Orpheus: A Greek Mythology Gay

Retelling (Book 3 of the Mythologay

Series) B.J. Irons
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Book III
 Copyright © by B. J. Irons.
Artwork: Adobe Stock – © macrovector, Masterlevsha, Darya.
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No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are fictitious.

First edition, Spectrum Books, 2022

Discover more LGBTQ+ books at www.spectrum-books.com

 Acknowledgments
I remember sitting in Latin class when I was in high school learning about the tragic love story of
Orpheus and Eurydice. Never in a million years did I think I would publish my own retelling of the
story. Thank you, Ms. Dever, for engaging me in Latin with these amazing and wonderful mythological
tales.

Thank you, Matt and Ed, for being my rocks during this writing experience. I have been such a
nervous wreck with deciding to expand my horizons as an author and to write my first series instead
of my traditional stand-alone novels. You’ve helped me so much along the way.

Have to give a big shout out to my friend Cate and my amazing Instagram family and friends. Your
support and affirmations mean the world to me!

Thank you to Spectrum Books and its affiliated team members. It was a pleasure to work with
each and every single one of you. I look forward to working with you all on future projects as well.

And thank you to my mother Gina, brother Jimmy, and the rest of my family and friends for your
love and support.

Most importantly, thank you to the LGBTQIA+ community. I will continue to support my
community and give us more fun reads in the near future!
 About the author
B.J. Irons is a college professor and works in the field of education. Many of his personal
experiences as a gay man have contributed to his books.

Being a part of the LGBTQIA+ community himself, B.J. hopes to continue to bring more colorful
and fun fictional works to his LGBTQIA+ readers.
 Other Titles by B.J. Irons
The Greek Mythologay Series
Meduso: Book 1
Arrogance: Book 2
Orpheus: Book 3
Hermes: Book 4
(Coming 2023)

The Bosses of Bane Series

The Onyx King: Book 1
(Coming 2023)
The Jasper Prince: Book 2
(Coming 2023)

Stand-Alones
The Cul-de-Sac
Rippling Waters
Sinfluenced
The Gift That Keeps on Taking
The Fire Island Ice Queen
Second Guess
The Bluff ’s Most Wanted
(Coming 2023)
 Here the sweet bard his tuneful lyre unstrung,
And ceas'd the heavenly music of his tongue;
But, with the sound entranc'd, the listening ear
Still thought him singing, and still seem'd to hear.

-Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica

Orpheus had abstained from the love of women, either because things ended badly for him, or because he had sworn to do so. Yet, many felt a desire to be joined with the musician, and many grieved at rejection. Indeed, he was the
first of the Thracian people to transfer his affection to men.

