Cupid Read online

  Suddenly, she became aware that Apollo was laughing. What had happened? Apollo did not laugh, having no sense of humor that anyone had ever been able to find. Venus noticed him pointing at Cupid, who had just come onto the porch with his bow and quiver to go practice.

  "Well, well, well. Isn't this cute?" Apollo laughed again. He picked up his enormous bow from the floor beside his chair. "With this bow and an arrow, I killed Python, a serpent who had been terrorizing everyone and whose girth covered many acres across the plains. Little boy, what do you think you can do with that tiny bow and those tiny arrows?" His manner turned serious. "The bow and arrow are my weapons. Find something else to amuse yourself with."

  Venus saw Cupid's eyes narrow.

  "Apollo? I think you should apologize to Cupid. He doesn't like being made fun of," Venus said, great concern in her voice.

  Apollo looked at her scornfully. "Apologize to a child? Surely, you speak in jest."

  "Apollo. Dear. You don't understand. I really think you should apologize. You obviously don't know my son."

  "I'm sure he can do many wonderful things that gladden his mother's heart, but I am Apollo. What could this child possibly do to me?"

  "Oy vey," Venus said quietly. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

  Cupid had already strung his bow with a gold-tipped arrow. Then in a voice that was more like a man's than a child's, he said to Apollo, "Your bow and arrow have power over that which is without. Mine has power over that which is within." He pulled on the bow and let the arrow go straight into Apollo's heart. At that instant, Daphne, the beautiful nymph, daughter of Peneus the river god, came into Apollo's view. Quickly Cupid took an arrow tipped with lead and shot it into her heart.

  The eyes of Apollo and Daphne met. Love gripped Apollo like the talons of an eagle piercing the warm, quivering flesh of a rabbit. But enmity claimed Daphne's heart. Apollo looked at her with love-filled eyes; Daphne regarded him with cold hatred. Apollo saw the revulsion on her face, but he was certain that, in time, she would come to love him as much as he loved her.

  But he was wrong. The potion from Cupid's arrow coursed through Daphne's veins and chilled any warmth she might have felt for Apollo, or any man. The very thought of being responsible for a man's emotions disgusted her. Why would a woman allow herself to become entangled in men's feelings and desires? The idea of a man touching her body was repulsive. If she had thought Jupiter would take her seriously, she would have asked him to decree marriage a crime, and any man who approached a woman with even the thought of marriage would be sent into exile. But she knew that Jupiter's love of women rendered him incapable of understanding how she felt.

  Poor Daphne. Every time she looked around, there was Apollo with that pitiful look on his face men get when they fall in love. He followed her from the time she got up in the morning until she went to bed at night, and then he slept on the ground outside her bedroom window.

  Apollo was probably the first stalker in history, except, back in those days, people didn't know anything about stalking, which is why Daphne didn't go to the police and get a restraining order against him. The only defense she had was to run as fast as she could every time she saw him staring at her like a cocker spaniel wanting to come in out of the rain.

  The day came when Daphne had enough. She stepped outside her house that particular morning and there was Apollo, standing in the yard with a bunch of wildflowers he had picked himself, and a big basket of chocolates. The sight of all that chocolate was tempting. A woman will put up with a whole lot from a man if he keeps her supplied with chocolate. But as much as Daphne loved chocolate, it wasn't enough to make her forget how much she hated feeling a man's emotion reaching out for her like a vine seeking a tree to wrap itself around.

  "Go away! Leave me alone!" she yelled at Apollo.

  Instead of doing what she asked, he started reciting a love poem he had gotten Erato, the muse of literature, to write for him. Now, I know you men think women go for poetry. Some do, but a whole lot don't. You could be reciting your poetry and the young lady will look like she's interested, when what she's thinking is "What's up with the poetry, and how many other girls has he read that poem to?" However, I will tell you two things no woman can resist. Number two is cook dinner for her. Women get weak in the knees when they find out a man can cook. But number one works even better than that. If a woman knows you listen to her and take seriously what she says, she will give you her heart, body, and soul. It is obvious that Apollo was retarded when it came to listening. He kept hearing yes when she was saying no.

  Daphne took off running. She was fast, but she had never run as fast as she did that morning. She was determined to get away from Apollo once and for all. She might have done so if Cupid had not been watching. He saw that Apollo was tiring and was falling farther and farther behind Daphne. So what did Cupid do? He shot another arrow into Apollo, which gave him new energy.

  Daphne thought she had outrun Apollo. She stopped and looked back, expecting to see him standing in the road, trying to catch his breath. Instead he was running faster than ever, and if she didn't do something, he was going to catch her. Daphne would rather die than become the property of a man.

  She called out to her father, Peneus. "Save me, Father! Make the earth open up and swallow me, or change me into something so I can escape this danger."

  No sooner had she spoken than her body became stiff. Bark began growing on her legs, abdomen, breasts, and face, and her hair turned to leaves. Apollo reached her just as her transformation into a tree was completed.

  Apollo looked at the tree and saw how graceful and beautiful it was. He put his arms around it.

