Origin of the Sphinx (2 page)

“Yes, it’s fitting.” Thalla started humming a lullaby as she lifted Phoibe into her arms. As she turned the sun broke free of passing clouds, and light streamed in the window. It looked as though the woman and child were glowing. In that instant, Damon saw his life as it could have been, as it should have been, had last summer not happened.

Knowing what he had with Hera was gone didn’t make him desire her less, but he knew at that moment he would never see her again. He also knew that he still loved Thalla, and seeing her there holding his child was like coming in out of the cold– joy enveloped him.

“Thalla?” He moved forward, barely able to contain the intensity pulsing through him.

She looked up, curious with the shift in Damon’s voice.

He waivered. “It’s wonderful to see you.” His voice throbbed with sincerity, and the depth of his feelings.

“You too, Damon.” She glanced around the room. She had come on impulse, and now realized the inappropriateness of being alone with a single man. She set the babe back in the cradle, and turned as if to go.

Damon was standing in her way.

“Thalla?”

She stood, waiting for him to speak.

“Thalla, I know I’ve done everything wrong, and I don’t deserve anything from you, but …” He took a deep breath, “Did your family accept a bride price? Are you betrothed?”

“I thought it didn’t matter.” Her voice wasn’t cruel, but matter-of-fact. “My uncle said–”

He didn’t let her finish. “I was wrong, Thalla. I was so…” he searched for a word, “imprudent. But… Will you tell me? Am I too late?” He was standing directly in front of her; he could see the tears well up in her eyes and spill over. He brushed them away with his fingertips.

“No, Damon. No one has paid a bride price.” She took his hand as it came up to brush more tears from her face. “Please,” she whispered to him, “please don’t break my heart again.”

He pulled her to him, and held her. “May I come tonight?” He spoke into her hair, and his arms circled her waist. “Would that… Would that be okay?”

She nodded, and then, before he could say anything else, she freed herself from his embrace and was gone.

CHAPTER II

Damon and Thalla were married that winter. Their first few years of marriage were peaceful and happy. Phoibe grew into a cherubic child with a sweet, pleasing temperament. Thalla doted on the little girl.  

Damon was surprised when he returned from the summer grazing a few days earlier than normal, hoping to surprise his little family. He found Phoibe playing in the empty pens, but Thalla wasn’t anywhere near.

“Phoibe, where’s your momma?”

Phoibe ran to meet him, and he swept her up into a hug.

When she was on the ground she answered, “In the house. We had visitors this morning, and she asked that I play outside while they talked. When they left, I tried to go inside, but the door was locked.” She looked up at her father, her features serious for one so young. “Daddy, I think she’s crying.”

A sense of dread filled Damon’s chest. “Who were the visitors?” he asked, his heart thudding.

“I don’t know, Daddy. There was a really pretty lady that gave me a hug, and a man that looked really angry. The lady went in and talked with Momma, but the man just stood outside the door and practiced chopping things.” She pointed to a thick tree that had taken several blows. It looked like it was ready to topple, and Damon knew he would need to attend to it or it would likely crush the house with the next windstorm. Phoibe’s words drew him back. “Are you going to go check on Momma, now? I think you should; she seemed very sad.”

He sighed. A heavy weight had filled his chest. “Yes, darling, I’ll go check on Momma. Will you be okay out here for a little while longer?”

“Yes.”

When Damon reached the door, it was indeed locked. He tapped on the door and called, “Thalla?”

The door flew open. He was startled by her appearance. Her eyes were red and swollen, and tears were still flowing. When he reached for her she pushed him away.

“Thalla?” He plead with her.

She shook her head and walked into the house, leaving him alone in the doorway.

“Thalla?” His voice became urgent as he followed her in. “Thalla, what happened?” But he already knew. There was only one thing that could destroy his happiness.

“You lied to me.” She turned and fixed him with a glare; her finger marked him with accusation. “Do you even love me, or did you just need someone to help raise your daughter?”

“Who came? Who told you?”

“Who do you think?” She spat. She paused, and took a deep breath. “Her mother, her real mother, Hera.” Her voice wept with the betrayal.

A fresh round of tears started, but Thalla let Damon put his arms around her.

He stroked her hair and whispered “Shhh, shhh. I love you, Thalla. Shhh.”

She pulled away to look him in the eye. “Do you really?”

“Yes, Thalla. I love you.” The twinge of guilt he felt was for lying about Phoibe, at least that’s what he told himself.

She sighed. “I guess you must, or she wouldn’t have been so upset, or made such a threat. Do you want to hear her message?”

“She gave you a message for me?”

Another sigh. “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll like it. She told me that you will never raise her daughter with my children.”

“What?” The pieces refused to come together in his brain. It made no sense. “What did she mean?”

“Don’t you see? If we keep Phoibe here with us, we will never have children of our own. I can’t have children if Phoibe stays with us.”

