It is no secret that I love mythology. Over the years I have
read and re-read many myths, and yet I still recall the very first one. It’s
about the crow. Let me share it with you….
She was princess
Coronis, daughter of Phlegys, King of Lapiths. And yet she stood on the dias,
speechless. He told her father that he loved her and wanted to be with her. On
some level she recognized that he never mentioned marriage, but she was too
shocked to give voice to it.
Had any other come to
the palace and made such an offer, to have the daughter of the king as a
concubine, his head would be gracing a spike along the palace walls. But this
was no mere man. This was Apollo, the god of medicine and healing, music and
poetry. And he desired her.
So she did as her
father commanded. She submitted to Apollo. He was handsome enough and the
novelty of it all glimmered like gold for many months. Eventually she became
pregnant. She shared this news with Apollo who seemed genuinely happy about it.
But he was gone so
often. Apollo had eternity, an so did not realize what the separation did to
his new consort, a human, confined to a finite span of years. Any peers that she had were no more. She was
the consort of a god. And those she counted among friends now visited her with
tongues filled with poison. They cast their darts, wicked words that stung and
left her in tears. She was so lonely It was this loneliness that led her to the
arms of Ischys, son of Elatus. He was kind and gentle. And she loved him. She
had never loved Apollo. She had been fascinated by him, but she had never loved
him.
They kept the affair
quiet. But such things are hard to keep secret. Apollo had given her a pair of
crows as a gift. Her name, Coronis, meant crow. She could tell no one of her
love for Ischys, but she could tell her crows. She loved the birds and would
often stroke their soft downy white feathers while she extolled the virtues and
virility of her lover. Those confidences would be her undoing
The crows, being the
pets of Apollo, took the news back to him, but he did not believe them. So, he
cursed the crows for telling lies, instantly their feathers turned from downy
white to deepest black.
The seed of doubt had
been planted, and so the son of Zeus watched. He watched as his beloved Coronis
met Ischys in a glen. He watched them lay down together. Then he could watch no
more. Devastated, he poured out his anguish to his twin sister, Artemis.
Artemis, enraged on
behalf of her brother, killed Coronis and threw her body on the funeral pyre.
Apollo killed Ischys in the glen where he and Coronis had been meeting. Coming
to stand beside Artemis at the funeral pyre Apollo took sympathy on the unborn
child and saved it from the fire. He was sure it was his, but did not have the
heart to raise a child by her.
He gave the child that
he named Asclepius to the centaur Chiron. He instructed Chiron to teach him
about medicine and healing. To the crows that he had cursed he made the bird
sacred. Giving it the task of announcing important deaths in an effort to make
amends for his disbelief.
In all of my reading I have yet to find a happy ending in
Greek Mythology. And still the stories call to me, and hold me in thrall. The next
story to capture me was the myth of King Lykaonas of Arcadia.
Lykaonas was the father of 50 sons. They were bold and proud
and thought themselves better than most, and denied themselves nothing. They
invited Zeus to a dinner party. Zeus came, but he had neglected his people.
They were angry and they wanted a sign of his blessing. Proof of his divinity.
A human child was sacrificed and baked into the pie that was
served to the god. Upon tasting it the god immediately knew what it was. He
became enraged. ‘Because you have behaved like an animal, so shall you
become!’ Then Zeus spoke the curse that
had those gathered at the party shaking in fear. Where once the mighty king
stood, now sat a great shaggy beast. Wolf.
Because the king had been a faithful follower, Zeus granted
him a small reprieve. If the king abstained from eating human meat for nine
years he would be returned to his human form.
Then Zeus collected all the pies, but there was not enough
left of the sacrificed boy to revive him. And so, the father of all the gods
made a memorial to the boy in the heavens. A constellation that the king would
see whenever he hunted at night. Forever reminding him of his foolishness for
attempting to trick a god.
It is from this myth that the term Lycanthropy takes its
name. And it is this myth that inspired my novel Lykaia, book one of the SophiaKatsaros series. In Lykaia, Dr. Sophia Katsaros receives a cryptic phone call
from Greece. Her brothers that had been vacationing there are missing. In an
effort to find them she becomes entangled in a 5000 year old mystery
surrounding the ancient king of Arcadia. Along the way she is forced to accept
that there are more things in the world than can be explained. Including the
possibility that one or both of her brothers have become Wolf during an ancient
ritual call the Lykaia.
I had a great time writing Lykaia and am now working on book
2: Erato. In this book Sophia is back, as is the Lykaonas pack. In book 2 the wolves are being hunted and based on the events of the last book, Sophia is
the main suspect. The pack’s enforcers are sent to eliminate her. In an
effort to protect those she loves she makes a deal with the alpha to help find
the killer.
What remains to be seen is if she can find the killer before
the enforcers find her....
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