Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Much to Philipp’s astonishment, the god—after springing such shocking news on him—disappeared. There was no flash—no noise whatsoever—he was simply gone.

“Well,” the boy thought to himself, “I guess that is that.”

It did ease his mind a bit—he was no longer going to be “stolen”. But a strange feeling welled up inside of him. He laughed. Could it be disappointment?

He didn’t have long to feel it. Violent popping assailed his senses, and he hunkered down—covering his head.

With a slighty-muted blast of light, Hermes was standing before him once again. His face seemed more haggard, and he let out a long, dry hacking cough.

“Where—“ the god asked hoarsely. “Oh, there you are—what are you doing down there?”

“I’m sorry,” said Philipp peevishly. “A little warning would be nice next time.”

Hermes shivered and wiped invisible spiderwebs from his traveling cloak. “When you’ve got to go, Sheepboy, you’ve got to go.” He coughed once again.

“It sounds like you’re about to catch your death of cold,” the boy asked.

“I doubt it,” said the deity—wringing nothingness out of his hat—and with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “The thing about being one of the Deathless Gods is that you can’t die.”

“It’s just an expression.”

“In fact, I doubt I can actually catch a cold,” Hermes continued. “It’s just every time I go into the Underworld, I get so empathetic toward those poor freezing souls that I force it on myself. It’s depressing.”

“Why the Underworld?”

“Another one of my illustrious duties!” said the god. “Every time someone steps on an asp or gets it into his head that’s he’s Heracles and tries to wrestle a lion, I get to take the parts that are still intact down to their eternal slightly-chilled fate.”

Phlipp let a sad half-smile work its way onto his face. The past was rising up in his mind.

“Don’t get me started on that creepy boatman, either.” Hermes shuddered.

“My father’s dead,” said Philipp quietly to no one in particular.

Hermes stared at him—his top lip clamping down on the other.

“He died in the war,” the boy continued—hopefully speaking more would end the awkwardness. “Mother and I held it all in when we heard the news. It was like a bad dream. She woke me up that night—we came down to the river and dug ourselves both a hole. We let our tears and cries fall in there. When we were done, we covered it up—and it was over. She said our grief was buried.”

The god was staring at him blankly.

The boy shook his head as if coming back from some faraway place and smiled timidly.

Hermes’ face had worked its way into disgust. “Well, that was depressing,” Hermes said.

Philipp was stunned.

“I was getting into a better mood—then you told me that story,” the god snorted. “You’re not going to be doing that all the time are you? If you are, I’m not so sure that I want to steal you.”

Philipp had to bite back tears. “I’m not too sure I want to be stolen if you’re going to be like that,” he cried angrily. “Why do you even want to steal me anyway?”

“I was told to,” Hermes said non-chalantly, “and that’s all I can tell you. But I do have to admit—I was expecting a bit more…”

“More what?” asked the boy—his anger still mounting.

”From you.” The god coughed. “The oracle said you were young—but I expected at least someone—taller—maybe a bit more intimidating—“

“Fine! I won’t let you steal me! I’m sorry that I’m so disappointing!”

“Don’t be sorry. You can’t help that you’re disappointing.” The god waved the thought away with his hand. “But you must come. You’re very clever for someone your age, you know—especially for a sheep boy—most of your kind just stand around and drool.”

“What were you even going to do with me after you had stolen me?” Philipp asked—somewhat surprised by the sudden compliment.

“Take you with me,” the god said, “to whatever place I might possibly be going.”

“Well, you didn’t even ask! That’s the rudest part. You were going to steal me whether I wanted to or not! What if I would have gone with you voluntarily?”

“What?” Hermes scratched his head. “I don’t know. That’s never happened before.”

“I wonder why,” said Philipp dryly and sighed. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“You mean it?” Hermes’s eyes lit up, and his cap flew up from the ground and fluttered down atop his head.

“Mean what?” The boy’s head was starting to hurt.

“You’re coming with me?” The god laughed—and started muttering happily to himself. “I didn’t even have to stick him in a sack or anything.”

“No, no, no.” Philipp laughed nervously. “I didn’t actually say I was coming—“

“You said, ‘You’ve got a lot to learn’,” said Hermes beaming at the shepherd boy. “If you’d said, ‘You have to learn a lot’ or ‘There’s a lot you need to know’, that would be different. But you said, ‘You’ve got a lot to learn’. Sounds like you want to teach me.”

“I—no—that’s not it at all.” His mind was reeling. “Plus, you’re a god. What could I teach you?”

Hermes shrugged. “I don’t know. You said it.”

“Besides, I—I can’t go. I have a mother.” He had almost forgotten about her.

“You mentioned that, but so do I—doesn’t stop me,” said the god.

“Yeah, but mine’s blind—and—and she’ll be worried if I don’t come home—she can take care of herself all right, but I earn—“
“Well, she sure can’t come with us!” Hermes interrupted. “If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s adult mortals! They take themselves so seriously!”

“I don’t want her to come with us—“

“Good.” Hermes continued undaunted. “There’s an easy solution to your situation—take a look at this.”

He pulled something forth from under his robe—most people would have calledl it a staff. In fact, if most people had seen it, they would have said it was a golden staff. But as Philipp quickly realized, its surface could not actually be seen.

Instead, the thing in Hermes’ hand looked more like light formed into the shape of a rod—from the base two snakes curled their way up the handle—and the wings of an eagle spread majestically at its head.

Hermes threw it lightly up and caught it. “Impressive, huh?”

“What is it?” said Philipp breathlessly. He had a sudden desire to go wherever this beautiful thing before him went.

“This,” the god said proudly, “is our ticket anywhere—any place, any time. The Kerykeion. This is why we don’t have to worry about your mother.”

“I—I don’t understand…”

“We’ll be back before we left,” said Hermes pointedly. “Time and space? They’re nothing to this guy. How did you think I made an entire trip to the Underworld in a minute?”

“You’re fast?” ”Not that fast,” Hermes spun the rod around and slipped back up under the folds of his cloak. “So let’s go—time is no object, but it’s still a terrible shame to waste it.”

“I would at least like to say goodbye to my mother.” Philipp’s mind had already agreed to go and forgot that his lips had not confirmed it.”Bad idea, Bad idea,” the god blurted out. He fumbled for a moment. “I mean—why? She’ll never know you’re gone.”

“But I will.”

“Look,” Hermes said—hovering irritably close to Philipp. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this—but we’re going on a secret trip here. If you go telling your mother where we’re going—it ceases to be a secret.”

“Okay,” said Philipp grudgingly. “But somebody needs to check on my lambs—“

The Messenger God had already pulled the glowing staff from under his garment.

The shepherd boy tried to stammer out some protest, but it died on his tongue.

He thrust the Kerykeion into Philipp’s face, and the shine from it filled his vision.

It could have been a trick of the eye, but he thought he saw the two snakes upon it begin to writhe and wriggle and the eagle wings start to flap. The whole thing began to spin slowly—then faster and faster.

He felt his knees grow weak. Popping came from all around.

The last thing he heard was Hermes cough and comment wryly: “I hope you don’t get sick easily.”