A wave of nausea rolled through him. “She means to make me choose? Choose between you and Phoibe? I… I don’t understand it.” He sat shaking his head, his thoughts a mess of confusion.

“No, Damon,” Thalla’s voice was soft, and she sat next to him. “She means to make you choose between me and her.”

“But, no. Hera left me. She can’t mean it. How could she mean that?”

Thalla sighed. Her hand rested on his back, her touch grounding him. “Why don’t you go talk it over with Priska?”

“Priska?” Damon was surprised at the suggestion. He knew that Thalla and Phoibe often went to visit the older woman, but he hardly knew her. Somehow, the suggestion seemed a strange déjà vu. When had he heard that before? For whatever reason, he nodded, suddenly believing Priska could help.

“Priska?” Phoibe’s little voice echoed her father’s. “Are you going to Priska’s, Daddy? Can I come, too?”

Damon and Thalla looked at each other, both trying to communicate questions that neither had the answers for.

“All right, baby. Let’s go see Priska. We’ll let your momma have a little nap while we’re gone.”

“Just a minute, Daddy.” The child ran to her bed, grabbed the satiny blanket on it, as well as a doll Thalla had made for her last birthday.

Phoibe went to Thalla and held out her arms for a hug. “I love you, Momma.” She hugged her tightly.

When she let go, Thalla was filled with a sense of loss. “I love you too, Phoibe. Be good and have a nice visit.” Thalla tried to shake the feeling with a smile. She stood and kissed Damon before they left.

The walk to Priska’s was quiet. Both father and daughter had much on their minds. The hour passed quickly, and it wasn’t until they were approaching Priska’s that Damon realized that Phoibe hadn’t said one word during the walk.

“Phoibe, are you all right? You’ve been awful quiet.”

“So have you Daddy. It’s okay, though. We’ve had lots to think about, huh?”

“Yes, I reckon we have.” Damon knelt down to look Phoibe in the eye. They were right outside Priska’s door, but Damon thought he’d better assess the situation before they went inside. “How much did you hear?” He knew the child was smart for her age, no doubt part of the blessing of having divine parentage.

“Enough that I know that Momma isn’t my real momma, and my real momma is jealous. Momma can’t have any children while I live there. And Momma is really sad.”

“She knows?” It was Priska’s rough voice that interrupted.

Damon stood up. “Who? Phoibe?” He looked quizzically at the older woman.

“Thalla. She knows who Phoibe’s real mother is?” Priska’s bright eyes were piercing, pulling the truth from him.

“Yes. Hera came this morning and told her. She also explained that as long as we have Phoibe, Thalla will never be able to have children.”

“Ah. Well, that explains that. I should have known.” Priska shrugged, “Not that I could have told her even if I had known.” She knelt down to Phoibe. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Damon started, but Priska’s hand waived him silent.

Phoibe looked up to her father, and then focused on Priska. “I want you to let me live with you.”

Damon dropped to his knees, and took Phoibe’s face in his hands. “Phoibe! No!”

Phoibe took her father’s hands in hers and her eyes locked on his. “Daddy. It is the only way. You and Momma need this, and I love Priska. You can come and visit, I’m not going away.”

“Phoibe,” Damon’s voice was pleading, and for the moment the role of parent was reversed.

“Daddy.”

“I think it is an excellent idea.” Priska’s voice cut through the swirling emotion. “You always were a bright child, Phoibe. It will be my pleasure to have her here.” Priska turned to Damon, and took in his expression. “Phoibe, child, why don’t you go inside and start tea? I need to speak with your father for a moment.”

“Um, okay, but will you let me say goodbye first?”

“No, dear. You may come out and say your goodbye after your father and I discuss his concerns. We all need to agree to this, and he is your father, so his opinion is the one that matters most.”

Phoibe nodded. “Daddy, think about it, I know it’s the best thing.” She closed the door, and started to put things out for tea. Phoibe was familiar with Priska’s home. She was often there, and Priska was the closest thing Phoibe had to extended family.

When the door had closed, Damon’s eyes hardened with accusation. “Why are you doing this?”

“Damon. You know I am not doing this. Phoibe must be very compassionate, to be willing to leave her family for her father’s sake. She must love you very much, and Thalla too.”

“No. Doesn’t she understand that Thalla and I love her? That we want her there?”

“Of course she does, but she must have been blessed with wisdom beyond her years to be able to see what will happen to her family if she stays. Think about it Damon; how will Thalla feel raising your daughter from a previous relationship? A demigod child who has cursed her to be barren as long as she is in your home? Thalla wants children with you, and now more than ever she will want reassurance from you that you love her. What will happen next spring when you leave for summer grazing? How will Thalla fare then? How would Phoibe fare?”