-Ovid, Metamorphoses
 ACT I
Finding Prominence
 Chapter 1

“But I don’t want to practice with a sword!” I seethed, kicking my legs into my father’s
guardsman’s chest, while beating my fists into the bronze armor covering his back. He had me over
his shoulder, carrying me down the narrow corridor of the castle, away from my aunts who were in
the drawing room.
“Your father’s orders, my prince,” Balthezius announced, not being afflicted at all by my blows.
But how could he be hurt? The man was a brute, able to lift heavy boulders and withstand many
wounds in battle. My pounds into him were just feathers against limestone. If it wasn’t for the
drumming vibrations that ricocheted off his metal breastplate, creating a pattern of echoing thumps, he
probably would have never even noticed me beating into him.
“No! I don’t want to participate. I refuse to!” I shouted. The castle servants passed right by us, not
even drawing an eye to my outburst. It was a spectacle they were so used to by now. My father, King
Oeagrus, demanded that I devote half of my day to the arts and the other half to training to become a
skilled warrior, as he once was.
My time spent painting a portrait of Dionysus draped in a fine white tunic imbibing on red wine,
holding an ornate golden goblet was abruptly put to an end by Balthezius, who dragged me away from
my acclaimed masterpiece, only to have me suffer through an intolerable session on the training
grounds today.
It was completely unfair!
My aunts, all eight of them, and my mother were muses, goddesses of all things art, music, and
poetry. As a younger child, they were my inspirations. Their creativity was unlike anything I had ever
seen before. Colorful murals and paintings created by them covered nearly every square inch stone
wall of the castle. Voices that were melodic, singing hymns of the tales of gods and goddesses and
other famous stories throughout our history were sung every hour by my mother and aunts. At the
dinner table, each muse would share a few lines from poems they managed to create earlier in the
day. Some verses were better than any I’ve seen in scrolls and books I’ve read with my erudite
teachers and scholars throughout my education.
Yet, as I came to be the age of twelve now, I envied my mother and her sisters. As women, being
gifted in the arts was common. No one judged them for their talents and being fully devoted to their
arts. However, a man could not live such a life. At least, that is how it was defined to me by the king
and my teachers.
Throughout my childhood, my father found my interest in music and art to be a sort of phase I
would overcome as I grew into my adolescence and then manhood. Much to his dismay, I became
even more engrossed with these passions as I became older.
The king was not having any of it. No son of his would grow up to be a failure of a warrior, as he
bluntly put it. After all, my father was a direct bloodline descendent of Atlas, who carried the world
and the sky on his shoulders. Titanic masculinity and strength ebbed and flowed in his veins. So
naturally, any son of his was expected to follow in his and his male ancestors’ footsteps.
Unfortunately for him, this son was swayed in a different path. A path that his mother and aunts had
significant influence over him on. If only my father could let me be my authentic self, instead of letting
society and our bloodline protocols dictate what I ought to be.
 Balthezius dropped me into the sand, tossing a steel sword at the ground in front of me. “Now go.
Train to be great warrior you are destined to be, young prince. Your kingdom depends on it, after all.”
I wish the sand would just swallow me whole. Let me sink into an abyss and be brought into a
world where anyone could be whoever they wanted to be. Where one could pursue their passions and
wildest dreams without having to suffer from conformities.
But I knew such a world did not exist for me. I was stuck in this one, and therefore, I needed to
abide by its rules until I could somehow find a way to override them and live the life I wanted to
choose for myself.
Picking up the sword my father’s guard had tossed me, I rose to my feet, grinding my teeth at him,
for forcing me into these next few hours of chaos I never wanted to endure. He revealed a sickly grin
at me. “That’s it! That’s the aggression your father’s looking for. But take it out in battle. There’s no
better way for a man to release all of his anger and built-up rage than in bloodshed.”
I turned around and walked towards the posts of bagged straw and swung my blade at them, in
various maneuvers I’d been taught in the past year. My arm muscles ached with soreness with every
additional swing I took. Sweat perspired down my face in a fury.
In my head, I imagined this target was my father and all the other men in his castle who forced me
to practice for war. I continued to strike the bags mercilessly until I could barely move my arms. My
breaths became long-winded, and I kneeled into the golden sand panting, thinking of this life I never
wanted to be born into. A life that was meant for a follower of Ares and not for someone who prayed
to Apollo like my mother, aunts, and I did.
A firm pressure was applied to my shoulder. The callous from his hand bore into me, and instantly I
knew exactly who it belonged to. Standing up, I spun around to glance up at my father, who
intimidatingly hovered over me. “I’ve been told you’ve given Balthezius a hard time again, son.” He
spoke sternly, in a way that made me know he was not to be trifled with.
I squeezed the hilt of my sword with all my might, deeply annoyed that my father learned of my
disobedience. As much as I wanted to be done with building my battle skills, I also had a
dichotomous desire to please the King of Pieria and all of Thrace. Such was the dilemma I’ve
struggled with all of my childhood. Pursuing my passion in the arts, which evidently disappointed my
father to no end, or commit to a miserable life with a blade forever in my hand.
“Only because I was almost finished with my painting. If he had just given me a few more
minutes…” I tried to explain my volatile behavior from earlier, but my father interrupted me, not
allowing to further elaborate on my reasoning.
“Orpheus! What have I always taught you, whether it be in battle or when it comes to the arts?” he
asked in a vexed tone.
I let out a deep sigh. “Always prepare for what you don’t expect,” I mumbled, agitated that I knew
where he was going with this. “Things should never go your way. And if they do, it means you didn’t
work as hard for it,” I finished with.
