“So how did Zeus get her to agree?” Cassie asked.
“According to the overlord myth,” Erik explained, “when he wasn’t getting anywhere courting her, he disguised himself as a rain-soaked cuckoo. After she picked up the poor little birdie to take care of it, Zeus changed back into his old self and took care of business. Once he’d raped her, Hera was shamed into marrying him.”
“What a prince,” Cassie commented acidly.
“Zeus had quite a reputation as a seducer and/or rapist,” Griffin said. “The conventional explanation is that as classical mythology evolved, the new deity was symbolically appropriating the original goddesses of the conquered peoples and incorporating them into the overlord pantheon.” He paused. “But the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to believe that Zeus’s antics mirrored what was actually taking place during the Kurgan invasions. Since the intruders tended to be roving bands of armed males on horseback, the quickest way to secure a local bride was through abduction and rape. In fact, the practice of bride abduction still occurs in the steppe nations today. Of course, nowadays the preferred getaway vehicle is an automobile rather than a horse.”
“Please tell me you’re joking about that.” Cassie was incredulous.
Griffin’s voice was grim. “I wish I were. Quaint local custom, don’t you think? Not coincidentally, many of the countries that still practice this atrocity are located in the region where the horse was first domesticated and where Kurgan culture originated. The Eurasian steppes. There does appear to be a correlation between bride abduction and a fast horse.”
Cassie was about to badger him with several more questions when the Jeep came to an abrupt halt.
“We made it,” Fred announced. “And in one piece which, all things considered, is a bonus.”
His passengers climbed out of the vehicle and dusted themselves off. Cassie shook her hair to dislodge particles of grit. The sun had risen high enough to make her notice the mid-day heat.
“Does it ever rain here?” she asked their guide.
Fred shook his head. “Not much at this time of year. Hot and dry is the weather forecast for the next couple of months.” He pointed off in the direction of a narrow dirt trail that cut through the forest. “We have to walk the rest of the way to the calendar stones.”
The group followed him wordlessly as the path twisted ever upward through the dim pines. After about a ten-minute hike they passed the tree line. The pines gave way to windswept earth covered with a thin layer of scrubby grass and the occasional boulder. They continued to walk to the top of a rise where they finally paused to catch their breath.
Cassie looked off into the distance at the panorama spread out before her. She could see a series of mountain peaks running off in a straight line to the east. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “What a view.”
“It’s pretty impressive,” Fred agreed.
“Oh, I say!” Griffin exclaimed. His attention was focused on a section of hillside below the rise where they were standing. The ground leveled out into a small plateau. On this table of land, a series of stones had been arranged into a ring. The boulders were all approximately eight feet high and had been shaped into rectangles of a uniform thickness. Massive crosspieces rested across the tops of several of them. Some of the stones contained relief carvings of animals or birds and one held the figure of a human female. They had once been spaced evenly though time had marred the original symmetry. Some of the crosspieces had cracked and fallen to the ground. A few of the base stones leaned at odd angles, and several had toppled or been pushed over. Still, the ring shape was unmistakable.
“This is extraordinary!” The scrivener scurried down the hill until he stood in the middle of the henge which was strewn with boulders, broken rock, and weeds. To all appearances, the place had been abandoned for millennia.
The other three caught up with him and began to examine the formations, some of which ran almost to the edge of the plateau.
“Careful there,” Fred cautioned as Cassie moved dangerously close to the edge.
She had been so intent on examining a megalith that she’d paid no attention to her precarious position. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Yikes!” she exclaimed as a loose rock under her heel rolled down the decline and tumbled over the side.
Fred steadied her arm. “It’s a sheer drop of about a hundred feet off the edge.”
The other two men came to examine the cliff.
Cassie peered over the rim which dropped off a mere five feet from the base of one of the megaliths. “There’s a little ledge down there,” she noted.
The others looked to where she was pointing.
“Must be a great view for anybody who could get down there to sit on it,” Erik observed.
“Actually, there is a way down there,” Fred offered. “This cliff is honey-combed with hermit cells. You just can’t see them from up here.”
“Somebody held hermits prisoner here?” Cassie asked in disbelief.
“Not that kind of cell,” Griffin objected. “Early in the history of the Christian church, certain reclusive souls abandoned the world for a life of spiritual contemplation. Many of them took to the mountains and hollowed out caves where they could live and pray in peace.”
“But how could they get down there?” Cassie persisted. “Rope ladders?”
“There are tunnels through the mountainside,” Fred explained. “Most of them were natural cave formations that were excavated and extended over time. You have to know where to look, but I’ve explored a few. There are trails below the tree line that will lead you directly through the mountain and out to the hermit cells in this cliff. You just can’t get to them from up here.”
“Fascinating,” Griffin said. He took one more look over the edge of the cliff before retreating to observe a megalith several feet away.
The others
