Negotiations With God

by R W Sowrider

  Built around a sacred spring on the side of a mountain, the temple consisted of soaring marble columns encircling an open-air altar. In between the columns were ornate sculptures of Apollo, depicted in various phases of charioteering the sun across the sky.

  Inside, Pythia, the high priestess of Apollo, was perched on a stool above a fuming crevice. She was surrounded by priests who took care of her and interpreted her cryptic answers from Apollo for the petitioners.

  The sun shone beautifully above the temple and Rowen and Francesco were fortunate to have only a couple of groups waiting in line in front of them.

  At the precise moment that Rowen first peered into the temple and caught sight of Pythia, Aphrodite—Goddess of Beauty, Horndog Love, and Shitty Dramas—pierced his heart.

  Rowen then watched in rapture as she received the first group.

  “This way, Your Highness,” the head priest said to the leader of the first group as he guided him through the entrance and onto a standing area close to the altar. “What is it that you would like to ask?”

  The dignified man turned toward Pythia. “We wish to know whether we should attack the great Kingdom of Arrichion. We know that it would be a great struggle with great sacrifice. And in order to do so, we beseech you, please let us know if we will be able conquer them.”

  Upon finishing his question, the leader eyed Pythia with bated breath, anxiously awaiting the divine response.

  Holding out his bare hand, the head priest made a little coughing sound.

  Realizing his blunder, the leader quickly untied a bag full of coins from his belt and dropped it into the head priest’s hand where it let out a pleasing jangle.

  “Pythia,” the head priest said, approaching her and gently putting a hand on her back. “Convey the message of these blessed men to our most sacred and hallowed God, Apollo, and humbly entreat Him for His holy prophesy.”

  The head priest then knelt in front of her stool, cupped his hands over the fuming crevice, and wafted a few handfuls of smoke toward her face before quickly retreating so as not to accidently inhale any of the forbidding gas himself.

  As Pythia breathed the fumes deep into her lungs, she waved her arms rhythmically while rocking her head back and forth. Slowly, her graceful movements became increasingly stilted and her eyes rolled back into her head. It looked as though she were experiencing a slight seizure.

  The main priest rushed back toward her, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her away from the crevice. “What has He told you?”

  Pythia’s head flopped backward limply and Rowen could see the whites of her eyes. “Het mythr si nogna teg uyo.”

  “I see,” the priest said, nodding as he handed her off to a couple of subordinate priests who helped her to a bench away from the crevice.

  The priest approached the lead petitioner. “The illustrious and all-seeing Apollo replies as thus: ‘If you wage war, a great kingdom will meet its demise.’ ”

  A look of absolute glee spread over the leader’s face as he raised a fist in the air and jumped for joy. “Hurrah!” he cried.

  “Hurrah!” the rest of his group echoed.

  “We’re gonna win!” he screamed in pure bliss.

  “To the end of Arrichion!” his men hollered, hugging and slapping one another on the back as they exited the temple full of joy and determination.

  “How fantastic,” Rowen said to Francesco.

  “Yeah, sounds like great news,” Francesco replied. “As long as it’s not their kingdom meeting its demise.”

  “Right this way, gentleman,” the priest said to the pair of handsome young men next in line.

  “Here you are, Father,” the senior of the two said, handing over a small bag of coins. “It’s all we could muster.”

  “Thank you, my sons. Now what is it that you would like to ask?”

  “My little brother’s in a bit of a pickle. Our parents have promised him to the daughter of the Dominus of Hideos. While he would still rather sow his wild oats, she is not so bad to look at that you would castrate yourself at the first sight of her. Further, her family is quite wealthy. As such, even if he were to abandon bachelorhood and wed the girl, I think he could still live a happy life. But obviously, we have our doubts. Could you please let us know whether he should go through with the marriage?”

  The little brother fidgeted nervously with his hands as he waited for the answer.