  "Henceforward, this shall be my tree," he declared. "I will wear your leaves in a wreath around my head. Emperors will wear wreaths of your leaves around their heads when they parade in triumph through the streets. Because I am eternally young, so shall you be also. Your leaves will always be green and never get old and fall to the ground."

  And to this day, wreaths are made from the leaves of the laurel tree.

  Since then, Cupid had made a point of staying out of Apollo's way, even at the semiannual Gods and Goddesses Solstice Banquet and Dance, when everyone drank so much mulled nectar that even Jupiter and Juno didn't quarrel.

  Now Cupid had to go to Apollo's palace and convince him to tell the king what Cupid wanted him to say. But Apollo couldn't lie. Well, if Cupid had his way—and he would—this was one time Apollo was going to lie.

  Cupid Meets with Apollo

  Of all the palaces on Olympus, Apollo's was the largest. It had to be, because he was responsible for so many activities. The palace stood at the center of Olympus. It had a round central building with passageways radiating from it to other buildings like the threads in a spider's web. The complex was made of long, dark slabs of the unknowable future, while the central building was composed of pale red slivers of hope.

  Cupid tried to stay away from the center of Olympus, and not only because he was afraid of encountering Apollo. He also wanted to avoid Jupiter, who, if he saw Cupid, would ask him to shoot a golden arrow into the heart of every woman Jupiter desired. Cupid did not think he could make that many arrows.

  As he began walking up the broad steps to Apollo's palace, he smiled at the cacophony of sounds coming from within—women singing, playing instruments, and loudly declaiming poetry. Cupid remembered seeing an item in the Olympus weekly newsletter, which said that the nine muses were coming for their semiannual conference, where they shared with each other and Apollo what they had inspired humans to create in the past six months. At the end of the week, there would be an arts festival, where they would perform for all the inhabitants of Olympus and invited guests.

  Cupid liked the muses. Like him, they were winged, and several times a year, he and they would take a day or two off from their respective duties and go flying for the sheer joy of it. He was also fond of them because they provided the songs, poetry, and dances used by the lovers who had b
een struck by one of his gold-tipped arrows.

  When Cupid entered Apollo's palace, he saw in front of him a broad staircase to the second floor. To his right and left were hallways leading to the many wings of the palace.

  From the first hallway on his left, he identified the voice of Calliope singing as Euterpe's flute played a lovely harmonic line. His attention was then drawn to the third corridor on his right, where someone was singing a dirge-like melody while two others recited poetry.

  The voices sounded familiar to Cupid, but it was a moment before he recognized Melpomene's voice singing, and Terpsichore and Erato declaiming poetry.

  Hearing nothing coming from the hallway to his immediate left, Cupid decided to see if Apollo might be in one of the rooms there. When he opened the door at the hallway's end, he found himself in a large room whose floor was covered with papers so deep that they came to his knees. Clio, the muse of history, sat at a desk in the center of the room, writing furiously. As she finished each sheet of paper, she pushed it to the floor and continued writing on the next.

  Cupid left quietly and went back along the hallway until he noticed a door was ajar. He peeked inside. Thalia, muse of comedy, sat in a window seat, chuckling at Polymnia, muse of mime, in the center of the room. He watched, transfixed, as Polymnia placed the palms of her hands against the air as if she were touching a wall. He could not remember how many times he had seen Polymnia act as if she were trapped within the four walls of a room. No matter how many times he saw her do this, he still did not understand how she was able to make him see a wall when none existed. Shaking his head, he returned to the entranceway and went down the hallway directly across from the one he had just explored.

  He opened the door of the first room he came to and looked inside. The walls of this room were covered with lists of diseases and the names of the herbs that would cure the disease or relieve the discomfort of the symptoms. The room itself was filled with long tables on which lay piles of herbs, plants, and roots. At each table young men and women sat, filling bottles and jars.

  Cupid left and went to the doors of the other rooms, but these were all locked. This was probably where Apollo kept the plagues and pestilences that he periodically set loose on mortals when he became bored with them.

  Returning again to the entranceway, Cupid decided to go up to the next floor. Here, too, he found himself in a large round area with hallways radiating from it. In the first room off the corridor to his right he saw Urania, muse of astronomy. She was looking out the window and through the veil that kept mortals from seeing Olympus but through which the deities could see the world. Down there it was night, and Cupid watched as Urania pointed her finger at something with one hand and wrote with the other.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "I'm naming every star in the night sky of the mortals."

  "That's a big job! It'll take forever."

  "Well, how much time do you think I have?"

  "You have a point. I hate to interrupt, but would you happen to know where Apollo is?"

  "He saw you coming up the steps and got upset. I've never seen him so agitated. He's afraid you're coming to shoot another one of your arrows into his heart."

  Cupid smiled. "Oh, really."

  "Really! He's in his chambers across the hall."

  "Thanks. May I ask you a question?"

  "Sure."

  "Why are you telling me this?"

  "Oh, to get back at him for making me muse of astronomy. Do you know how hard it is to come up with a name for every star?"

  "I don't understand. Why do the stars need names?"

  Urania looked surprised. "When they want to talk to each other, don't you think they get tired of saying 'Hey, you!' and having ten billion stars all shout, 'Who? Me?'"

