Priska’s heart was full as she attended to bathing the little one before handing her to her mother.
It was still dark outside. It had been especially dark with the new moon. Priska thought the sun must be rising as light came in the eastern window. She looked up, but a glance around the room told her something was wrong.
The light radiated from the east, but the western window was still pitch with night. When the door opened, Priska felt her heart stop.
“Touching, so touching.” The voice was beautiful, musical, but laced therein was the ugly bitterness of sarcasm. The speaker was the most striking figure Priska had ever seen. To say he was good-looking was a severe understatement. He was tall. His hair, skin, and eyes all golden, and he seemed to glow, reflecting light and warmth. With his presence, the room smelled of summer. Despite all of this, Priska felt fear.
Phoibe struggled to sit up. “Apollo?” Her voice was tired, slurred.
“Phoibe.” He acknowledged her, but there was no warmth in his voice.
“What are you doing here?” Her hair hung loose and untamed, and in her rumpled chiton, she was a beautiful mess of beauty and bewilderment.
Priska could feel the fear in the room, it was so palpable it was almost its own creature.
“Didn’t I tell you you’d see me again? I thought I made that very clear.”
Priska recognized the tone in his voice. She had heard it before: it was that of a scorned lover.
“Apollo, please!” Phoibe struggled.
“PLEASE? You don’t even know what you are asking for!” His rage was fierce, and Priska cowered away.
“Please, don’t hurt my baby. Please!” Phoibe held the infant tightly to her chest.
“Your baby,” he spat. “She should have been our baby.” And then he turned to look at the man who had won Phoibe’s heart. “Him? You spurned me for him? He’s so… ordinary!” The word was like a dagger.
Isaak stood up, his fear gone. He put himself between his wife and the angry god, knowing it would likely be his last move.
“Why would she want you? A self-absorbed god. Not when she could have a man that would love her, and be true to her, for his entire life.”
Apollo looked at Isaak, but said nothing. The room brightened, and Phoibe screamed as she blocked her baby from the rays coming from Apollo’s body. It only lasted a few seconds, but when the light receded, Isaak was gone. There was a small pile of ash on the floor where he once stood.
“Now, will you have me?” Apollo’s voice broke the shocked silence of the room.
Phoibe looked at him, her rage gone, her spirit broken. “I will never love you. I would rather die than be with you.”
“So be it. Hear the curse that you have brought upon your offspring.” His eyes closed momentarily, and then he spoke,
On this night, and in this land
Hear the curse, How it will stand.
Your body and your beauty be
Touched and marked eternally of me
And when your family is complete
Then Death will visit on swift feet
And rob you of the joy divine
The joy that should be yours and mine
Until we wed, and love and more
This shall stand forevermore.
Again the room brightened, but then the light radiating from Apollo’s body seemed to focus inward, until there was only a pinpoint left, and then it too disappeared.
The light from the fire seemed almost inadequate, and it took a few minutes for Priska’s eyes to adjust. When they did, a small shriek escaped, and she ran to Phoibe’s side. Blood pooled on the bed, dripping onto the floor. Phoibe was hemorrhaging. Priska’s first step was to remove the infant from Phoibe’s arms. The task was almost impossible, and every second seemed like the precious minutes she would need to save Phoibe’s life. When she finally extracted the newborn, Phoibe’s eyes opened.
“No, Priska. Please. Let me hold her until I go.” Her voice was only a whisper.
Priska felt helpless. “I might be able to stop the bleeding.”
“No, Priska, I don’t
It was still dark outside. It had been especially dark with the new moon. Priska thought the sun must be rising as light came in the eastern window. She looked up, but a glance around the room told her something was wrong.
The light radiated from the east, but the western window was still pitch with night. When the door opened, Priska felt her heart stop.
“Touching, so touching.” The voice was beautiful, musical, but laced therein was the ugly bitterness of sarcasm. The speaker was the most striking figure Priska had ever seen. To say he was good-looking was a severe understatement. He was tall. His hair, skin, and eyes all golden, and he seemed to glow, reflecting light and warmth. With his presence, the room smelled of summer. Despite all of this, Priska felt fear.
Phoibe struggled to sit up. “Apollo?” Her voice was tired, slurred.
“Phoibe.” He acknowledged her, but there was no warmth in his voice.
“What are you doing here?” Her hair hung loose and untamed, and in her rumpled chiton, she was a beautiful mess of beauty and bewilderment.
Priska could feel the fear in the room, it was so palpable it was almost its own creature.
“Didn’t I tell you you’d see me again? I thought I made that very clear.”
Priska recognized the tone in his voice. She had heard it before: it was that of a scorned lover.
“Apollo, please!” Phoibe struggled.
“PLEASE? You don’t even know what you are asking for!” His rage was fierce, and Priska cowered away.
“Please, don’t hurt my baby. Please!” Phoibe held the infant tightly to her chest.
“Your baby,” he spat. “She should have been our baby.” And then he turned to look at the man who had won Phoibe’s heart. “Him? You spurned me for him? He’s so… ordinary!” The word was like a dagger.
Isaak stood up, his fear gone. He put himself between his wife and the angry god, knowing it would likely be his last move.
“Why would she want you? A self-absorbed god. Not when she could have a man that would love her, and be true to her, for his entire life.”
Apollo looked at Isaak, but said nothing. The room brightened, and Phoibe screamed as she blocked her baby from the rays coming from Apollo’s body. It only lasted a few seconds, but when the light receded, Isaak was gone. There was a small pile of ash on the floor where he once stood.
“Now, will you have me?” Apollo’s voice broke the shocked silence of the room.
Phoibe looked at him, her rage gone, her spirit broken. “I will never love you. I would rather die than be with you.”
“So be it. Hear the curse that you have brought upon your offspring.” His eyes closed momentarily, and then he spoke,
On this night, and in this land
Hear the curse, How it will stand.
Your body and your beauty be
Touched and marked eternally of me
And when your family is complete
Then Death will visit on swift feet
And rob you of the joy divine
The joy that should be yours and mine
Until we wed, and love and more
This shall stand forevermore.
Again the room brightened, but then the light radiating from Apollo’s body seemed to focus inward, until there was only a pinpoint left, and then it too disappeared.
The light from the fire seemed almost inadequate, and it took a few minutes for Priska’s eyes to adjust. When they did, a small shriek escaped, and she ran to Phoibe’s side. Blood pooled on the bed, dripping onto the floor. Phoibe was hemorrhaging. Priska’s first step was to remove the infant from Phoibe’s arms. The task was almost impossible, and every second seemed like the precious minutes she would need to save Phoibe’s life. When she finally extracted the newborn, Phoibe’s eyes opened.
“No, Priska. Please. Let me hold her until I go.” Her voice was only a whisper.
Priska felt helpless. “I might be able to stop the bleeding.”
“No, Priska, I don’t
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