Chapter 2: The Mischief

The air of the sleeping-chamber seemed to palpitate with the calmness until a roar of thunders erupted from the throne room. Venus rose from her bed with a start. She waved the palace maids away when she heard a knock on her golden door.

The maids came back with a messenger.

"Father Jupiter has summoned all the gods to his court," the man said with a deep bow. "There is a judgment to be made, my lady."

Venus's perfect brows furrowed. Jupiter normally passed his judgments by himself. If this trail demanded high attention by the council of the twelve gods, it meant no small case.

Venus donned her favorite purple mantle of silk with golden embroidery and golden circlets. Once she reached the court, she found that all the gods were already present.

Every time the goddess went passed the threshold, everyone always glanced at her perfect beauty. She liked making an entrance and being a little late suited her heart's intention, but today the air thickened with discomfort. Hardly anyone noticed her. It put a sting in her ego, but the goddess kept her head high and strode towards her richly crested throne.

Everything was silent until the high golden dome of the court coiled with a funnel storm then lightning struck. Jupiter appeared out of the bright flash and resumed his kingly seat.

"Bring forth Lord Apollo!" the herald's cry echoed through the great hall.

A moment later, Apollo appeared with two palace guards. He was one of the proud twins of Latona and Jupiter. Venus's piercing eyes sought for Cupid but saw no sight of her daughter.

Apollo was brought to his knees before his father, but his face remained unfazed by the authority. He stared back at his sire without fear.

"Son," Jupiter spoke. "You have made a grave mistake out of spite. Now confess your crime and pledge guilty or else I shall punish you severely."

"I have nothing to confess, father," said Apollo. "You slew my son with your thunderbolt and I avenged his death by slaying all your Cyclopes."

Venus soon learned the matter from the gossiping gods. Apollo fell in love with Coronis, a princess of Thessaly, and insisted on having his way, which was unwise of him since she loved an Arcadian prince named Ischys. When she was with child, Apollo went on a journey but set a white crow to spy on her. All crows were white then, and were excellent chaperons; they had sharp eyes and jeering voices. It was to Delphi that Apollo had gone. An oracle there told him that at that very moment Coronis was entertaining young Ischys. Just then the white crow flew in, wildly excited, full of scandals and gossips, telling the same story.

Apollo was livid.

"Your fault! You did not watch her closely enough!" cried Apollo. And he cursed the crow with a curse so furious that its feathers were scorned and all crows became black ever since. Apollo could not bring himself to kill Coronis for her betrayal. He asked his sister Diana, the goddess of hunting and maidens, to oblige him. Pity on her broken-hearted brother, Diana agreed and sped to Thessaly and finished Coronis with one arrow.

The sun god forgot that he had a son named Asclepius with the dead princess. He sent the boy to Mercury who delivered him to Chiron. The centaur, a fabulous tutor of heroes, taught the boy lessons of diagnostics, surgery, herpetology, and hunting.

The boy doctored everyone he could get his hands on and was soon known throughout the land for his skill at curing the sick. His fame reached his father Apollo, who decided to test him. One night, the god appeared at Asclepius's door in the guise of a feeble old man afflicted with every loathsome disease known to medicine.

Asclepius tended him with his own hands and was so gentle and skillful that Apollo, who was the god of medicine himself, was amazed. He resumed his own form and embraced the lad and told him he was pleased with his knowledge. Apollo then sent him to see his aunt Minerva, who knew certain secrets of immortality. She too approved of the young boy and gave him two vials of Gorgon blood. One vial could raise the dead, the other was the deadliest poison ever known.

"No, Aunt," said Asclepius. "I need only the first vial for I am a doctor. You keep the other."

Later, he grew even more competent with his ability that he snatched several patients from the very gates of Tartarus. The Dark Queen of the Underworld was enraged. Jupiter worried for the peace of Olympus and the law of nature. He stood from his throne and hurled a lightning bolt, killing the young physician together with the patient he was tending.

When Apollo heard about this, he went into one of his wild heedless rages, battered in the doors of Vulcan's smithy, and there slew all the cyclopes, who had forged the weapon which had killed his son.

"You ingrate!" Jupiter cried. "I brought you to Olympus and made you a god among us. Now you grow your pride and disrespect me, your father. Well then, I shall banish you to Tartarus forever!"

The council gods gasped in shock. This was the most terrible punishment that ever placed upon a god.

But just as the voices ceased, Goddess Diana brought her mother into the throne room. Latona, the gentlest of all the goddesses, came to kneel beside Jupiter's throne.

"My lord, please, forgive our child," she said with tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. "Apollo grieved the loss of his beloved son, and sorrow had blinded him from reasons. Forgive him, my lord, for my sake if you must. He is our son, a bright boy you have given me with love and passion."

Venus watched the goddess spoke so beautifully, reminding him of their old love that the King of Gods relented. At last, Jupiter heaved a sigh and withdrew the edict of Apollo's banishment, and even agreed to bring Asclepius back to life.

Seeing the event unfolded before her, Venus grew bitten with envy. She considered herself a favorite of Jupiter, but the King had never done so much for her. Her heart held malice against Apollo for being favored, and she wanted to do him a mischief.

When she returned to her palace, Venus summoned her daughter Cupid, the Archeress, whose sweetly poisoned arrows infect mortals with the most dangerous fever. Venus told her daughter what she wanted.

Cupid's bright green eyes widened in surprise. Both excitement and hesitation mixed like the river Styx in her heart. She was always eager to shoot her arrows, and even more so when her targets were someone powerful. Cupid wanted to prove that she was the best at archery, and not even the twins could match her skills.

Cupid obeyed her mother and had two kinds of arrows ready in her quivers -one tipped with gold and tailed with white dove feathers; these were for love. The others, made of lead, with brown owl feathers; these were the arrows of indifference. The young goddess took up her bow then flew away to stalk her game.

Apollo, she knew, was hunting, so she made his path cross that of Daphne, a mountain nymph, daughter of the river god Penaeus. Then, fluttering above them, invisible, she pulled back her bowstring and shot Apollo with the dart of love then Daphne with the arrow of indifference.

Immediately, the poison took effect on the god, polluting his ichor with a flaming passion. His heart pounded as his stomach rolled with craving. Then he felt his feet sprinting and sprinting, going towards the maiden.

When the golden god came running down the slope towards the nymph, he saw her start and run away. He could not understand it. She fled and the god pursued. Daphne was a very swift runner, but great footsteps still stomped behind her, and she felt the heat of his breath on her shoulders.

The nymph ran towards the river and cried, "Oh Father, save me! Save me!"

And her father heard. Apollo, reaching for her lovely form, but found himself hugging a tree; the rough bark scratched his fair face.

"But why?" the sun god cried. "Why do you hate me so?"

The wind blew through the leaves, and they seemed to whisper, "I don't know...I don't know..."

Apollo was heartbroken and wept. The tree took pity on the grieving god and gave him a gift - a wreath of her leaves, laurel leaves, that would never wither -to crown heroes, and poets, and young men who win games. When questioned by losers how they won, laurel winners would whisper, "I don't know...I don't know..."

And Apollo wore her wreath of laurel leaves ever since.