  “Oh shit,” Rowen said to Francesco as they watched the scene unfold. “We may have made a huge mistake in coming here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It seems that everyone is asking for visions of the future, whereas we’re looking for a judgment. Oh man, we may have gone through that long, arduous journey for nothing.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Francesco replied, dismissively. “The Pythia communicates with Apollo. She’ll get us our answer.”

  “I hope so,” Rowen replied, somewhat relieved. “Hey, do you think she’s alright?”

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “Look at her. Huffing those fumes can’t be good.” After a few more deep breaths from above the steaming crevice, Pythia’s whole body again began to convulse.

  “Seems about what we should expect for a conduit to a God, no?” Francesco said.

  “I suppose,” Rowen replied, unconvinced. “But look how out of sorts her breathing is, and how sweaty she is, and how her eyes keep rolling back in her head. I think she’s huffing poison, my good friend. If she keeps this up, I think she could die.”

  “Oh, stop being so dramatic. She’s fine. She’s literally talking to a God right now. If anything were to happen, He’d save here.”

  “Veren nogna vieg uyo pu!” Pythia shouted, spasmodically.

  “I see,” the priest said, once again nodding his head in understanding as the subordinate priests helped her to the bench away from the fumes.

  The priest approached the brothers. “The illustrious and all-seeing Apollo replies as thus: ‘If you marry the daughter of Dominus of Hideos, a great fortune will be devoured.’”

  The brothers turned to each other and locked eyes for a moment blank-faced, before their eyes lit up and huge smiles broke over their faces.

  “I’m getting married, big brother!”

  “You certainly are, little brother! You have a fortune to consume!”

  After a jubilant embrace, the brothers leapt up and down as they exited the temple .

  “Wow,” Rowen said to Francesco. “Everyone’s getting such good news.”

  “Yeah, as long as they’re interpreting it right.”

  “Right this way, gentleman,” the priest said as they entered the temple and took the designated spot a few paces from the Pythia.

  Francesco elbowed Rowen.

  “Here you go, Father,” Rowen said, pulling out a bag of coins and handing it to the priest.

  “Go ahead and ask what you’d like to know.”

  Francesco bowed his head to the priest, then turned to Pythia. “Your High Priestess, my good friend here Rowen and I got into a bit of a verbal scrap with a local thug and at the moment I was about to call in some protection, Rowen distracted me, creating an opening for the thug to attack. Of course, the thug seized the opportunity and plunged a razor-sharp dagger into my hand which not only caused me grave pain, but as you can see has rendered it near useless.” Francesco held his hand out limply before continuing. “As punishment for his part in this criminal offense, we humbly ask the awe-inspiring Apollo what kind of restitution I am owed from Rowen. He should be my slave, right?!”

  The priest once again put a gentle hand on Pythia’s back while asking her to commune with Apollo, then cupped his hands above the crevice and enveloped her in fumes.

  “It doesn’t smell right in here at all,” Rowen said under his breath to Francesco.

  “I must admit,” Francesco replied. “It does smell a bit poisony.”

  “The poor thing. They’re torturing her.”

  “It’s not
that bad.”

  Pythia’s body once again began to writhe violently as spittle flew from her mouth.

  “Okay,” Francesco conceded. “I suppose she could have it a little better.”

  “We’ve got to save her! ”

  “Kewa em pu rofeeb uyo og-og…” Pythia began in an eerily low voice.

  “Indeed,” the priest said, helping Pythia up and bending an ear toward her as she continued mumbling while being helped to the bench.

  “Gentleman,” he said, taking position in front of Rowen and Francesco. “The illustrious and all-seeing Apollo replies as thus: ‘My domain is not judgments, it is prophecies.’”

  “Oh crap, I knew it.”

  “Nevertheless,” the priest continued. “Since He is in a generous mood today, the illustrious and all-seeing Apollo judges as follows: ‘The unsightly one shall provide restitution to the self-absorbed one in the form of the unsightly one’s favorite possession.’”