My father closed his eyes and nodded with approval. “Exactly. Whether it be one hour, five
minutes, or even a few seconds, your painting will be finished soon. Just because it isn’t done in the
time you expected it to be, does not give you the right to lash out and cause a tirade.”
All I could do was bow and agree with him. “Yes, my king. I understand.”
I expected a further reprimand from my father, but instead he threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve
tried so hard to make you a warrior, son. I assumed it was what you would want to be as well. Men of
our bloodline… we have certain expectations that should be met. But you, you would rather further
your practice in the passions of your mother. I’ve tried so hard to make you into the finest and
strongest Thracian warrior I know you are capable of being, but you just won’t have it, will you?”
This was a conversation that I longed for my father to have with me years ago, but was relieved to
hear him now wish to know about my desires. “I’m not meant to be a warrior, father. I despise it. It’s
difficult for me to describe how I’m feeling,” but I would do my best to get my opinion across to him.
“My heart races with the songs that I play, with the words that I write in my poetry. It leaps out from
my chest with every spot of paint I place on the panels of parchment and linen. But I do not feel its
loud vibration when I hold a sword.”
King Oeagrus slowly turned his head away from me. A darkened shadow on his cheek faced me
from the reflection of the sun on the opposite side of it. “I know how you feel, Orpheus,” he revealed.
My eyes widened with great alarm. My head darting up at him with wonder. “But how? I thought
you…” but he disrupted my thoughts aloud.
“I was once in the same situation as you, my son. At my own gatherings and feasts, I used to sing
with the bards. I even played the harp many times in my day. But my skills as a warrior were
something that could not be ignored. I had grace in battle, and the fierceness of a lion when I struck
my opponents. With the proper guidance, I could triumph in war and become the King of Thrace. The
path of war brought me great success in my lifetime. It was a wise decision for me to part ways with
the grandeur passions of music,” he confessed.
“But what if going to war is not the best decision for me? What if all of this training for battle is for
nothing? What may have been fortuitous for you may not be for me,” I explained.
And then my father smiled. It was a relief to see those bright ivory teeth of his that I rarely saw
these days.
“I’m beginning to ask that same question myself. It was a difficult decision for me to choose the
sword over my harp, but it was what my heart guided me toward. But you, Orpheus, clearly, your
heart is guiding you away from the sword, as you’ve stated.”
My father gripped the edge of his fine angled jaw, stroking his curved chin, deep in contemplation.
I could not gather where he was going with his thoughts, but I was more determined than ever to let
mine be known. “It is.” I dropped my sword into the sand, the collision causing grains to explode in
the air. “My heart is pointing me in a different direction, father. My blood does not rush when I hold a
sword or when I am running and punching. But it does when I hold a brush and an instrument. When I
create music, poems, colorful pieces, that is when I feel most alive!” I exclaimed, feeling my heart
flutter in that very moment, just speaking about my cravings.
The king placed his broad hand over my head, petting my dark brown locks into place like a dog.
“Perhaps I have been mistaken, my son. I have longed for you to claim this throne as the deserving
and powerful warrior I once was. Our people would respect you all the more for it. But what I did
not consider was that I followed my intuition with where I wanted to go with my life. And I feel I am
now doing you a disservice by not allowing you the have the same choice. The very same freedom.”
A sheet of water felt like it was glossing over my eyes. Once I blinked, I felt it trickle down the
corner of my lids. I lunged forward and hugged my father with all my might, squeezing his lower back
with my palms, the side of my head pressed into his wide chest. “Thank you, father! I would love
nothing more than to continue to paint, write poems, and play gorgeous melodies.”
“Very well, Orpheus. I will no longer force you to have to practice your skills in battle. You are
old enough now to choose whatever it is you want to leisure in,” my father granted me with. He
returned the warm embrace by wrapping his enormous arms around my upper back and thin shoulders.
“I promise I will make you and our kingdom proud, my king. I will be the best musician known
throughout all of Thrace… throughout all of Hellas, for that matter. Gods and goddesses will know
my name for my artistic talents. I swear it!” I proclaimed.
King Oeagrus could not help but chuckle at my determination. “I have no doubt you will do
splendid things, my son. After all, you are the prodigy of me and the most gifted of all muses,” he
stated. “Your mother will be most pleased with your conviction for the arts. But it was that talent and
that conviction that made me fall in love with her. So, I can see the value and draw to it.”
“I will take after her, father. I want to learn everything her and my aunts have to offer me,” I
willfully announced, wanting nothing more than for this to actually happen.
“Then it is settled. I will no longer pressure you in having to prepare your sparring skills. Once you
are finished with your morning lessons with your teachers, you may spend the remainder of your time
however you wish, even if it’s all day with your mother and aunts.”
I separated from my father and bowed to him like the worthy king that he was. “Thank you, father. I
could not ask for anything more.”
And so I skipped off and back inside the castle before my father could change his mind. On my way
in, I passed Balthezius, who heard the entire exchange between the King and me. I immaturely stuck
my tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes with a grin. “Spoiled rotten to the very end,” he uttered.
“But that’s what makes a great king,” I retorted to him. “Getting your way.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it does. But do you want to be a king some day?” Balthezius asked me
with skepticism.
I had to think about this for a moment before I shook my head. “No. You’re right. I don’t want to be
a king.”
“Then what is it you want to be?” he inquired.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I have so much time to find that out for myself.”

