The Nymph & I

"But I think maybe all this time, you confused sex with love," she said. "I suppose that now we must go back to how things were before. Me to my hunting, you to being a God and, what about you, what will you do?"

"I'm to be married soon," I said despondently.

Apollo kissed me. "I am cured. I no longer feel the magnetic pull that drew me to the tree, day in, day out. My head feels lighter. I can think of other things again. Farewell," he said, sprouting wings and flying upwards. We watched him ascend until he was just a tiny black pinprick against the clouds.

Later that day, as I tried to sneak into my bedchamber, a hand grabbed my dress.

"Not so fast, young lady." It was Mopsie.

After that, father had guards stationed outside the door of my bedchamber. I was to be married in a fortnight. He could take no more chances. He knew that I bribed the staff to help me escape, so now I saw no one, spoke to no one. At night I dreamt feverish dreams of Apollo and Daphne, of how, spent from our exertions, we had slept soundly, our limbs tangled together. Blissfully sated, I had been roused by the sun on my eyelids.

I awoke to the sound of Mopsie slamming the door of my chamber. It was my wedding day.

"Get up, it is growing late," said Mopsie, shaking my arm. "The child is finished with your preparations."

I wandered sleepily to the window and looked down at the courtyard, at the chariots being decorated with flowers. I thought of the spice merchant. How would his body smell on our wedding night? I wondered might he smell of spices of the orient; of cinnamon, cloves, of cumin seeds and cardamom pods. But I knew it was all a fanciful dream. Father had made me kiss him once to seal our engagement. His breath had smelt of meat thrown in the street and left to grow rancid.

I left the room and hurried down to the bathhouse. There crouched a flaxen headed child that had been specially appointed to fill my bath on this momentous day. The symbolism was not lost on me: this bath was to purify me, the child's presence should induce fertility. I was to be made pure again, although I had been married before, made a widow at seventeen, and since then remained at my father's house, a huge burden to him. How glad he was, I knew, to finally be rid of me.

The child finished sprinkling rose petals on the water's surface.

"Thank you," said I, dismissing her. The petals gave off a heady scent that made my head spin. I was transported back to the time when I had lapped between Daphne's thighs. I wanted her more than the spice merchant, more than Apollo.

In the courtyard the trumpets sounded, I heard chariot wheels rattling on cobbles, as the spice merchant came to claim his bride. I went down the steps into the pool. The petals parted to let me through.

I thought of what lay ahead, a life filled with duty, with dull routine. I lay back in the water, my hair a halo around me, trying to forget that the ceremony was imminent.

A voice roused me. Daphne's face, bloodied and streaked with mud, grinned impishly at me through the window. She clambered in and jumped to the floor.

"Come on, let's go," she said urgently.

I left the pool in such a hurry that ripples crashed over its borders, showering the surrounding tiles with petals. Hastily I drew my gown over my wet skin. Don't be absurd, I thought. Do you really think one as pampered as you can live on love?

I hesitated. "But, where will we go?"

"To the forest of course." I thought of the servants who prepared my breakfast, laid out my clothes, braided my hair and brought me sweetmeats when I tinkled a bell.

"It's impossible." Again the trumpets sounded and I was afraid. The spice merchant would be wondering what kept me so long. Soon Mopsie would be sent to find me.

"Come. I know a way." She led me down the stairs to the servants' quarters, which were empty, for the servants were busy laying out the banquet in the dining hall.

I ran after her, my gown billowing behind me. We raced across the garden. She scrambled up over a high wall and I hesitated at the bottom.

Behind me I heard a shout. "There goes Lady Sera!"

"Come on," she urged, her long black hair glued to her forehead with perspiration as she stretched her hand down to me.

"Get her!" cried another voice. My heart hammered in my chest. But then I looked into her amber eyes and found myself lost. I grabbed her hand and climbed the wall, aware of the footsteps behind me on the gravel path.

Then I was over the wall. We ran like the wind, hair streaming out behind us. I was free.

High up on Mount Parnassus, Eros watched two girls racing across a field. Beside him lay two arrows. One had a sharp tip and was golden. The other was blunted and tipped with lead. These mortals are so infuriating, thinking they can interfere with the will of the Gods, he thought, as he stuck the lead tipped arrow into his bow and took aim. Damn it, those girls are running fast.

He drew back his bow. He fired.

© 2002 Emma Kaufmann.