Damon knew she was right. The sorrow he felt was so strong, it became physical pain. His breathing became ragged, and he struggled to hold back the sobs he knew would come.

“Daddy?” Phoibe had opened the door and was looking at him, reading his face as only a daughter could. She stepped out and closed the door behind. “Daddy.” She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

He could feel her body shaking, but when he pulled back to look her in the face he saw that she too had held back the tears.

“Phoibe, you must know I love you. I also loved your mother, but…” He shook his head, he didn’t know how to explain it to his daughter; he wasn’t even able to explain what had happened to himself. “I will come as often as I can.” He didn’t know what else to say.

Phoibe’s hand rested against her father’s cheek. “I know, Daddy. I love you, too.” She dropped her hand from his face, pulled in close for another hug, and then released him.

He stood silent for a moment; his features looked as if he were lost.

“Go home now, Damon. Go home and be sure to tell Thalla how much you love her.” Priska’s voice was firm, and the instructions gave the direction he so needed.

“Good bye, Priska. Good night, Phoibe.”

“Good night, Daddy.” Without a backward glance Phoibe walked back into the old woman’s home. Priska waited until Damon was almost to the corner, at which point he glanced back. She waved, and then she too headed into the small house.

~ προχωρήσουμε ~

Phoibe’s life of leisure was over. Her first few years had been those of luxury. However, Priska had no slaves. Phoibe found herself doing even the most menial tasks: including cooking and cleaning. Priska never asked Phoibe to do something that she wasn’t also working on, so Phoibe quickly accepted the duties.

Phoibe had learned to spin and weave at home with Thalla, but she had much more opportunity with Priska. She learned people came from as far as Athens to have Priska weave special garments because of her ability to color the wool and weave in almost magical colors.

Phoibe also learned to mill grain, and over time, many began to seek her out as there was little to no chaff in her flour. She also learned to prepare some herbal concoctions to aid in illness or pain, and when Priska went to aid the ill, Phoibe usually accompanied her. She knew that it was unlikely that she would need most of these skills, but she was proud to be learning all the same.

Phoibe saw her father on Sundays, and occasionally during the week if he could come up with a good reason for a visit to Priska’s. Within a year of Phoibe moving into Priska’s home, Thalla and Damon had a baby boy. Phoibe could see how pleased Damon was to have fathered a son, and when a second son was born a year later, she wasn’t surprised when a slave started to bring the grain to be milled for Thalla.

With so much to keep her busy, Phoibe found little time to mourn her old life, and if she had been asked, she would have declared she was quite happy.

~ προχωρήσουμε ~

The years passed, and Phoibe celebrated her birthday, marking her journey into adulthood. The Hestia celebration for Phoibe was small, just her family and Priska. The reclusive life she and Priska lived was sedate, quiet…predictable.

She was fetching dyes for Priska from the merchant in town, when she noticed him. A young man held the door open for her as she left, and his crooked smile seemed to draw her in. Phoibe found herself thinking of him hours later. Despite their seclusion, Phoibe thought she knew all the young adults, at least the ones close to her age. Belen was not a large town. Perhaps he was just visiting family.

Two days later, Phoibe found herself walking back into town. She had been sent to get herbs for Priska, who was often called to act as a midwife. The list of herbs was long, and when it came time to settle the account, Phoibe found she was short the money to pay.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Her face flushed with embarrassment. “Can I bring the rest of the money to you tomorrow, or should I leave the …” She looked at the packages to assess which she could leave until later.

“Phoibe,” Jiri, the stooping old man that owned the shop, interrupted her, “It’s fine. I know you or Priska will pay.”

“What’s the matter?”

Phoibe heard the voice, but didn’t recognize it. When she turned she saw the same young man, again. His gray-green eyes looked at her and then to Jiri.

“Nothing, sir.”

But his eyes seemed to take in the situation without explanation. “How much is she short?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is the remainder of the bill?”

“Sir! I’m not in the habit of discussing other people’s finances—

Looking at Phoibe, the young man tossed 3 silver drachma to Jiri. “That should cover the balance.”

Phoibe let out a small laugh of embarrassment. “Sir, I have the money to pay Jiri.”

“No need, you little nymph. He’s already been paid.” He turned his back on Jiri and held the door to the Apothecary open for Phoibe. “Now, how about you tell me your name?”

Her surprise slowed her wit. “Phoibe,” was all she could reply.

“Well, Phoibe, I’m Isaak. Would you let me assist you with those packages if I promise not to drop them?” He winked at her, and she blushed.

“I’m not sure if Priska would be okay with that.”

“What? Who’s Priska?”

“She’s my aunt.”

“Your aunt. I see. Well, how’s this: if you don’t want me to help you, I won’t; but nothing is going to stop me from following you home. So how about you let me carry that bundle while I follow you?” He was clearly teasing, but the banter was warm, and Phoibe found herself quite taken with the young man.