  Upon hearing the word of Apollo, Rowen and Francesco turned to each other and locked eyes for a moment blank-faced, before they both broke into smug I-told-you-so-douchebag smiles.

  ***

  “Good morning, Sunshine!”

  Pythia awoke with a start to find a blurry stranger hovering over her.

  Watching the scene unfold was Aphrodite, who couldn’t help but be moved by the romantic situation. A damsel in distress rescued by a budding knight in shining armor coming to underneath a persimmon tree in a picturesque orchard just outside of Delphi.

  “I’ve got some fruit for you,” Rowen said, holding up a basket. “There’s persimmons, apples, and grapes … just the purple ones.”

  At the precise moment when Pythia’s vision began to focus, Aphrodite unleased a sharp arrow into her heart causing her to fall madly in love with Rowen.

  She’s all yours , Aphrodite whispered to Rowen, who of course was unaware of her presence.

  Pythia could hardly believe the passionate emotions coursing through her. She was no stranger to crushes, but she had never felt anything like this. While she had never been attracted to someone with such an enormous schnoz and bushy unibrow, she somehow found him irresistible. She was drawn to him.

  “Who are you?” She could hardly speak, but the words managed to float from her lips.

  “I’m Rowen,” he replied, eyeing her curiously. He had never been looked at in such a way and chalked it up to brain damage.

  “What a beautiful name,” Pythia said, dreamily. “Rowen.”

  Rowen had never received such a compliment and the fact that it was coming from the object of his affection made his heart race as he broke into an overjoyed smile.

  Pythia’s bubble burst the moment she caught sight of Rowen’s uber-gummy smile. Her expression of enchantment instantly transformed into one of repulsion. She couldn’t help but let out a deep groan as if she had been kicked in the stomach by a giant.

  Aphrodite sighed in frustration. You’re on your own, little buddy.

  “Are you okay?” Rowen asked.

  “Please … please … just give me a moment.”

  “How you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?” Francesco chimed in.

  “Terrible. No, fine. I’m … I’m a bit confused. What’s going on? Have I been kidnapped?”

  “Not kidnapped, Silly Goose,” Rowen said. “Rescued.”

  “Rescued?”

  “Yeah, rescued. From those horrible men that were poisoning you.”

  “You mean the priests at Delphi? How did you manage to steal me away from them? ”

  “Oh, it was easy,” Francesco replied. “At the end of the day, when you were … how shall we say … comatose, we simply entered the temple, picked you up, and carried you off.”

  “The priests just let you carry me off? Carry the Pythia off? Without trying to stop you?”

  “Yeah, it was no problem at all. The main priest was like, ‘What are you doing?’ And we were like, ‘They told us to pick her up and bring her back, so that’s what we’re doing.’ And that was that.”

  “That was that?! The priests didn’t even ask who it was that told you to bring the Pythia back?!”

  “Nope. Rowen raised the same issue beforehand, but I told him it would work. Just act like you’re supposed to be there and they’ll assume you are.”

  “Isn’t it cute how she refers to herself in the third person?” Rowen said to Francesco.

  “Not so much cute as weird. Why do you refer to yourself as ‘the Pythia’?”

  “Because Pythia’s not my name. It’s the title of the high priestess of Delphi. My name’s Sera.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Sera. I’m Francesco.”

  “Wow, I’m really taken aback by the priests’ nonchalance, but I guess they’ll replace me without much of a problem.”

  “Really?” Rowen asked. “There are more women in Delphi with your ability to channel Apollo?”

  “There’s not much need for that, they just need a female to sit above the crevice, breathe in the fumes, and breathe out nonsense. Then the head priest just makes up an ambiguous reply satisfactory enough to keep the petitioners, and more importantly, their bags of coins, rolling in.”

  “Those frauds!” Rowen exclaimed.

  “The irony is, I actually have the power of prophecy, granted to me by Apollo. I suppose the rumors of such is why I became a candidate to become Pythia in the first place. But they kept me so high on that noxious gas that I never had a chance to use it. It took everything I had just to produce a few garbled sounds let alone show people the future.”

