The Valkyrie (15 page)

***

“Oh gods you
scared me.” Coronis said as she turned to face the figure who had
appeared besides her. For a moment she thought he had just
materialised next to her out of thin air but that was hardly a
sensibly thought, he must have been light of foot.

“Sorry about
that.” The handsome stranger said, smiling wide. It was one of
those smiles that made girls take a deep breath and recite over and
over in their heads ‘don’t say anything weird, don’t say anything
weird, don’t say anything weird.’

“That’s quite
alright.” Coronis said, ‘don’t say anything weird’ running through
her mind at a pace.

“I’m Apollo,
who are you?” Apollo overawed the girl. You do not need a good
opening line when you look like that.

“The blacksmith
from the next village over?” No one had told her that the
blacksmith was that cute otherwise she would have concocted some
metallic need to mope around outside his smithy.

“No, the other
one.”

“Which other
one? I’m Coronis by the way.”

And that was
how Asclepius was conceived.

***

Now when gods
have sex with mortals they inevitably conceive. The hyper fertile
Olympians all knew very well about contraception but they didn’t
bloody use it, despite some of the difficulties this could have
saved them in the marriage bed. Their demigod children act as their
agents of change on the Earth, performing their parent’s wishes
directly. Well that’s a rational explanation, the other slightly
more likely one is that they’re ‘lads’ and they need to prove
it:

Example One:
“Babe, I don’t like the feel of condoms. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
This has been used many, many a time by a wide variety of immortals
the world over. The close relative of this is saying that they have
a condom when they don’t.

Example Two:
“Well we’re going to get married so why not.” Have you told your
wife Hera/Aphrodite/Amphrite/Persephone/Ariadne etc. that?

Example Three:
“I can’t have kids.” Sure…

Example Four:
And then of course there’s the ultimate lad option, not giving her
a say. Rape is the most efficient way to breed a small army of
human hybrids with super intelligence, strength, speed and agility.
Those poor cannon fodder children, used in their parent’s petty
little squabbles: Troy, The Crusades, Flanders Fields et cetera ad
infinitum.

***

After that one
tedium relieving shag three months before Coronis was both bored to
death and feeling slightly nauseous. Another beautiful stranger
rocked up to her hamlet. Well she’d already done it once why not do
it again. Unbeknown to Coronis there were the crows sent by Apollo
to watch over (spy on) his beloved. Doing their duty the loyal
crows flew back to their master and told him of Coronis’s
infidelity. Apollo was so appalled by their report that he turned
them black from white for their lies. Then the god realised that
the wretched crows had been right.

A foul darkness
befell Apollo. He couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. He
couldn’t be bothered to play his lyre. He couldn’t be bothered to
cruise gymnasiums for supple teenage boys. Eventually his sister
took charge of the situation.

“Look, just
kill her already.” Artemis said.

“But, but,
but…” Apollo muffled into his pillow.

“Fine I’ll
bloody do it.” Artemis said. Apollo lifted his head from his pillow
and nodded at his sister. That resolution had cheered him up.

Coronis was
outside pegging the washing out. Next thing she knew Apollo popped
up in full Olympian glory.

“You’re a
whore,” Apollo said “and I want to watch you die close up.”

“What? But I’m
three months pregnant with your child.” Coronis said as Artemis’s
dart ploughed straight through her breast. That was the end of
Coronis. The arrow had shot through a fluttering piece of cloth and
pinned it to the girl’s body like a domestic shroud.

***

Apollo felt
nothing. As they placed Coronis’s body on the funeral pyre, Apollo
felt nothing. As her mother sobbed and beat her fists into
Coronis’s father’s chest, Apollo felt nothing. As the mourners said
their prayers to Hades, Apollo felt nothing. As the torch
approached, Apollo felt nothing. As the flames began to lick her
body, Apollo felt something. He did not feel anything for that
little hussie but he felt for his own flesh about to burn. He
pleaded with his brother Hermes to cut the child out of that
ungrateful womb and took him to Chiron, the centaur that trained
heroes, to be raised. This was the birth of Asclepius.

