During my years at the Collegium Magicum on Mount Olympus, I had the opportunity to get to know many of the gods and goddesses in residence. Some were simple souls who only wanted to perform their duties to the best of their abilities. Others were so complex that you never really knew what was going to motivate them day to day. And then there were a handful who defied any explication whatsoever.
One such as these was the God of War himself, Ares Enyalios. Now, most people know him as bloodlust personified and assume that he was a raging lunatic who could not be reasoned with. What people don’t know was that he didn’t start this way as a child. The Ares I got to know was a very intelligent, very handsome youth who had a great interest in the arts and an eye for beautiful things. It wasn’t until his later years that he began to fly into those patented rages. Of course, he stopped getting many dinner invitations after that, I don’t mind telling you.
I remember once, while he was still young and idealistic, he and I were sitting in a grotto in one of Zeus’ “Members Only” clubs where only the most beautiful were allowed entry. We were looking down into a submerged swimming pool, watching varied gods, goddesses, and demigods splashing around and enjoying each others’ company. Ares was looking at Aphrodite swimming with some of her attendants while I was trading coy glances with the beautiful twin boys of Poseidon, Pelias and Neleus. Wearing only gauzy white thongs, I could clearly see that the boys had something naughty on their minds, the rascals.
“Tell me, Magister”, he said, for that was my title at the time, “of what purpose is war?”
I looked over at him in surprise, not sure what he meant. “I am sorry, my dear boy,” I responded, “but I don’t understand your question.”
At my puzzlement, the young Ares said, “What I mean is, how does war contribute to the development or maintenance of society?”
Thinking for a moment, I told him that I didn’t think it did. War is, by nature, destructive and not constructive. One does not build with war; one does not nurture culture with war; one does not move forward with war. Rather, I told him, the societies, victor and victim both, will have taken steps backward once the dust of war was settled.
Ares frowned at this. I could tell that he was uncomfortable with my response. “But then, what purpose do I serve, if I am to be the God of War? If as a God, I am charged with watching over the mortals of earth, how can I also be encouraging them to destroy each other and their own culture? Shouldn’t I be helping man to move forward and not back?”
I, of course, knew the answer to that. Ares’ task had been assigned to him by Zeus, and Zeus’ ultimate goal was to keep mankind dependent upon the gods. It didn’t suit Zeus’ purpose for mankind to develop to the point of self reliance, or to develop great learning, because that would endanger the gods’ existence. As long as man saw events as random and violent, he would continue to look to the gods for help. Once man realized he was in charge of his own destiny, the days of the Olympians would be numbered. And so, Ares’ task, then, was to keep mankind at the level of superstitious savages.
But I couldn’t tell him that. If that knowledge got out, there were several gods who would balk at their duties. There was even a chance that those gods would stage a general revolt against Zeus and his partners in crime, Poseidon and Hades. No, if that secret were to get out, all of the gods could very well wage war upon each other, dragging their mortal followers in with them to fight battle after bloody battle. And who wins there?
So, I put my arm around Ares’ broad shoulders and squeezed him lightly, my other hand ruffling his hair. I then acted as if I was going to respond, but then frowned at something I a saw. Reaching over, I produced a bright cardinal, acting as if it had been nesting behind his ear. Letting out a roar of boyish laughter, Ares grabbed the bird out of my hand and began to stroke it with his finger.
I knew I was distracting him with simple magic tricks and was not confronting his concerns. Luckily for me, Ares was still young enough to be amused with these antics, but his youth wouldn’t last forever. Soon he would grow into an adult and would demand answers to his questions and solutions to his concerns. And what would happen then?
“You’re tricks are always the best, Magister Mandragora!” he crowed in delight. “You are the best guardian I could have!”
I flushed guiltily at his expression of trust and appreciation. Was I really taking care of him by keeping secrets? Or was I conspiring to keep him a prisoner, a naïve child, an unknowing lackey for those with more guile than he? I just wanted to keep him safe.
I knew I didn’t dare ever let him know the truth. Ares had a burgeoning sense of justice that I was certain would make him confront mankinds’ oppressors, and I also knew Zeus and the others had more than enough power to kill him if he caused them trouble. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I moved my hand back to the top of his head and began to allow a trickle of magic to flow into his thoughts, lulling his passion for justice to sleep and encouraging the lust for war to grow. I could sense that I was causing irrevocable change to his personality, but it was either that or let my beloved young charge feel the brunt of Zeus’ ire later on. I watched as his sweet and gentle eyes took on a steely glint, as his young lips moved from a smile to a twist of contempt, and I felt my heart cry out in protest.
Yes, I would maintain my silence and let him lead the mortals into battles. I would let him incite man to kill and maim, destroy and raze, just to keep my beloved boy safe from harm. And I felt like an accomplice to genocide.
War is hell.
Excerpt from The Memoirs of Dr Mandragora: From the Maudlin to the Macabre