I bathed in my tub before supper, washing the small grains of sand from every crevice of my body.
Each speck that disintegrated into the water felt like a burden being lifted from my shoulders. My
father’s unannounced meeting with me on the training grounds shocked me, to say the least. Cupping
my hands in the sultry water, I lifted and splashed it in my face, as if trying to wake myself up from
this dream.

Did my father really just give me the freedom to do as I please?

Would I be fully able to devote all my time to the arts now?
Why would he go against his counsel and grant me this wish?
Did my mother and aunts have an influence over him?
Did this also mean I wouldn’t have to accept the throne and be king?

So many questions raced through my mind like a blazing whirlwind, but I would leave them
unanswered for now. Best not to approach the king and agitate him to the point where he changes his
mind and retracts his decision to give me my new privileges.
Closing my eyes, I submerged myself in the bath, completely dunking my body in the water one last
time, before I rose and got out of it. Retrieving a fine cloth, I dried my warm skin before placing on a
white tunic, preparing for dinner. A surprise would await us in the dining hall tonight. A performance
by the muses. It would be a rehearsal we would witness before they would sing and dance in front of
the Mount Olympian gods and goddesses. It would be their final practice, their last rehearsal, before
they took on a more prominent audience.
 Proceeding out of my bedchamber, I strode down the dark halls. The brightly lit torches hanging on
the onyx sconces on the wall guided my path. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced out the castle
windows, also noticing the other beacon serving as a light source. The moon was a pearl tonight,
completely full. A blessing from Artemis. It was a sign for new beginnings and I could not help but
grin once I became fully aware of it, for today was a new beginning for me as well. The start of my
journey as a fully devoted musician and artist. With the blessings of both of my parents, nothing could
now stop me from achieving greatness in the arts. Even the sky was not the limit, because I wanted to
go above and beyond with my skills. Now that I had everyone’s support, there was nothing that could
hold me back.
Once two of the night guards on duty heard my trailing footsteps approaching, they opened each
dining hall door for me to make my entrance. As I entered the room, my father was seated at the head
of the long cherry oak table. The fireplace behind him casting a dark glow on his figure from my
vantage point. Our wine goblets were already full, but the dinner had yet to be served. I sat in my
usual chair towards the middle of the table. As I took my seat, a servant came from behind and pushed
my chair in.
My eyes darted about the room, noticing that it was just my father and me present. “Where is
everyone else?”
The moment I asked this question, the flames on the candelabras all throughout the room shifted
from a tepid orange to a mesmerizing fuchsia.
A husky voice from a seductress echoed in the hall. “Gods and goddesses, may I introduce you to
the nine muses, daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus.”
Nine women draped in all different colored cloths and garments came bustling into the room,
dancing in circles around our elongated table laughing and giggling wildly, before standing in a
straight line next to one another, facing my father and me at the table, each intricately dancing and
moving in sync as they began their song.

Are you bemused by the muses and is it real?

