Jago (Conclusion)

As time passed, days turned to weeks and weeks to months.  Jago persisted in testing his new condition by drowning, jumping off of cliffs and falling on swords.  Eve and I could clearly sense his bewilderment as he watched his wounds heal in a matter of minutes.  He even went so far as to cut off his hand so he could watch it grow back.

He would weep, “You said you could make me well but you both cursed me! You are demons and you made me a demon too.”

You see my dear reader, I understood that era and the superstitious mentality of the time – but we had to reprogram Jago’s mind to accept his new circumstance – he still believed in the old superstitious religions where luck and life were handed down by the gods.  His mind firmly accepted that Hades has touched him and condemned him to walk the earth as a demonized freak.

Eve did her best to sort out and try to pick apart Jago’s dogmatic beliefs.  She would mostly  try to comfort him by singing beautiful songs of love and happiness at the evening campfires.  This seemed to have a calming influence on his state of mind for periods of time, but Jago had to come to grips with his new reality on his own.  334 BC was still a barbaric period and Jago had moments of rage and torment that caused this barbarism to surface. One example of this was when he would bring back game from hunting -- it would be smashed and clubbed beyond recognition.  This was not acceptable behavior for that period as well as in our 21^st century.

“Joseph, what will do with our immortal ‘wild child’?  He can’t adjust to the gift you have given to him.” Eve was concerned and felt responsible for his misery. I felt helpless to fix the situation because this was a learning experience for me.  He is the first since Eve to survive the potion and Eve didn’t react the same way as Jago to the change.  From the time I was changed to the time of Helen (or Eve) I tried to give the potion to 3 others.  They all died horribly before Eve came with me around 1179 BC and was saved by the potion that same year (that’s a whole other story).

About eight months after we gave Jago the ‘medicine’ that caused his transformation, the worst thing that could have happened occurred on a stormy autumn evening off the shores of Sicily. We found Jago huddle in a tent staring wildly at nothing, humming a lullaby his mother sang to him when he was a small child.

“Jago?” Eve called out to him. “Jago, please be yourself again.  Be that sarcastic and amusing lovable young man we helped. Please . . . .”

“My mama sang me a beautiful song of heaven and going to the gods in glory to live in happiness forever.  She said that if we are found worthy by Zeus we would enter Olympus and serve there forever.  Forever . . . . Forever . . . . Forever!!   Instead I will walk in this world ---FOREVER!!  I HATE YOU BOTH!!”

He screamed as loudly as he possibly could drowning out the thunder from outside, ripped off all of his clothes and ran from the tent.  Still screaming he headed for the woods up the steep hill as the storm poured down rain.  Eve wanted to run after him but I stopped her.

“He will need to find his own way from here.” I told her talking loud enough to be heard over the wind and rain. “He cannot die, so he will come to grips with his future.  He will find us or we will find him – until then we must leave here and head north to Rome.  We haven’t been there for a while and I have a feeling he will eventually wind up there.”

As we turned back to our tents we heard Jago’s faint screams echoing down from the hill.  A single tear ran down Eve’s cheek as the rain washed it away.  She felt responsible and hoped to see him well . . . .

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