  “Apollo actually gave you the gift? How did that happen?”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “That’s not fair,” Rowen replied, his feelings hurt. “Please give us a try.”

  “Okay, but I’m telling you, you won’t believe me.” Sera took a deep breath before beginning. “When I was 14 years old and just becoming a woman, Apollo visited me. I was caught completely off guard when bathing by myself under a small waterfall near my home.

  “‘Young maiden,’ he said suddenly, causing me to make a mad dash for my clothes. ‘You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.’

  “While I enjoy a compliment as much as anyone else, when someone, be it a God or otherwise, appears out of nowhere and starts gushing like that it’s … it’s just too stalkery. It sent shivers down my spine.

  “I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t stop. ‘You are the most graceful, most attractive, most vivacious being I could ever hope to have the pleasure of meeting.’

  “It was a downpour of compliments, each one creepier than the last. I told him that I had to go home and begged him to leave me alone, but that only made things worse.

  “‘I must have you. Please, I will do anything. Even for just a touch of your hair, I will do anything. Can I have a touch? Can I just run my fingers through your lustrous curls? Anything! I’ll do anything!’

  “I almost vomited all over myself. He was so whiny. So grating. It got to the point where I was ready to agree to almost anything just to get him to leave.

  “And that’s when he offered me the gift of prophesy. A power like that changes everything. My family was just barely scraping by and this was a chance for a better life for all of us. He knew he had me.

  “‘Yes, I will give you the gift of prophecy. You will be able to see the future and profit from it greatly. Your family will no longer just eke by. And all that I ask in return is that you let me know you, just once. Just one roll in the hay. Oh please, allow me just one roll in the hay with you!’

  “So to be able to provide for my family – and to escape that horribly unpleasant situation – I agreed. But on two conditions.

  “One, that he would grant me the power immediately.

  “And two, that he would wait until my 17th birthday to collect. I told him that this was because I wanted to wait until I was a full-grown adult, but in reality, this was to allow me time to make sure that I could actually
go through with it with such a repulsive, persistent creep.”

  “So you’re saying he gave you the power right then and there?” Francesco asked, dubiously.

  “Yeah. And over the next three years, I was astounded by what I was able to see. While I kept the gift a secret for the most part, when my town was on the verge of being attacked, I had to let everyone know. As a result, rumors of my ability must have spread, ultimately leading to the priests bringing me to Delphi.

  “But on my 17th birthday, I couldn’t go through with it. Apollo was just too off-putting. I mean, he’s literally a God so physically, there were no issues, but his personality was just too icky.”

  “So you’re saying you reneged on the deal?” Francesco asked.

  “Yeah. I refused to let him lay even a finger on me. And as punishment for this, he declared that while I would forever have the gift of prophecy, no one would ever believe me.”

  Francesco and Rowen gave each other she-doesn’t-seriously-think-we’re-buying-this-crap looks, and burst into laughter.

  In between laughs, Francesco managed a reply. “Do you really think anyone’s gonna believe that Apollo visited you in person and offered you divine powers to get it on with you?!”

  “That’s so insane,” Rowen added, still chuckling. “No rational person is gonna go for that. Like you can really see the future. C’mon, quit jerking our chain!”

  “Why wouldn’t you believe me?” Sera asked, defiantly. “Just yesterday you believed that I could speak with Apollo thanks to some special fumes.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the Oracle,” Francesco countered. “The Oracle at Delphi . Not some peasant girl Sera who bullshits about breaking the hearts of Gods. It’s ludicrous!”

  The guys again burst into laughter and all Sera could do was shake her head. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

  When the guys finally settled down, they looked at her in amusement, and in a tone dripping with condescension said, “You’re too cute.”

  “So what’s the plan here anyway, guys? Where are you taking me?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” Francesco teased. “I thought you could see the future.”