Origin of the Sphinx

by Raye Wagner

  It was only after Isaak had said his farewell that Priska walked him to the road.

  “You will need to see her father before you come again, Isaak Pallas. It is not fair for this to continue unless you will wed her. Don’t play with her…affections.”

  “Priska.” Isaak stopped to look at Priska, his face lined with incredulity. “You have known me almost my entire life. Don’t you know I mean to marry her?”

  “I figured as much, which is why I began with the counsel: you must pay the bride price. If you have not the money–”

  “I will have the money to him before I come again. I promise.”

  “Thank you Isaak. May the gods watch over you.”

  “And protect you.” He held up his hand in farewell.

  ~ προχωρήσουμε ~

  The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. The letters from Isaak were Phoibe’s break from the monotony of her life. She had never felt discontent before, but suddenly her life of grinding flour, weaving, and healing seemed dull, and the occasional letter only magnified the dreariness of her existence.

  Perhaps the dullness was accentuated by the sporadic visits from Apollo. It seemed that he was most adept at pointing out the drudgery that surrounded her. And, the sun was brighter when he was around.

  It had been a difficult week, Phoibe had spent the days grinding flour. There were many orders to fill, and she had been wishing for some divine intervention. At noon time she stole out to the olive trees and pled with Apollo to help her complete her work, so she could spend some time with him. It was with pleasure that she saw the bulk of the grain ground into flour, bagged and ready for delivery when she returned indoors. By late afternoon the work was completed, and she set off to the field behind the olive grove.

  “Apollo?” She was hoping he would be there, and she laughed as he materialized in front of her.

  “You called?”

  “Thank you so much! I thought I would die if I–”

  “Die? Oh dear. I wish you would have called on me sooner. You know I live but to be of service to you.” His smile was just short of mocking, all in good fun.

  “Sure you do. You and your endless consort. I’m sure you have all the time in the world to spare for me.” She always found it humorous, his pledge of unswerving loyalty, when in truth his attention was always divided.

  “I will always find time for you.” His voice contradicted her thoughts with a soft caress. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her cheek, her chin, and her lips.

  Phoibe noticed the jump in her stomach, the same pleasant sensation that took place when Isaak was around. She was suddenly nervous; this was not right, something was not right. She stumbled back.

  “Oh, Apollo, I’m so sorry, I just remembered, I need to finish making dinner for Priska. She’s been in town…”

  “I can take care of it.” He waved his hand and again stepped closer to her.

  “No, really, I must go. I…uh…I have to take care of some things before she gets home.”

  “Hush, my angel.” His hands were on her shoulders, his breath tickled her skin. The warmth coming off his body melted the dreariness, and she could smell summer. “If you tell me, I’ll take care of it for you, anything you need, just tell me.” His voice was seductive, and Phoibe found she wanted to stay.

  Closing her eyes, she willed herself to see through the power of the god. Stepping back, but with her eyes still closed, she said, “Apollo, I must go. I… I will call on you when I can.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and ran back to the house.

  Dinner was ready and sitting on the table when she came in. The places were set, the wine poured. There was nothing to do but wait for Priska. Thankfully, she walked in only moments later.

  Priska was unusually silent as they dished up the meal.

  “Phoibe?” Priska’s voice eventually broke the silence.

  “Yes, Priska?”

  “I don’t want to pry, so I’m not asking you to tell me anything. I just want you to think about how you would feel if you found out Isaak was entertaining visits from Aphrodite.”

  The words fell like a bomb. Her heart crushed in a vice, her stomach rolled. “But, nothing happened,” her voice was small.

  “Phoibe, again, I’m not asking you to tell me anything. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. I just want you to think things through. Apollo isn’t interested in being your friend. Although there is no doubt he is interested in you. If you love him, or if you think you are in love with him–Well, maybe you should talk to your father.”

  “My father?” Phoibe was confused for only a second. Priska had told her the story of her conception and how she had come to live with her father after Hera promised Zeus she would have nothing more to do with Damon or Phoibe. “But Apollo’s not like that.”

  “Apollo is just like that. Maybe worse.”

  Phoibe shook her head in disbelief.

  Priska set her fork down and looked at Phoibe. “You know, I want you to talk with your father about this. Hurry up and eat, we’re going tonight.”

  The walk to her father’s home was quiet. Phoibe wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t like she was in love with Apollo. He was fun to be with, and he made her laugh. The thought of not seeing him anymore made her feel like the light was suddenly sucked from her life. But did she love him?

  She knocked at her father’s door. When her half-brother answered the door, she smiled at the youth. Jorrin, the eldest of her two brothers, had gone away to finish his schooling in Athens. Dimetrios, who was eight, had just started his schooling in Belen.

  “Hi Dimitri. Is our father here?” She hadn’t felt that this was home for many years. As she looked around the house in which she had spent the first few years of her life, she saw very little of what had once been. Thalla had kept the home updated, and sparseness had given way to luxury, as it well should, given her father’s success.

