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In the case of this particular adventure, she left all the thinking and maneuvering to Ere. Besides, she knew next to nothing about ancient Greece.
Instead, she looked around them and took in their surroundings, Chewie chuffing happily at her heels, sniffing excitedly at the air.
The village was in a relatively flat bowl-like basin at the bottom of hills and mountains that surrounded the tree-dotted plains from every direction. The tallest peak of the tallest mountain jutted into the sky, beyond the highest clouds, toward the north. She couldn’t see the tip of it, though she could tell that it was snow-capped.
Men and women wearing traditional Greek robes, tied off with belts and broaches, mingled through the streets. The different classes could be identified through their attire. Higher classes wore finer robes; lower classes and slaves wore faded or undyed, coarser clothing.
Women donned flowing gowns of various colors, finely woven and stitched together with intricate threads. Their long hair was styled in many different ways and adorned with flowers and jewels.
Young men sported short and longer hair, often tied back, braided or pulled away from their faces with headbands. Clean shaven. Men in their prime and older wore neatly-trimmed beards.
No beastly Neanderthals and apes could be seen, Divina sighed inwardly with relief. Instead, this place boasted plenty of clean-looking, handsome young men for her visual enjoyment.
And, lucky day! The style of the time allowed for the display of naked skin. Broad shoulders, strong arms, long, muscular legs galore.
She noticed that her own and her accompaniments’ outfits had all been conveniently altered to match the time and place of their new surroundings.
Fortunately, her natural style changed very little, only the material of the fabric. Instead of the light, airy silk she wore in the Celestial realm, her tunic was made of a thinly woven linen that breathed well in the hot climate. Happily, she got to keep her jewelry.
Ere’s tunic was shorter than hers, revealing his bare knees and calves, which were surprisingly lean and muscular, despite his slim build. Sorin’s tunic was similar. But the latter male was outfitted in soldiery gear with boots that rose to his kneecaps, protecting his shins, and a thin leather plate fitted over his massive chest.
It was all very civilized. The clothes, hairstyles and jewelry of the time bespoke of intricate artistry and a keen appreciation for beauty.
Divina could survive this place. Given enough experience, she might even relish her time spent on this serendipitous adventure.
Carpe diem!had always been her motto. What was the Greek equivalent?
And then she knew. Likely it was one of the gifts Fufu equipped them with while they traveled in this time and place. The better to blend in with the locals and navigate the foreign terrain.
Hóson zêis, phaínou. “While you live, shine.”
She liked this version even better than the Latin phrase. It captured her inclinations perfectly. This was why she never worried much about the future, nor dwelled in the past. It was also why she could never keep time to save her life.
She wanted to stretch every moment of the present to its fullest.
“…No one knew how the horn became detached from the goat,” Ere continued his musings, speaking as much to himself as to his fellow adventurers.
“Perhaps it happened when Amalthea died. Zeus made her hide into the protectiveaigisor armor for his daughter Athena, and put Amalthea herself into the sky as the star Capella.”
“Intriguing,” Divina murmured, stopping at a merchant stall to sniff a number of scented oils in small, ornamental jars.
“According to its namesake, the Cornucopia always overflowed with fruit, honey and grain. It was a symbol of good fortune and harvest. For the king who possessed it, his people would never go hungry.”
Divina moved on to the next stall, Ere and Sorin trailing closely behind.
“So, this horn doesn’t make sounds?” she asked out of a rare flare of curiosity.
Ere’s slightly scrunched brows showed his confusion at her query.
“You know,” she elaborated, “since we’re looking for the Song of Destiny. I just assumed that the horn is supposed to help make that song. If the Cornucopia isn’t an instrumental horn, maybe it’s not the one we’re looking for.”
The male blinked rapidly at her as if she’d just blown fairy dust into his eyes.
“That was a rather astute deduction,” he said bemusedly.
Divina shrugged one shoulder.
She had her moments. Often, without intending to.