Or is it a spell cast on you that you feel?
It’s a sensational feeling that you cannot deny.
So let us share our beauty and tell you why.
I’m Melpomene, the muse of tragedy.
With a mask that’s sad and a mask that’s happy.
Attend my plays for oh so long.
And we’ll end with a celebration in dance and song.

The musical genius, Euterpe here.

With my crown of flowers draped over my ears.
My melodic voice will set your heart on fire.
Then, I’ll soothe it further with my aulos and lyre.

The wondrous Urania, the eldest of the nine.

With the knowledge of the heavens and every star in line.
Follow my gaze into this celestial globe.
My knowledge of the universe will make your head explode.
 The muse of history, Clio is my name.
I can tell you how the world began to what it became.
Some people refer to me as the majestic Proclaimer.
That’s really a fact and not a disclaimer.

I go by Erato, and poetry is my scene.

As my name indicates much of it is not clean.
I speak on lyrics, charm, and love,
Captivating all creatures, including white turtle doves.
Polyhymnia here, no need for an ovation.
I prefer the calm and above all things, meditation.
With a sound like no other I create alluring hymns.
Once you listen to my voice, you’ll go weak in the limbs.

Next is me, Thalia, the muse of comedy and joy.

Making you laugh is my ultimate ploy.
On my head you’ll see my ivy crown.
With a smile on my face, never a frown.

With grace and flow, I’m Terpsichore.

The muse of dance, my movements you’ll adore.
I’ve danced for Gods, kings, and queens,
Even warriors, peasants, and everything in between.

And last but not least, is Calliope, the chief muse.

I’m the superior of my sisters, granted by Zeus.
Presiding over eloquence and all forms of art,
I’d share my talents aloud with you, but I don’t even know where to start.

Each of the muses then came forward side by side, continuing to sway their hips with the most
seductive of movements. It was difficult for me to now keep my eye on just one of them, as they all
were beautiful, their vibrant colors and garbs flowing with ease.

As we close out this song, a few final words we’ll impart.

Leaving you with great wisdom before we depart.
Follow your passions through all forms of art.
For that is the key to unlocking the passion in your heart.

My aunts and mother held each other’s hands and bowed to us. The lights in the room were no
longer dim. The flames of the candles returned to normal. I could not help but stand up in my chair to
clap and cheer for them, despite the action not showing the proper manners I had been taught at the
dinner table.
Luckily, my father ignored my inelegant behavior, since he too was distracted with the muses,
applauding them on as well. “Bravo, my beautiful wife, and all of you! That was absolutely
phenomenal! You all have outdone yourselves,” he praised.
“You really think so?” my mother Calliope asked him. “You saw no missteps or errors? Do you
think we are fully prepared for the celebration on Mount Olympus?”
King Oeagrus enthusiastically nodded. “Yes! Your performance will be what all the gods and
goddesses gossip about after the event. They will surely talk about it for years to come.”
My eyes remained widened, admiring my mother and her sisters. Everything they were and
everything they did. I wanted nothing more than to be like them. And I was determined to practice
every day until I could go even beyond them and be the greatest artist that ever lived.
 Chapter 2

