Origin of the Sphinx (4 page)

“Maybe. I wonder if I’ll do that when I’m her age,” she mused.

Apollo laughed. “When you’re her age? Do you know how old Priska is?”

“No,” Phoibe shook her head. “But, she can’t be more than 60 or so.” She looked up at the god, noticing his golden, almost leonine coloring and grace, and then remembered his immortality.

He laughed again. “This would not be the first or second, or even third time she would be 60.”

“Really?” But looking at the god, she suddenly didn’t have such a hard time believing in immortality, perhaps everyone was immortal.

“Really.” He winked at her. “But don’t tell her I said anything; I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to know.”

Pinching her lips together, she nodded. “I won’t say a word.”

“Of course not, you angel.” He placed his free hand atop hers briefly. “So, why don’t you tell me why you’re off wandering alone? And sad? On a beautiful day like this?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m not alone. And, I’m not sad.”

“That, sweet girl, is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

The emotional warmth that radiated from Apollo was hard to resist, and Phoibe had been feeling empty. Even so, she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Apollo was trying to be charming.

“I doubt that.” She nudged him in the side. “I’m sure you get all kinds of flattery.”

He looked at her quizzically and then smiled. “Flattery? Yes. But flattery is not sincere, so it means little.”

“I can only imagine how tedious that must get.”

“Now, I doubt that. I’m sure you don’t get much flattery living with Priska.”

“No, she’s not really one for vanity.” Suddenly feeling guilty of speaking ill of her, Phoibe continued, “but she’s like family, and I love her.”

“Of course you do. And it really just adds to your goodness.”

Phoibe snorted. “PLEASE! If you don’t stop, my head will be so big I’ll float away. Can you imagine the reality check from Priska? I’ll come crashing back to the earth.”

“I would never let you crash.” His gaze was intense, and then he released her. Glancing up at the sun, he said “I’m so sorry, Phoibe, but I must go.”

“Of course.” She nodded, somewhat relieved.

“May I call on you again?” His smile was warm, friendly, the previous intensity gone.

Phoibe wondered if she had imagined it. She only thought about the invitation fleetingly. “Yes, Apollo. That would be nice.”

His fingertips tilted her chin up; his thumb brushed her skin.

Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes. There was a bright flash of light, and then she could sense the dimness. When Phoibe opened her eyes, she was standing alone. She looked around to get her bearings, and realized she now had a long walk back home, this time alone. Gauging by the sun, Phoibe knew she needed to hurry. Priska would be wondering where she had gone. With a “harrumph” she began the walk.

CHAPTER IV

When Phoibe came into the courtyard she could hear the voices. Priska’s she knew like her own, but the deeper tenor took a moment to register. Suddenly she was running, forgetting her past disappointment, her long walk, even her visit from Apollo.

“Isaak!” She was through the door and had almost thrown herself at him, when she remembered Priska. She drew up just short of him. “Good evening, Isaak.” Her voice was all forced control. Her eyes drank him in. She noticed the etched worry lines around his eyes, as well as the tale-tell signs of fatigue.

“Phoibe.” He smiled.

But she heard sadness, and she looked from Isaak to Priska as if for an explanation.

“Isaak was kind enough to stop by for a visit. We have been wondering where you were these last two hours.” Priska’s gaze was slightly amused.

Phoibe felt a pang of guilt. Looking downward, she apologized. “I wandered off, much further than I had intended.”

“No one’s mad, child.” It was Priska.

“Are you tired, Phoibe?” Isaak’s voice drew her focus. “Would you care to amble with me for a few minutes?”

“Of course!” Phoibe then looked at Priska, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Go, you two. But, mind where you are seen.”

Phoibe knew the rules of society. Isaak wasn’t the only male that had made the mistake of assuming Phoibe was a courtesan after being seen so often in public. In truth, many had sought Priska to inquire after the young lady, certainly of marriageable age, but single and out in society. It had caused Priska some inconvenience, and a little discomfiture. Things had settled down, and she had no desire to have to relive the experience. Phoibe understood all of this with her warning.