***

Asclepius had
inherited his father’s gift for healing. The mortals even built
temples in his honour. There was one ailment however that he had
yet to figure out a cure for: death. He slaved away at the ultimate
problem for an age until Asclepius managed to bring back Hippolytus
from the dead. Now this was in direct conflict with divine law.
When Zeus had overthrown his father he divided the world between
himself and his brothers Hades and Poseidon. Zeus took the land and
the heavens; Poseidon the sea; and Hades got the underworld and
ruled over a portion of the dead. Asclepius had thus offended his
great uncle. How dare this young upstart challenge Hades’s rule, if
he could resurrect Hippolytus then why not resurrect them all?
Where would Asclepius stop?

***

“Brother, I
will not have my sovereignty challenged like this.” Hades said, on
one of the rare occasion he ventured above.

“He probably
means nothing by it.” Zeus was thoroughly disinterested, as he had
recently spotted a shepherdess he liked the look of.

“Do something
about it or I will. This could get ever so ugly brother.” Hades
stood his ground, he hated living in the underworld but he wasn’t
going to lose it either.

“What are you
implying, war? Fine, consider the matter settled.” Zeus picked up a
lightning bolt and flung it as his grandson with little
reflection.

***

Apollo took
this very badly, very badly indeed. In revenge for his son’s murder
Apollo killed the Cyclopes who fashioned Zeus’s thunder bolts. Now
it was Zeus’s turn to take things poorly. He decreed that Apollo
should be sentenced to an eternity in Tartarus.

“But darling is
that really a good idea?” Leto asked all bedroom eyes and push up
bra.

“Such blatant
disregard for my authority warrants a response. Don’t look at me
like that. Well what else could I possibly do?” Zeus looked Leto up
and down, she still had it.

“Well the real
question is what can I do?” Leto asked leaning towards Zeus. He
could tell she was wearing a cracking bra underneath her
chiton.

“I’ll wear a
condom this time.” Zeus said, and that was that. Apollo was
sentenced to one years’ hard labour on earth. Zeus resurrected
Asclepius but under the agreement that he would keep a low profile
and wouldn’t live in Olympus any more. That was the first time that
Apollo had openly rebelled against his father, but was it because
he cared for his son or because the opportunity presented
itself?

Glory had been born
during the tail end of the Roman Empire. Britannia thought that
knocking off Zeus and giving birth to his favoured child would
prevent the Norse and the Celts from giving her much trouble. That
of course didn’t work and Britannia endured a good few hundred
years or so of chaos before her territory was consolidated by the
Normans and it was another five hundred years before the Empire
could begin seriously. It was what the mortals have come to call
the Dark Ages. Zeus had taken his eye off the ball and the Norse
had gained ground on Olympus. Then that Jesus bloke had trumped
them all by offering a better afterlife than Hades, Hel, Osiris or
any of the other death gods were prepared to provide even if in
reality it was all bollocks. Their temples fell to ruin. It wasn’t
until the Renaissance that the mortals even bothered to pay any
attention to Olympus and even then they didn’t believe it, they
were merely trinkets from a previous age and inspiration for
self-involved romantic poets. In truth neither Olympus nor Asgard
had recovered from the advent of Christianity.

Glory was
twenty years old when Apollo finally took notice of his young
half-sister. Britannia had kept her under lock and key. When he saw
her for the first time he fell in love so hard he thought he’d been
punched in the gut by a giant. He even went as far as accusing Eros
of malice. To which the youth protested and threatened to shoot
Glory with a hate arrow if he continued with such false
allegations. Apollo’s allegations relented once Eros had sworn on
Styx that he hadn’t an ulterior motive, that Apollo and Glory were
a fixed point in time that was always going to be fated, and that
it had been a standard procedure. Thus Apollo began pursuing her in
earnest. Glory was a virgin. Apollo loved virgins.

Young Glory was
idealistic, full of hope and untroubled. Her mother had recently
agreed to her betrothal to Thor and she was mentally preparing for
her upcoming nuptials. Not that Apollo knew this yet, he didn’t
even know her name. Apollo had never seen a more beautiful goddess;
she far surpassed Aphrodite because he could see the wit and warmth
behind her eyes. This was it, the big one: his wife. He needed to
tread carefully, he couldn’t fuck it up like all the others, only
Eros (and probably Aphrodite but she was too busy getting laid)
knew. The less potential for meddling from the family the better it
would work out.

