Once upon a time in Sparta

The laughter of the young women echoed between the thick stone walls, swirling lightly in the air.

The poet is half lying on a couch covered with snow-white thick wool, and the golden basket on the small table contains all kinds of sweet fruits, and there are also rainbow-like flowers and bay leaf crowns.The maidservants surround him like nymphs accompanying a god, sitting or lying down.

He held out his hand, and at once a maid courteously put a golden goblet into his hand.His other hand rested on the lyre. The body of the lyre was cedar wood from Lebanon, with golden slender strings on it. When it was touched, it made a vibrato, light and ethereal, as if light was jumping among countless ice cubes.

They sang, danced and laughed with the sound of the piano.Long hair fluttering, skirts fluttering.

Suddenly the door opened and Castor rushed in.

The poet raised his hand so that the body that almost crashed into his arms would not spill the wine.

"what happened?"

"I have something to show you," Castor said, grabbing the poet's other hand, standing up and trying to drag the poet out.

It was a beautiful horse, high-legged and narrow-faced, with a sleek coat.It runs fast and steady at first glance, and is very smart.

"They bought it from Thrace, isn't it good?"

"It's pretty good," said the poet.

"Do you like it? Give it to you."

"You know I don't need it, Castor."

"Those women like you very much." Castor suddenly changed the topic, "How did you make them fall in love with you?"

The poet laughed.

"They love me because, facing me, they lose all earthly identity and its burdens, and lighten the soul. That's not love, Castor. They love me as you love me. "

Castor gently stroked the smooth and neat mane of the horse.After a while, his voice sounded faintly.

"How do you know I feel the same as them?"

The poet stroked his hair understandingly.

"It turns out that the little boy has grown up."

The cold wrist was held.

"I was serious."

The horse shook its ears, lowered its head and gnawed the grass nonchalantly.A butterfly with colorful front wings and bright red rear wings holds the tip of a grass blade and spreads its wings.The wind blows from the wilderness.

"You are so beautiful and dazzling." Castor went on to himself. "I don't know if you yourself realize that strange attraction you have for other people. You tell so many stories about love that I think I can tell."

The poet still has that gentle and tolerant smile on his face.

"You don't know."

"I'm more mature than you think. It started a long time ago. It's just that everyone treats me like a child." Castor has indeed grown very tall, and the boy's height is almost only a head lower than the poet's. "You have taught me many things. You could teach me many more. You have told many such stories."

The poet sighed, stroked Castor's face, and put it on his shoulder.

"But I'm different. Castor."

"What's the difference?!" the boy exclaimed. "Even God is like this. Isn't it?"

The poet was still smiling, but seemed helpless.

"Listen, Castor. As for you, you will marry eminent wives to bear excellent offspring for yourself, sleep with whomever suits you for pleasure, and love many. Your soul and body The joy you get is separate, and even if there is a connection, it is only what you want to add. But it is different for me. I can only get the feeling of life, no matter what kind of joy, from the person I love. He is not Any one person among all beings is very, very special to me. And it is determined from the beginning. This is even more different from you who can freely choose. And I am always myself, so there is no desire to continue My own reproduction will not become other life and will, and continue to exist in the world through the flesh and blood of the body. Do you understand this?"

"I don't understand at all." The boy said with tears. "When you don't want me to understand, you will use this kind of words to perfuse me."

"I've never been able to tell a lie, Castor."

"Castor, what happened?"

Since just now, Castor has curled up in the corner of the bed without saying a word.Polydoces felt a tightness in his chest, his heart kept beating heavily, oppressed like the sky before a storm.

"Castor? Tell me?" He lowered his voice, moved his body over, and gently hugged his younger brother, noticing that the latter's body was shaking slightly.

"It's okay, no matter what happens, I will protect you." He comforted softly.

Despite being twins, people say they have different fathers.And that's true, because it's all too obvious.

For the nominal father Zeus, Polydoces did not have any feelings.Even if that is the father of gods, the king of gods.To him, it is just an invisible existence that needs to be contacted by prayer and sacrificial imagination.After all, he lived among mortals, and lived the lives of mortals.Although at the same time he could feel the influence of that invisible father all the time.He is too different from ordinary people, too outstanding, so that he and others can clearly realize that he is not a race at all.And the weather can also rain or sweep away the rain and turn it into a clear sky according to his prayers.He himself is the proof of the father.

He had never met the paternal relatives, the gods who were theoretically his brothers and sisters.And using such words to associate him with it seems too ridiculous.He is the son of Zeus, and only the son of Zeus, but not the brother of those gods.Including Zeus himself, looking at his identity, he must be a mortal, not a son.The pleasure-gods of happiness may occasionally treat them with pampering, a consumable of fleeting favourites, but that's about it.The other sons of Zeus were complete strangers.In a way, the most noble bloodline is also cold, as if it does not exist.