“Yes, Priska.”

The two walked outside and around to the back of Priska’s home. The distance between them was slight, but it felt like a gap Phoibe couldn’t close. They went past the garden in silence, and into the small orchard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” His voice sounded weary.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not okay.” He stopped and looked at her.

She couldn’t meet the intensity of his gaze and dropped her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I…I was delayed. Some work came up that had to be attended to, and it fell to me. I underestimated the amount of time it would take, and now…” he shrugged.

“Is everything okay?” Wanting to comfort him, she reached out to take his hand.

He looked almost surprised with the contact. “I hardly know.” The bewilderment was clear on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“I…I was worried, when I showed up that maybe…maybe you had disappeared on purpose. That perhaps you were angry with me, or that the last letter had been too much.”

Phoibe blushed, but did not withdraw her hand. She remembered the letter. It was all tenderness, the usual humor lost in the intensity of his work, but he had suffused the writing with his thoughts of her.

“Isaak Pallas, what are you saying? Did you think I had stopped caring?” The idea was ridiculous. All she had wanted since that first meeting was to be with him. She had been despondent because he hadn’t come. How bizarre that he might have felt the same?

“I always knew you were too good for me. I wouldn’t be surprised, if…” he shook his head, and then looked her in the eyes.

She studied his features. His dark curly hair had grown in the time since she had seen him. His complexion was sallow with too much time indoors. But the intensity of his eyes was the same. She laughed.

“I’m too good for you? Are you teasing me again?” She put her hand forward as though to poke him, but he caught her hand in his and pulled her to him.

“I will tease you about many things, but never about your value to me.” He brushed her hair away from her face, the thick curls falling over her shoulders.

She looked up at him, held by the intensity of the moment, both stood silently, waiting the other’s movement. Reluctantly, Phoibe stepped back, and Isaak sighed.

“So, my nymph,” Isaak’s voice became light, “what have you been up to these last few days while awaiting my arrival?” He held her hand, and they began to walk.

“Not much, really.” She shrugged. “A lot of weaving, grinding, you know, same old, same old here.” She had intended to tell Isaak all about her meeting with Apollo, write him that very night. However, now that he was there, she felt reticent.

“Yes, well, I’ll take bored with Priska over anxious in the temple of the Horae, any day.”

“The Horae?” She felt nervous.

“Yes.” He sighed again. “Eunomia, I’m sure you know, is the goddess of law.”

Phoibe nodded.

“We’ve been working so hard on setting up treaties. I believe that if we can get some semblance of equality among the people, these attempts to seize power at the expense of the majority would cease. It isn’t right, the oppression of so many…and for what?”

“Do you think it will work?”

“I don’t know, my dear, but I have to hope so, or why am I spending this time away from you?” He bumped ever so lightly into her.

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone not listening to what you have to say.”

“If all they do is listen, it will not be enough. But politics is not such a fun topic of discussion now is it? Let me tell you of an unnerving experience of a colleague of mine. It will make you laugh.” He proceeded to delight her with stories of nonsense and fun, till the laughing had given them both side aches.

“Isaak?”

“Hmmm?”

“Isaak. I don’t want you to treat me as though I’m not smart enough to understand what you do.”

“What?”

“If you take the time to explain something to me, I’m bright enough; I can follow.”

“Is that what you think? Oh, Phoibe.” She could hear the apology in his voice. “I know you are bright, my own shining star. It has nothing to do with you. I don’t like to talk about work. I practice law because I’m good at it, and I hope to make a difference. But what I love… I love to hear you laugh.”

“Yes, but sometimes life makes it hard.” She thought aberrantly of her father.

“Yes, it does,” he sighed. “It is getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

The silence that accompanied them was companionable, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts, but never far from each other.

The next few days were bliss. Isaak came early and stayed late. Priska watched the relationship carefully, but said little.

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, Phoibe’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.