  "Why don't you have the stars name themselves?"

  Urania thought for a moment. "I never thought of that. That's a great idea. You have no idea how hard this job is. Just last week I lost my place and couldn't figure out for the life of me whether I had named this one particular star or not. I think there's a star without a name and one with two names—Theodorokus Alleppo. I hate it when I lose my place like that. Thanks for the idea. I'm going to go ask the stars what they think about it."

  Without another word, Urania flew out the window and down to the veil and into the night heavens.

  Cupid crossed the hallway and knocked on the door Urania had indicated.

  There was no answer. He knocked again. No answer. Cupid tried the door. It opened. He entered quietly, closing the door behind him.

  He found himself in another large room. The four walls were shelves filled with scrolls. In the center of the room was a long table. It, too, was covered with scrolls. Cupid picked up an unusually thick one and unrolled it. Inside was a note from Erato: Lord Apollo. I inspired a blind man named Homer to write this. I think you will enjoy it.

  Cupid moved the note aside to read the title: The Odyssey.

  Cupid was not much of a reader, especially if it was a long scroll, and this was the longest one he'd ever seen.

  He set it back on the table and the scroll rerolled itself. He opened another one, on which was a note from Clio.

  "Lord Apollo. Here is the account of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides. I thought I had inspired him to give an objective account of the war, but I fear this is very one-sided. Inspiring humans to write the truth about their history takes every bit of strength I have, and quite frankly, I don't know if it's worth it. I want to put in for some vacation time. I would like to go back in time to the Egyptians. People who wrote in pictures did not lie because it took too much work. Is it all right that I asked for vacation time in a note? Or would you prefer I fill out the Request for Extended Vacation Time form?"

  Cupid put the scroll down. He had to get on with what he came to do. Just then he heard someone trying to stifle a cough. The sound had come from a room in the back of Apollo's chambers.

  This room, too, was filled with scrolls, but Cupid only gave them a cursory glance. However, he did notice one with a note attached: "For J. S. Bach. Mass in B Minor. Do not open until 1749." He had no idea what that meant.

  "Apollo? I know you're in here."

  There was a long silence, and then Apollo emerged sheepishly from a closet.

  "I don't know why you're here and I don't want to know! Just stay away from me," Apollo said firmly.

  "It's all right. I came on business."

  "And what could that be? After what you did to me, I can't imagine what kind of business we could have with each other."

  "Hold on. Don't blame me. If you hadn't made fun of me, nothing would have happened. My mother warned you."

  If there's one thing the gods share with us humans, it is hating to admit when they are in the wrong. Apollo thought for a moment, trying to find a way to get out of losing face to Cupid. He considered the matter from the front side and the back, up, down, and sideways, and when he finished, things still looked the same.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and, in a soft, barely audible voice, said, "Well, as loath as I am to admit it, your statement might have some merit. I suppose in my boasting about slaying Python, I might have needed to be taught a lesson."

  Cupid smiled. "I appreciate what you said. As far as I'm concerned, bygones are bygones. I came to talk to you about some here-comes."

  Apollo had no idea what Cupid was talking about. "Speak and tell me what brings you here."

  Cupid told him about Psyche and her father's plans to learn Psyche's future from Apollo what was in Psyche's future. "When the king comes, I would like you to tell him she is to marry me."

  Apollo said, "You know I can do nothing but tell the truth about what I see."

  Cupid made as if to take his bow from around his torso.

  Apollo quickly added, "However, what I see in a person's future is all a matter of how I interpret what I see."

  "Thanks, Apollo. If there's ever anything I can do for you, don't hesitate
to get in touch."

  Apollo narrowed his eyes. "Tell me. How does your mother feel about your infatuation with a mortal?"

  Cupid blushed. "I-I haven't gotten around to telling her yet."

  "You what?" Apollo laughed. "I don't believe it. You're afraid of your mother."

  "You won't tell, will you?" Cupid whispered.

  "If you promise to never again strike me with one of your arrows."

  Cupid shook his head and gave an evil smile. "I don't make deals like that. If you say a word to Venus, I will see to it that one of my arrows is in your heart until the end of eternity."

  Apollo nodded quickly. "OK, OK. I won't say anything to Venus and I'll see what I can do about Psyche."

  "Thanks, Apollo. And I mean it."

  Psyche's Fate

  When the king entered Psyche's chambers the following morning, he saw her standing at a window, looking down at the crowds waiting eagerly for her to make an appearance. He could see the stiff stillness of apprehension in her body.

  "What have I done to you?" he asked quietly.

  Psyche turned around.

  The king saw tears in her eyes. "I have put the wants and needs of others above yours."

  "You are the king," Psyche responded. "The needs of your subjects must take precedence over your own needs and even those of your family."

  The king nodded. "But am I required to sacrifice the well-being and happiness of my youngest daughter?"

  Psyche smiled weakly. "The king's youngest hopes not."

  "So does the king. I am off to the shrine of Apollo. Are you prepared to obey the god's decree?"

  "How can I know until I've heard the decree?"

  "What the god decrees, we must obey."

  "And if I refuse?"