His real relatives are only matrilineal, a mortal family.I don't know why, but Helen and Clytemnestra, being sisters, seem to be creatures from another world, and they don't get along well.

Only Castor.

People wanted to separate him from Castor.But he is obsessed with the title of Gemini, trying to find their common and intimacy, wanting to love so that he will not fall into complete loneliness in the world.

Castor was melancholy.He knew it was because his light was so strong that his younger brother was hurt.The strongest feeling that the identity of a demigod brought him was the kind of relaxation and love that can only be brought about by the huge racial gap.He tried his best to smooth and ignore those things, after all, he existed in a completely mortal posture now, and wanted Castor to let go of those external things.But he was wrong.He doesn't really know Castor very well, but loves him nonetheless.Although it will be a long, long time before he discovers this.

Unfortunately, despite his best wishes, they were never twins with a soul-to-heart connection.

But in the present case, maybe he does know who could make Castor so sad.

"Is that person?" He asked, he likes to use this kind of referential vocabulary to talk to Castor, which makes him feel very familiar with Castor.

He felt the head in his arms nod, and then there was a suppressed sob, like Castor's when he was a child.His heart tightened immediately.

"What did he do to you?" he asked softly.Castor didn't answer.It made him feel overwhelmed.When he asked the third time, Castor trembled like a leaf on a branch in a strong wind, and burst into tears.

"He doesn't want me close to him at all! He doesn't like me at all!"

Hearing this answer, Polydoces was relieved, he was relieved and at the same time joy flowed.

"It's nothing serious," said Polydoces reassuringly. "Then don't think about it."

That existence is too dangerous, Castor.You shouldn't be so infatuated with him, close to him.

There were slight noises in the darkness.

"Polydoces, what's the matter?"

The voice of the poet is not sleepy, and it seems that he can see through the darkness and know directly who the unexpected visitor is.

"Who are you? Why did you come to Sparta?" Polydoces asked softly.

"It's just a bard." The other party replied calmly.

"Then I put the question in another way. What are you?" said Polydoces. "When that woman committed suicide, I saw the darkness on your body, those shadows that swept away all the light, and flew away. Are you a god who came to monitor our actions?"

"I am other beings. Polydoces." The poet replied in the darkness, the shadows were so thick that Polydoces could not see the square at all.The room was extraordinarily dark, and he could easily see the realities covered by the night.But now, he can only see darkness, as thick as a thick fog. "Don't worry, I won't do anything to you."

"who are you?"

"You'd better not know," said the voice in the darkness, "because if you know, nothing will change. Prayers and sacrifices are useless. Knowing my name will only cast a shadow over your joy, and you will lose your life." The source of the taint those gleams. Know when the day comes, so that you will not fear me. Polydoces."

"I am not afraid of you," said Polydoces stiffly.

The voice laughed.

"But you do have something to be afraid of, don't you?"

Polydoces hugged Castor, gently following his twitching back.Recalling the conversation between them on the first night when the original poet came.

He does have things to fear.He saw Castor getting further away from him and getting closer to the man.He was trembling with fear, his keen intuition told him.The poet, who seemed cheerful and harmless, was but a mask.And he absolutely didn't want to know what was actually wrapped in it.

"That's all. Stay away from that man, Castor," he murmured. "He's too dangerous."

At the same time, he remembered another sentence that the man said.

Castor likes me because Castor is the son of man.And you hate me because you are the Son of God.Dear Polydoces.

Polydoces thought a lot about this sentence, but he never understood what the man really wanted to say:

What is happening now is not about love and hate in the usual sense, but about instinct.

Meanwhile, the poet was thinking about Castor.

"Is this the first time you've cried since you came out to play this time?"

A soft voice said that reality began to distort and blur, as if the colors of a painting were blown away by water vapor.

"I never pay attention to such things," replied the poet, grasping a white hand that appeared out of nowhere, so similar to his own that it seemed to be a left and right hand.

"I'm not blaming you." Another hand also appeared, caressing the poet's cheek, gently scratching his neck like a cat. "I'm just reminding you. Maybe you'll have to go somewhere else."

"Yes." The poet said indifferently, and then protested. "It's obviously not my fault."

"Of course." Warm lips fell on the poet's forehead, and the man emerged from the void, and reality blurred into void. "No one should ever blame you."

"However, there are indeed some interesting things about this pair of twins. That Castor is actually more strange than it looks."

"You want to collect him?"

"No. I just want to know how it will develop. Also, what is collection? I have no such interest, it's just the wishes of the dead. Do you have any strange misunderstandings about me?"

"My fault. I made you angry by saying the wrong thing. Don't be unhappy." The man lay down beside the poet, tracing his face with his fingertips. "After all, I can't fully know your thoughts, your soul. So if I get it wrong, be sure to tell me, and let me have a chance to correct you and understand you better. Okay?"