  “Phoibe?” She heard his voice before she could see him, and then he came out of a back room. “What a wonderful surprise! Come here, my child. Well, you are really a lady, now,” he said, and in truth only Priska could hear the sadness in his voice.

  “Hello Father.” She was nervous now, not sure how to broach the subject. She gave him a hug.

  “Damon, I thought tonight would be a good night for you and Phoibe to have a talk.” Priska met his eyes.

  Damon understood there was more than just words being communicated. “Of course.” Damon turned to his daughter. “Do you want to go to the living room, or would you rather walk?”

  “Do you mind if we walk?” She looked at both Damon and Priska to assess their judgment of her suggestion.

  Priska nodded. “I’ll stay here. Is Thalla in Athens?” When Damon nodded, she continued, “Do I get Dimitri all to myself?” Priska’s eyes lit up with obvious enthusiasm. She knelt down and Dimitri ran over to her.

  “Do you want to see my rock collection, Aunt Priska?”

  “How did you know? That is the very purpose of my visit here tonight.” She took the young boy’s hand and turned back to Phoibe and her father. “Go you two, have a good talk.”

  The night air was still warm. They strolled silently through the streets of town, and then when they hit the pastures, Damon looked at Phoibe.

  “Who is he?”

  “What?” Phoibe’s nervousness was cut by shock.

  “Aren’t you here to ask my permission to marry?”

  Even Phoibe, in her current flustered state, could hear bitterness in the question. “No, Dad. I’m not getting married, yet.”

  Damon sighed. “Then what is it? I’ve seen that look in Priska’s eyes, and it usually spells warning for me. So, what do we need to talk about?” He reached out and took her hand.

  With the touch, P
hoibe’s defenses crumbled. “Oh, Dad! It’s such a mess. I’ve made a terrible mess.” Phoibe’s tears came, and with them, the confusion and frustration seemed to dissipate.

  “What do I need to do to help you, Phoibe?”

  “Will you listen, and tell me the truth?”

  “I will always do that.”

  And she knew it. She could always count on her dad to listen, and his judgment, while biased, was with her best interest at heart.

  “A couple of years ago, I met Isaak Pallas.”

  “The lawyer’s son?” He was surprised for the youth was rarely home.

  “Yes. He was in Belen, and he had dinner at Priska’s. We talked, and started writing. Dad, I really like him.” She looked at her father and he could see the intensity of her emotion reflected in her gaze. He nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I never meant to keep it a secret from you, it started as nothing…” she floundered for a moment.

  “Phoibe, it may have started as nothing for you, but that young man knew what he was doing.” His words pulled her eyes to his and she acknowledged the truth of his words.

  “Yes, I can see that now.”

  “So, what has happened? Does he want to marry you? Did he break your heart?” The conclusions were jumping from one extreme to the other in his mind as he tried to play out what could have caused his daughter such distress.

  “I met Apollo.”

  Damon stopped walking. His features told of the significance of her statement.

  “Nothing’s happened, Dad.”

  The words seemed to unfreeze him, but his next breath was ragged. “But?”

  “Today Priska told me that there is only one reason Apollo would seek me out. Only one reason…” she blushed, and looked away, not wanting to say it to her father.

  “Priska is very wise.” His words pulled her focus, and Damon met her gaze.

  “Really? Don’t you think he might just want to be friends?” Even as she said it she knew it was ridiculous; she had deluded only herself. “He doesn’t want to be friends, does he?”

  “Phoibe. You know your name means shining one. You have always been a lily amongst the brush. It is no wonder Apollo, or Isaak Pallas for that matter, sought you out. You have your mother’s beauty and warmth. To me, she was irresistible.” His voice quieted and he reminisced. “I remember seeing her standing alone on the hilltop, I thought she was a vision, no, a dream. She was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. When she beckoned me, I knew I would have gone to the end of the earth for her.” He shook his head and his eyes met hers. “But, Phoibe, I have learned many a hard lesson. Hera never loved me. She used me, and the act had significant consequences. I look back on that day, and if I could do it all over again…” He shook his head, and he would no longer meet her eyes, “I wish I would have had the strength to walk away from her.”

  Phoibe knew what he meant. It was not that he didn’t love her, his daughter. It was the sadness and hurt that had come: in his marriage, with Phoibe having to leave home, the regret of not being able to raise his daughter and have a family with his wife. That decision had brought pain to many, but Damon most of all.

  “But you can’t really blame yourself. You are mortal, and she’s a god.” Phoibe knew that gods had significant power, and their ability to manipulate mortals was well-known.

  “You, however, are not mortal. You are a demigod, and as such, you will be able to decide. Without compulsion. I will not tell you what to do, but let me give you a little counsel. I doubt Apollo wants a lasting relationship. You are beautiful, and you have presented him a challenge, I think? Once he has conquered; he will very likely move on. Are you prepared to live with that?”

  When Phoibe shook her head and started to speak, Damon cut her off. “Wait. Phoibe. Have you examined the other option you are looking at? If you choose to marry Isaak Pallas, he will grow old and die. You might choose to grow old, but as I understand it, you will not die. Are you willing to live with that decision?”

