stepped back and gestured to the sea nymphs who had been waiting nearby, their anticipation perhaps stemming from a fear that I might split her in half as if I were cleaving a mountain in two.

Quickly, Hebe approached and stood by my side.

“Mother, your dress is a mess.”

She looked at my gown and held a clean cloth in her hand to wipe away the moisture.

“No need to worry, dear. It’ll dry quickly in the sunlight.” 

I said.

‘Then what am I going to do?’ Hebe, standing before me, seemed to ask with her eyes. After telling her that we’d meet once the feast began, I gestured toward her husband, Heracles, who she had been eagerly gazing at for a while. I motioned for her to go in his direction. Excitedly, without even realizing that one of her shoes had come off, Hebe dashed over to him.

“When will she grow up?”

I sighed.

Alone now among the trees, goddesses who had been seated approached one by one, offering their greetings respectfully. Even receiving such courteous treatment outside of Olympus made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. I exchanged brief glances with them and then turned my head, finding a quiet spot to remain until the feast began.

A neatly arranged pile of dry logs caught my eye, ready to be lit as an offering to the gods. Beside it, there were piles of goats – a hundred in number – along with two hundred oxen and various other offerings such as pigs, lambs, and wool, which would be used in the hecatomb. The air in that area was tainted with the pungent smell of animal waste from the livestock.

What about the altar area then? There, freshly plucked flowers for the day were placed in brown vases filled with cool water. It might have been more fragrant than the logs nearby, but it had a crucial flaw – it was located next to the groom’s side of the guests’ seating, where Heracles and King Peleus were engaged in a conversation. I wasn’t particularly eager to come face to face with my son-in-law on this supposedly joyous day.

Then, the seemingly more manageable spot would be the bride’s side of the guests. Unlike the groom’s side attended by mortals, the bride’s side was exclusively made up of Olympian gods and goddesses, creating an atmosphere that was prepared with a touch of formality. Seating was arranged according to rank, with thrones, some more ornate and others simpler, set in appropriate numbers.

At that spot, neither I nor Zeus had appeared yet, so the gods were freely taking their seats, engaging in lively discussions with close companions. Empty seats were noticeable at the edges. I might be able to conceal my identity as Hera by donning a robe and shrouding myself in a black mist. However, amidst everyone else openly revealing their statuses, if I were to sit alone, looking conspicuously out of place, I would undoubtedly raise suspicion.

Having found no suitable place to go, I sighed deeply and, feeling drained, instead took the opportunity to look around. I heard the dull sound of a hammer nearby. As I turned in that direction, I saw Hephaestus adjusting a makeshift structure he had set up for the feast, holding a wooden hammer. The Phthian carpenters brought by King Peleus were captivated, watching in awe as the god of blacksmiths personally worked on repairing the structure.

“He’s come all the way here and still hasn’t put down the hammer.”

I muttered as if in pity. 

 

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