Dinner is on Me

1.

Your honor, should I start at the very beginning?

Yes, please do.

********

I strung the Golden strings of my Harp for what felt like the millionth time this evening. Was this party ever going to end or was I destined to sit on this bad excuse of a chair playing the same tune over and over again until even the very last godling had passed out in a wine induced coma?

I would have seriously given up these 400 B.C. jobs ages ago if only they didn't pay so well. These guys rewarded you in pure gold coins, their modern counterparts in expired Walmart gift cards. So, if it took wearing a bed sheet and strumming my Harp for eight hours straight to finally get my tuition together, hell then I'd do it!

Chronos travelers, like me, were all the rage these days and if you wanted to be anyone in Athenian society of the B.C.s, you better had some to show off at your parties. If you couldn't invite any, well, then you had to hire them, in the form of dancers, singers, musicians, cooks and so on. Ergo I was sitting here on a Friday night playing human jukebox at this guy's dinner party.

I gave the Harp a good whack and broke out into song, maybe this would make the last two conscious ones join their friends in sweet sweet alcoholic slumber and I could finally go home. Of course, I sang to them in English, since they loved the sound of this strange language. As they didn't understand a single word, it felt oh so much more exotic to them.
Not really in tune or on tempo anymore, I just sang whatever came to mind. Playing the lyre version of 'baby shark' nine times this evening had just drained me completely. Physically and emotionally.

"When is this ever going to end?"

"With watered down wine you'll never get drunk,"

I plucked the strings individually, each touch making me painfully aware of how raw the skin on my fingertips was,

"But then again who am I to judge,"

"I once drank a Bellini from a can,"

The older bearded guy's wine cup rolled out of his hands and clattered onto the hard marble floor.

"Also, if I don't leave in the next hour the portal will close,"

"And then shit will really hit the fan."

I watched as the very last guy's head lolled to the side and he collapsed on the small tufted pillow beside him, his limp hand pouring the remaining wine in his cup all over his toga.

I let my hand drop from the Harp, that had seriously taken them long enough.

Hardly a second later, the head housekeeper came shuffling into the dim party room with a small leather money pouch definitely meant for me. Without hesitation the short old man stuffed it into my hands and immediately started ushering me towards the door.

I resisted.

No way in hell was I being kicked out of here without getting at least a doggy bag of left-over dinner. The people here made incredibly good albeit unpasteurized goat cheese.

After an unsuccessful struggle on his side, he relented and tried it with words instead.

"You must go my dear, immediately," he said in (of course) Greek, "I have just heard from the neighbor, there have been to many clouds today. The temple will close early. If you do not leave now, you may not make it in time."

Well shit.

As it turned out he wasn't getting rid of me but was only trying to help. I clasped his hand in a sign of gratitude,

"Thank you, friend," I told him," May the gods look kindly upon you for doing me this favor," and then I high tailed it out of there.

No time to count the coins, let alone check if they were really gold, I ran through the open streets as fast as I could. I ran past the houses of Athens' wealthiest, past its bustling evening markets and seedy alleyways filled with dubious establishments. It was well into the night, but the citizens of Athens were quite a lively bunch and with the moon barely risen, the fun had only just begun. For me on the other hand, it was the beginning of a very possible nightmare. I ran until the cobbled road turned to dirt and my sandaled feet ached as much as my fingers.

The temple of Apollo that I so desperately was trying to reach, functioned as a portal to the present and was located at very edge of the city. Its service relied heavily on the amount of sun received during the day and in summer they pretty much guaranteed unlimited travel up until 2 a.m. at night. Still occasionally it did close early like today. Unlike on weekdays though, it didn't just reopen tomorrow morning. No missing tonight meant waiting the whole weekend until Monday.

I mustered what little strength I had left and began hiking up the hillside towards the temple. There was no way I was staying in B.C. for the entire weekend, especially with all the mystical and godly stuff freely on the loose.

This was not good centuries for a nymph like me. The modern age was a much better place, with significantly less unwanted pregnancies, and overall more equality and order that the mythological world had really benefitted from. Of course, visiting the Golden age could still be fun and for some it was necessary, but personally I wasn't a fan. If I didn't need the money, I wouldn't come.

When the temple came into sight, I realized I may not have much of a choice anymore. Some torches were still lit but I could tell by the lack of intensity that the main brazier had already been extinguished. My steps quickened as panic started to bubble up inside me.

I stumbled up the steps of the temple, my legs barely holding me upright at this point. I had pushed myself too hard and yet it still hadn't been enough. The place was entirely deserted, the only sound I heard were my own erratic breathing.

The soft leather of my sandals created an echo as I half-heartedly approached the empty brazier. Giant and entirely out of bronze, it usually held the crimson flame of Apollo, the one that fed off the sun and let people like me travel through time. The flame that was now missing.

I reached in and grabbed a handful of ash. I could feel remaining warmth as I let it run through my fingers. The fire could not have been extinguished too long ago. The priestesses would have left immediately after the flame died and this place didn't need to be guarded at night. Apollo himself took good care of that. I had seen him from afar at a festival on Olympus once and he looked like an overall nice guy, but not exactly someone who you wanted to cross.

The last bit of strength holding me up finally dissipated and I fell to my knees, my harp clattering on the floor beside me. A gust of wind rushed in between the pillars and in my thin toga, I shivered. Only at night could a temple of Apollo be so cold and dark like it was now.
I rested my forehead on the cool metal of the brazier and closed my eyes, wishing I could just go back home.

But I couldn't.

I had been too late and now I was stuck here.