Chapter 3: The Wrath of Demeter

While Persephone's cries could not be heard above the ground, the pain in Demeter's heart quickly alerted her. The goddess knew that something was terribly wrong. Unable to stand the unease in her chest, Demeter left her dwelling and climbed onto the chariot, heading towards the field.

At the edge of the garden, she found the Seirenes scurrying hither and thither like a flock of blind birds. Demeter thus called upon them. When they heard her voice, the nymphs behaved frantically and looked panic-stricken. As the goddess' chariot approached, they began to huddle together like frightened fawns.

"It's almost eve. What silly game are you playing?" Demeter asked, "Have you seen my daughter?"

The Seirenes flinched from her questions but they remained silent. The Earth Goddess noticed the nymphs' ashen faces and frowned.

"What happened? Where is Persephone?" she asked again in a stern voice. One of them was shoved forward to answer. Her body was shaking like a leaf as she began to speak.

"We don't know where the young lady is," the maiden said, while the rest of them lowered their gazes to the ground, "We have been looking for her everywhere all noon."

"Are you telling me Persephone has been missing all this time?"

"I swear to the gods, my lady, she was just there with us but the next moment she was gone!" They sobbed. "We called for her and looked far and wide yet there's not a trace of where she might have gone astray."

Demeter felt a pang of terror and the grief struck her like lightning. She nearly dropped to her knees from the shock. When her shock was replaced by a gnawing rage from within her chest, Demeter stepped out of her chariot with fury-filled eyes.

"I entrusted my child to your care. How dare you deceive me?!" the goddess bellowed.

The nymphs fell to the ground and asked the goddess for her forgiveness. They were all trembling with fear.

"My lady, we beg for your mercy," they cried tearfully, "Let us redeem our wrong, please. We will help you look for Persephone."

"Then you shall go and find her in a form of bird-like monsters. Your wings shall carry you across the lands and seas so that all would know of my missing child. This is your punishment. You will not be released from it until someone hears your singing."

As soon as Demeter spoke, the Seirenes suddenly saw golden plumage cloaking all over their limbs. They now had feathers and feet of birds. Yet to preserve their glorious song and melodious enchantment, the goddess let them retain their fair maidens' face and sweet charming voice. It was both a blessing and a curse.

After the nymphs were made flying creatures by the will of Demeter, they wandered off, seeking their beloved mistress.

Twilight slowly descended upon the world. Demeter went on seeking her daughter from dusk to dawn, from sunrise until sunset, hour by hour without a moment of rest.

She sped here and there, calling out, "Persephone!...Persephone!"

But she heard no answer.

All day and night, Demeter kept looking for her missing daughter. She searched high and low, but it seemed the girl had vanished from the face of the earth. Consumed by worries and depression over her lost child, the goddess soon ceased to remember her worldly duties as Goddess of Grain and Growth. The plants withered and died all around her. The wheat color-haired lady grew sadder as she felt her own hopes began to fade.

She was weary and thirsty for no spring had wet her lips. Then she chanced upon a little cottage thatched with straw and knocked on its low door. An old lady came out to look at her. When she asked if the woman had seen a young maiden, the crone replied with a shake of her grey head. Sighing, Demeter instead asked her for some water, the woman brought out a sweet barley-flavoured drink. While the goddess drank, a saucy bold-faced boy stood by and laughed at her, calling her greedy. The goddess looked up. He stopped laughing. Demeter in mere irritation poured the unfinished drink with all the grains of barley over him.

Immediately, his cheeks came out in spots and where his arms had been, legs grew. A tail was added to his altered limbs. To keep his mischief small, he shrank until he was tinier than a lizard. The old crone was amazed, in tears, and bent down to touch the changeling creature, but it fled to find a hiding-crack.

It had a name to suit its coloured skin - a starry-spotted newt.

When dawn broke another day, Demeter returned to the forest and happened to pass by a glade. There the earth goddess saw the uprooted bush and the trampled grass. Then she saw something that stabbed her heart - Persephone's little paint pot overturned. Demeter leaped from her chariot. She listened to the flowers and trees and birds there. They began to whisper to her of a heedless girl, a strange bush, the hole, the chariot, and the black rider.

Demeter spoke softly, questioning them. They told her enough for her to know who had taken her beloved daughter. She lifted her face to the sky and howled with grief like a she-wolf. The earth rumbled and the birds scared out of the trees. The goddess put her face in her hands and wept.

After a moment of intense grief, she remounted her chariot and flew up to the home of gods. Demeter charged into the throne room where the King of Heaven sat. She began shunning the attention of Zeus as a father.

"Justice!" she cried, "I demand justice! Your sister has stolen my daughter - our daughter!"

"Peace, Demeter, compose yourself," said Zeus.

"How could you sit there and do naught after my child was taken?" Demeter cried, "You knew that Hades took her away from me, did you not?"

Of course, Zeus did. He learned of it just as soon as the incidence had happened, but he also knew how his sister was. Hades could be extremely difficult, unlike any other gods and goddesses.

Zeus let out a sigh.

"Hades' courtship has been a trifle abrupt perhaps, but after all, she is my sister - our sister. Think again, sweet Demeter. It is highly unlikely for our daughter to look beyond family protection."

"Family protection? With Hades?" The earth goddess growled. "Never! It must not be. Anyone but Hades!"

"My dear, when your rage cools down, you will realize that it is fortunate that Persephone will be loved and cared for in the hand of another goddess."

"No! I won't allow it. Don't you realize this is a spring child - a flower child, a delicate unopened bud? No ray of sunlight has ever reached that dank hole she calls her kingdom. My dear Persephone will wither and die!"

Though Zeus knew that his daughter would not be harmed by Hades, he also felt saddened by the thought of losing her to the world from which no mortal could return. He wavered yet reluctant to anger both sisters and was more apprehensive still of the wrath of the dark goddess.

"Persephone is our daughter," Zeus sighed at last, "I fancy she has a talent for survival. Please, think it over, Demeter."

"Once again," the goddess said in a trembling angry voice, "will you restore my daughter to me?"

"Demeter, please go back to earth and be intelligent about it."

"I will go back to earth," said Demeter bitterly, "and while my child is gone, no crops shall grow, no tree will bear, and no grass will spring. While she is gone and I mourn my loss, the earth will grow as dry and shriveled as my heart and will put forth no green thing. I shall not return until all the gods beg for me."

The rich-haired goddess furiously turned away and left Olympus.