Bloodline

In that old story, the boy is depicted as delicate, lithe, and beautiful. Ovid had it wrong. Yes, the boy was beautiful, beautiful enough to capture a god’s attention, but he was not delicate. He was anything but delicate, his muscles toned from working the fields. Listen to me; the gods are fairly conventional. A lovely woman is transformed into an old hag, a too-slow voyeur becomes the quick stag to be chased and shot through by a single arrow. So, in the case of this young man, he must have been strong, anything but delicate like these flowers. The gods are convincing when they need to be. Believe me, they are honey-mouthed and persistent. The boy had to be strong, but he was not stronger than the gods. He was seduced; who isn’t seduced by immortality? In the field, the boy was every bit the archer as the god. He was just as powerful with a spear, a slingshot, or a discus. Ovid writes that Apollo loved the boy, loved him more than any living thing on this earth. But we know better. The gods love only themselves. In the field, a clearing ringed by trees, the boy did not try to catch the discus. He was running from it, running from the god who took pains to aim so as to slice him clean through with a single shot. You see, this is not love. A god commanding spilled blood become delicate blue flowers is not love.