Clash of the Titans Read Online Free Page B

In his mind he saw the Kraken reluctantly return to its abyssal lair, once more to be shut in by Poseidon.
    It was done.
    Somewhere far below and away, far from ravaged Argos, a battered and seaworn wooden chest drifted on a calm evening sea.
    Eventually it grounded gently on a white sand beach. No storm raged here, no howling wind or monstrous shape of vengeance. A small boat, skillfully guided, could not have made a better landing. For a moment, nothing could be heard save the soft lullabies of wind and surf. Then the cry of a waking child rose above the lap of the advancing tide.
    Damp with the smell of his recently visited kingdom, Poseidon stood once again in the home of the gods. His expression was grim and it was clear to his fellow immortals that he wished to be elsewhere.
    "It is finished," he told the figure standing next to the flickering silhouette of the amphitheater. "Argos is punished and Danae and her child have been carried safely to the island of Seriphos."
    Zeus nodded approvingly. "A good choice."
    "I did not choose it," Poseidon muttered, distressed by the whole business. "The waves chose it. They have mind and will and direction of their own."
    "Nevertheless, it is a good place; its people kind and better than most men. It will serve. There let Danae and her child live safe and happy."
    "And what of Argos?" Hera asked bitterly. "What of its history and those who once faithfully worshiped the gods?"
    "Its history is one of murder and pillage and is best forgotten," Zeus replied angrily. "Let the men who live near its site look upon it from time to time and remember the wrath of the gods. Let them know that worship does not excuse evil. I want no such worshipers as lived in that accursed city. Let it thus remain."
    "For how long?"
    " 'How long'?" For the first time in a while, Zeus smiled. "You speak like a mortal, wife. What is time to us? It can be whatever we wish. A mortal day, no more here than the wink of an eye. Twenty years, one night of love. Time is the human tragedy. But to us it has no more meaning than shape, which we can alter at will and whim. I am surprised to hear you speak of it, Hera.
    "Aphrodite's beauty need never fade. Your hair need never turn to gray. But poor earthly man is in the grip of age the instant he is born. In the end he passes into the grim lands of the dead and the rule of my brother Hades and he is forgotten—nothing more than a shadow in a dream. I feel for poor man, trapped by the memory of Cronus."
    "At least he knows his destiny," Hera countered. "His boundaries are finite."
    "Would you then trade yours for his, sweet Hera?" Zeus chided her gently. "Would you abandon immortality?"
    "No. But sometimes I wish I had mankind's certainty."
    "About what? About death?"
    "No. About purpose. Man always seems to have purpose. We have only time." She eyed him sharply, challengingly. "Tell me, great ruler of Olympus: what lies waiting for the gods at the end of time?"
    He looked away uncomfortably. "Mother of women, I like not your questions. There is no end for the gods. We are immortal and eternal."
    "You believe that," she replied. "I believe that. But does man?"
    "Who cares what man believes?" Thetis looked disapprovingly at her friend. "You worry too much, Hera."
    The queen of the gods shrugged, looking very human. "It's my nature to worry, Thetis. One of us must."
    Nothing more was said. Their attention turned back to the amphitheater of life. The first act had come to an end. Would there be more, or was the play short and already finished? Time meant nothing to them and did not pass as man knows it to, but down on Earth it was otherwise. Those crowded around the symbolic amphitheater watched with considerable interest to see what might happen now.
    Even a god can get bored.
    No matter what the gods thought of it, the passage of life was still called time by men. It turned its steady pirouette, setting the pace of the world. Cities rose and fell, great works of art were