As his initial
intentions were pure(ish), for a change, Apollo thought the best
possible start would be to formally introduce himself to Glory and
her mother, so he called on them in their great hall Avalon. Avalon
was a wooden structure like those common to nobles across northern
Europe at the time. Though Britannia being Britannia, Avalon was
far grander than that and rivalled even Odin’s hall in scale. The
beams were intricately carved, the fire always roared when it was
cold outside, and they had a beautiful apple orchard in the
grounds. Apollo dressed in his most pleasing manner and rode over
in his chariot.

“Good morning
madam, and greetings from Olympus.” Apollo said as he entered
Avalon all smiles and cordiality. He made warm eye contact with
Britannia as he bowed. He couldn’t steady his nerves enough to look
at Glory.

“Good morrow
Apollo. It is a pleasure to see you as ever. What brings you to our
humble hall?” Britannia wondered what on earth this errant Olympian
could want with them. It wasn’t news as Hermes, the messenger,
would have delivered it. It must be something else. Perhaps her
chance had come at last to make use of her daughter on Olympus. She
could break the betrothal to Thor no problem or even play Asgard
off against Olympus for some concessions to her sovereignty.
Britannia had had her eye on Gaul for some time.

“Well I
realised that it had been quite some time since we met last and
then I realised that I had been remiss in not introducing myself to
your daughter.” Apollo finally smiled at Glory. Glory was not
particularly responsive. She was of course getting married in a
week and was distracted by this thought. He sat next to her on a
bench.

“How very kind
of you to call upon us. I’m frightfully sorry though. I’ve got to
dash I’ve got a meeting with Odin over these bloody Saxons.”
Britannia said. This was the first time an Olympian had
acknowledged Glory as one of their own. She wasn’t going to waste
the opportunity of leaving the pair alone. “Excuse me. It was a
pleasure to see you again.”

“Have a
pleasant journey to Asgard.” Apollo bowed to Britannia as she
exited the hall. He then turned and stared at Glory expectantly
until the poor girl felt the need to speak and put an end to the
awkward silence. She couldn’t fathom why he was in her mother’s
hall or why her mother invented a meeting in Asgard before leaving
them improperly alone together.

“Would you like
something to drink? We have ale and some mead if you would like
either?” Glory was nothing if not polite.

“Ale would be
lovely thank you.” Apollo tried to steady himself and not jump
ahead to the sex part as his beloved went in search of refreshment.
This was a delicate situation. Glory came back from fetching the
ale, their fingers grazed as Glory handed one goblet to him and
they both felt the pleasant jolt of physical attraction shoot
through their veins.

“So what keeps
you busy?” Apollo wanted to know what she did with her day, what
she dreamt about, what small thoughts preoccupied her. He wanted to
know everything about her and he wanted to embrace and make them
his too.

“Well mostly
I’ve been preparing for the wedding next week.” Glory said as she
picked up the sewing that had been absorbing her earlier.

“Who’s
wedding?” His heart was in his mouth. This girl was enchanting. Her
words glamoured him and when he looked into her eyes all he could
see were starry nights wrapped in her arms.

“Mine.” Glory
still hadn’t fathomed the reason for Apollo’s interest in her. In
those days she was charmingly naïve. The dream world that Apollo
had concocted for the pair just burnt like a paraffin bitch.

“Oh, who’s the
lucky god?” Apollo was trying to calculate the odds of him
challenging them to a fight for Glory and winning.

“To Thor,
Odin’s son,” Glory had noticed that her half-brother had flinched
for a nanosecond.

“He is a nice
guy.” Apollo reined in the rage. He didn’t fancy his odds in hand
to hand combat with that brute.

“He is yes.”
Glory said. Apollo moved closer to her on the bench.

“You don’t seem
that bothered.” Apollo seized his opening.

“Well I’ve only
met him twice. My mother arranged it so I have no real choice in
the matter.” She started to feel a little sleepy and she yawned.
“Goodness I am sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”