  “Dad, I love him. I don’t think I could live without him. Maybe…” she left it hanging, not sure what she was trying to say.

  “Phoibe, you will have to live with whatever decisions you make. I can’t tell you what will bring you happiness or joy. You will have to look into your heart to find your own way. I will always support you.”

  “My path was clear from the first day I met Isaak. I can’t live without him.”

  Damon nodded. “I understand.”

  Phoibe believed him. Despite the trembling in her heart she did not worry about making the wrong decision. However, she was wise enough to dread the potential consequences of offending a god.

  CHAPTER V

  The visits had become more frequent so Phoibe didn’t have long to wait. She was hanging wash when the sun god appeared at the edge of the yard.

  “Phoibe, what are you doing?” Apollo’s eyes skimmed down her body as he took in the scene. “Do you know how attractive you look doing work. I’ve never beheld something so desirable.” He came to her as he spoke. He reached to pull the fabric from her hands.

  Phoibe retreated two steps, still clutching the material of the chiton in her hands.

  “What’s the matter? Why so shy my kitten?” Apollo’s voice was honey.

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. Looking around she saw the garden bench. Knowing he would follow, Phoibe set the dress back in the basket and walked through the spring flowers to the bench. As if the weight of the situation was crushing her, she sank onto the wooden slats.

  “Apollo,” Phoibe looked at the god sitting beside her, “I can’t. What you are asking for, I–” She broke off not sure how to tell him.

  “You can’t what, Phoibe? You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

  “Friends? Really?” She was tired of pretenses, pretending, being fooled. “I have a feeling that’s not really what you’re after.” She met his eyes, and almost relented with the warmth and promise in the immortal golden depths.

  “What do you think I want?” His voice called to her.

  Something in Phoibe shifted; at that very moment she knew Isaak had come home. She saw Apollo, and instead of seeing the attractive figure with his golden promises, she saw the betrayal and hurt in her father’s eyes the day she was six. She understood that before her stood a god, but he had delivered only according to his will and pleasure. At home was a man that would, that had, sacrificed for her, who would work beside her, who valued her for all that she was.

  “I think you should leave, my lord.” Her voice was firm.

  “Are you refusing me?” The shock on his face was real.

  Phoibe’s palms grew sweaty with fear. “I love Isaak. What you are asking…It is a betrayal of my promise to him. I won’t do that to him.”

  “He need never know.” Apollo drew closer, and as he reached to touch Phoibe’s face, she withdrew.

  “I would know.” Her voice was unyielding. It was as if saying it gave her the strength to finish. “I hope you will understand. I love him; I will not be unfaithful to him. I think it would be best for us all if you didn’t visit anymore.” She had said it! Phoibe felt relief.

  “You are refusing me.” His voice was quiet, but hard, and a muscle in his neck jumped as he clenched his teeth. “You don’t know what you are doing. You and I aren’t finished.” He pointed at her, his gaze piercing, and the rage in his eyes made Phoibe’s heart race. “We. Aren’t. Finished.” With a flash of light, he was gone.

  Phoibe sat on the bench until the sun went down. The moon was up, full, and the brisk air bit into her skin. It was only then that she gathered her skirt and went inside. When she opened the door she saw Isaak sitting at the table, obviously waiting. As soon as their eyes met, Phoibe started to cry.

  Isaak held his arms out to her, and she ru
shed into them, burying her head into his chest.

  “There, there my love. It’s okay now, isn’t it?” He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. When Phoibe looked at him, he wiped the remaining tears from her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” she hiccupped, and they both laughed. “I guess I’d better tell you though, as I’m sure I’m putting your life in danger, too.”

  “Well, our lives have been a little dull. What kind of danger have you put us in?” He was laughing at her, but she could read the confusion on his face.

  “Apollo has been attempting to court me.” Phoibe watched as the color drained from Isaak’s face.

  “I… I didn’t know.” He struggled to swallow, and his eyes glazed over.

  “Nothing happened,” Phoibe quickly said.

  When Isaak looked her way, his shock was raw on his face.

  “And I told him today that nothing ever would happen.”

  Phoibe took Isaak’s face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. “I love you Isaak. I could never do anything that would hurt you.”

  “But Phoibe—”

  Whatever protest Isaak had was stopped when Phoibe’s lips met his.

  ~ προχωρήσουμε ~

  For the next several weeks Phoibe was apprehensive, constantly anticipating the threat of Apollo returning. But weeks passed, and then months.

  The wedding ceremony took place without incident. Phoibe and Isaak settled in their own home. Isaak still travelled to Athens, but less and less as he established patrons in the community of Belen. The concern Phoibe had once felt about Apollo got lost in the business of daily life, and then Phoibe discovered she was expecting.

  It was an exciting time with lots to do to prepare for the little one. Of course, Priska was there to oversee all, the constant of Phoibe’s life. It seemed that the months flew, and Phoibe was grateful for the help of her surrogate mother.