Alex was glad he was sitting down, for otherwise he would surely have fallen over. The heat must be getting to him. He drank some more water, and splashed a little on his face, hoping the sweet, cool liquid would sharpen his senses. The man before him still looked resplendent and golden. Godly. Alex was speechless.
“I am called Hermes,” Hermes began, then realized the boy was gaping and stunned. “But please--let us not stand on ceremony, we’ve already been talking, you and I, and I don’t mean to frighten you.” Alex remembered himself at that, and tried to muster his courage.
“Why--why are you here?” Alex asked, confused. Hermes sat himself down again so that he wouldn’t be towering over the boy. Humans and dogs always seemed to prefer interaction at eye level; it set them at ease.
“I have come at Zeus’ behest, with a message for you.” Hermes said, noting that Alexandros suddenly looked pale. “Are you ill?”
Alex swallowed once and shook his head.
“Good,” Hermes continued, “it would seem that there is a dispute. An event transpired at wedding last week at which three of the goddesses each laid claim to a title. I’m sure you know how women can get,” (Alex nodded) “and so they asked Zeus to judge between them in a contest. Zeus of course refused, knowing how dangerous it is to take sides with your relations, and so we debated how we could best decide between them when it was suggested that we find an outsider. The terms are this: You judge fairly, and give the title to the one most deserving of it. In return we swear to accept your verdict. Zeus of course will compensate you for your troubles with enough gold for you and your family to live very comfortably for the rest of your days.”
“So I could pay my father back for the bull?” Alex asked, eyes wide.
“Fifty bulls.” Hermes stated. Alex sat back on his heels, imagining what that would mean.
“And all I have to do is award a title?”
“That’s all!”
“I’ll do it,” said Alex.
“Wonderful!” Hermes exclaimed. He had Alex swear to the judgement, telling the boy they would come to him the next day.
Alex gathered his belongings, and gave the whistle for the dog to start bringing the sheep home. By the time he had them all gathered in their hut, he was brimming with excitement to tell his father. He ran to their home where his mother would have supper waiting and told the whole story, barely noticing in his excitement that his father grew paler and more solemn with every word. His mother ate slowly, as though she was having trouble swallowing her food.
“You must be careful when striking bargains with the gods, my son,” his father said. “They will always become angry with you in some way, and always try to hurt you.”
“But I will have the protection of the winner, don’t you see, nothing can go wrong! And father, the gold! You will be comfortable for the end of your days!”
“You’re a good lad, Alex, and I know you mean well. We love you for it. Now off to bed, you need to be rested tomorrow.” His mother added.
“I just don’t understand why they would choose me,” Alex continued, “it’s strange for the gods to ask a favour of a lowly shepherd.”
“To bed, Alex! We shall talk more tomorrow,” said his father. Alex obliged and kissed his parents goodnight, retiring to his pallet.
His parents cleaned up from the meal, fed and watered the animals, and undressed for the night.
“We’ll tell him tomorrow,” they agreed. “We will tell him who he really is.”
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