and called Kronos all kinds of unflattering names.
“RO-O-CCCKY!” she wailed. “NO-O-O-O-O-O-O!”
Kronos started to get a bad stomachache.
“That kid was filling,” he complained. “What have you been feeding him?”
“Why should you care?” Rhea wailed. “I will never have another child again!”
That was okay with Kronos. He was stuffed.
Rhea ran screaming out of the throne room, and he didn’t try to stop her.
Eventually, things quieted down in the palace. Kronos was now convinced he had thwarted the curse of Ouranos. No way could his children displace him, since he knew exactly where they all were. He was the king of the cosmos and would never be overthrown!
Meanwhile, Rhea visited Mount Ida whenever she could. Her baby boy began to grow up, and Rhea made sure he heard lots of bedtime stories about his horrible father and his five undigested siblings who were just waiting to be rescued from Kronos’s gut.
So you know that when Zeus comes of age, there’s going to be a father-son smackdown of epic proportions. If you want a “happily ever after” ending for Kronos and his Titans, I would stop reading now. Because in the next chapter, Zeus goes nuclear.
THE OLYMPIANS BASH SOME HEADS
ZEUS HAD A GOOD CHILDHOOD ON MOUNT IDA. He spent his days romping around the countryside with nymphs and satyrs, learning to fight with his loud friends the Kouretes, eating his fill of honey and magical goat milk (yum!), and of course never going to school, because school hadn’t been invented yet.
By the time he was a young adult god, he had grown into a good-looking dude—all tan and ripped from his time in the forest and at the beach. He had short black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes as blue as the sky, though they could cloud over very fast when he got angry.
One day his mom, Rhea, came to visit on her chariot pulled by lions.
“Zeus,” she said, “you need a summer job.”
Zeus scratched his beard. He liked the word summer. He wasn’t so sure about the word job. “What did you have in mind?”
Rhea’s eyes gleamed. She had been planning her revenge on Kronos for a long time. Now, looking at her son—so confident, strong, and handsome—she knew the time had come.
“There’s an opening at the palace for a cupbearer,” she said.
“But I have no experience bearing cups,” Zeus said.
“It’s easy,” Rhea promised. “Whenever King Kronos asks for a drink, you bring it to him. The pay isn’t great, but the job has good side benefits, such as overthrowing your father and becoming lord of the cosmos.”
“I’m down with that,” Zeus said. “But won’t Kronos recognize me as a god?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Rhea said. “Your siblings have survived in Kronos’s gut all these years and, like you, they’re fully grown by now. That means they must have the power to change their size and shape. You should have that power, too. See if you can make yourself appear less godly, more…Titan-ish.”
Zeus considered that. He had already discovered his ability to change shape. Once, he’d scared his caretaker nymphs by transforming into a bear. Another time he’d won a footrace with some satyrs by transforming into a wolf. The satyrs claimed he’d cheated, but he totally hadn’t. It was a footrace. Wolves ran on their feet. It’s not like he’d turned into an eagle (which he could also do).
The only Titan that Zeus had ever seen up close was his mother, but he knew Titans were generally bigger than he was. They didn’t radiate power the way he did. They gave off a slightly different vibe—more violent and rougher around the edges. He imagined himself as a Titan. When he opened his eyes, he was taller than his mom for the first time. He felt as if he’d slept badly after a hard day strangling his enemies.
“Well done!” Rhea said. “Now, let’s go to your job interview.”
When Zeus saw Mount Othrys for the first time, his jaw dropped. The palace was huge. Its gleaming black towers rose into the clouds like greedy fingers grasping for the stars.
The fortress was meant to inspire fear. Zeus understood that immediately. But it also seemed lonely and dismal—not a fun place to be king. Zeus decided that if he ever got his own crib, it would be much cooler than Othrys. He wouldn’t go so heavy on the whole “Lord of Darkness” look. His palace would be brilliant, blinding white.
One thing at a time, he told himself. I have to bear cups