“It’s all in the timing of your fingers and their placement, Orpheus. Here, let me show you.”
Euterpe pulled out her own aulos and methodically pressed her delicate fingers onto each hole as she
gracefully blew into the fine ivory instrument. The most gorgeous, rich sounds were elicited from it.
My aunt retracted her lips from her aulos once she was done. “Do you see what went wrong with
yours compared to mine? Make sure you are using both sets of hands equally. All of your fingers
should be limber as you play. You apply far too much pressure into the holes, which is why your tune
comes off slightly deeper than mine. More than it should. Now try it again,” Euterpe instructed.
I raised my aulos close to my mouth. Closing my eyes, I was then lost into the music, ignoring all of
my surroundings in the meadow we were in. The insects chirping in the stalks around us did nothing
to distract me. I was even oblivious to the gentle breeze that grazed my skin and made the small hairs
on my neck stand erect.
My heart was now taking over, ruling my body, controlling every intricate movement of my hands
and brush of my lips as I played my new song aloud for Euterpe. This temporary trance always
overcame me when I was succumbing to the music in my soul. The melodies coming forth from my
aulos drowned out all of the sounds of nature around us. Somehow, my playing evoked something so
natural and authentic than even nature itself.
Once I had finished my tune, I dropped my instrument away from my mouth. My eyes opened once
again as I no longer transcended Earth and was brought back down to reality. The chirping of the
crickets and the wild calls from the meadow plovers took control of our listening again.
I had spent the last six years growing my skills in music, art and poetry. Now that I was eighteen, I
had given myself more direction with my pursued interests, and it was music that called to me. I still
loved art and creating beautiful poems, but I would be lying to myself if I said that music didn’t bring
out a stronger flame within me than my other passions.
It was why I spent most of my leisure time with my aunt Euterpe these days. She was the muse that
presided over music. Her talents with the aulos and other musical instruments were far greater than
that of her sisters. Thus, she became my mentor, guiding me and my musical talents I possessed.
I simply eyed Euterpe, trying to read her thoughts on my recent performance based on her facial
expression. But she was giving me nothing. She held a stern look, which left me more nervous that my
playing did not satisfy her. But I was completely misguided with that assumption.
“My Gods, Orpheus! That was positively divine!” she lauded.
My stress in not knowing her opinion melted away. A warm smile crept up on my face from her
complimentary feedback. “Really? You think so?”
Euterpe nodded. “You have surpassed all of my expectations, dear nephew. Even I had a difficult
time distinguishing how you managed to play some of the chords in that hymn,” she revealed.
“You are too kind, Aunt Euterpe. But I still have a long way to go to become as masterful as you
are. Even I am aware of that,” I humbly stated.
“Yes, but you are well on your way, my boy. And soon enough, your musical abilities will eclipse
my own,” she replied.
I gasped, shocked by this belief of hers that was a revelation to me. “I cannot thank you enough.
Soon, the world will know of me. My goal is to be the world’s most renowned musician,” I shared.
 “I have no doubt you will attain that goal in the very near future, Orpheus. Music is in your blood.
You are the son of the Thracian King and the Superior Muse. You were already destined for greatness
the day you were born.”
Before I could even reply to my aunt, another voice called from behind me that I didn’t even know
was present with us. “Do you think he is ready for the Castalian Spring?”
I twirled around, stunned to learn that the source of the question was my mother, Calliope. I
wondered how long she had been here for and if she listened in on our full conversation.
Euterpe nodded to Calliope. “I would say so. And he should perform the same melody he just did
there. I’ve never heard a song so soothing and technically exquisite played on the aulos before. The
oracles of Delphi, and even Apollo himself must hear Orpheus.”
I could not believe the words that were coming out of their mouths. I never expected in my wildest
dreams to be able to perform at the Castalian Spring at such a young age. The spring was sacred
ground in Delphi. Its cleansing waters were blessed by Apollo and located just next to the very same
mountainous cave where Apollo slayed the odious Python before he came to be the patron of Delphi,
inheriting all of it for his deity. He was the oracular God, along with other prestigious titles of being
the God of the sun, healing, music, and practically all forms of art, for that matter.
This was why it was an honor to play the aulos at the Castalian Spring for the oracles, priestesses,
and perhaps even Apollo if he were omnisciently listening at the time a performance was taking place
there. But not just any mortal could show their talents there. Only those with the most highly regarded
artistic skills and abilities could hold an audience in the spring. To be invited to show off your talents
at the Castalian Spring was a rare honor and a huge blessing.
“So, what do you say, Orpheus? Are you fully prepared to participate?” my mother inquired.
I truly did not have an option. Failure to take advantage of such an opportunity would be unheard of
and frowned upon. I knew the only appropriate answer for such a question and I gave it confidently.
“Yes. I am ready.”
“Very well. Then we will leave the following morning at sunrise and make our journey to Delphi,”
Calliope announced to us.
Deep down, I knew this was the start of my future. My lifework as a musician. It would be the
catapult I needed to propel me to monumental fame in this mortal world.

That evening, after my daily practice with Euterpe in the meadow just beyond the castle walls, my
mother requested a private audience, not really giving me much context as to the subject of the
unplanned meeting. But I knew it was likely about the big day approaching soon. My very first
performance at the Castalian Spring.
I entered a private room in the castle that my mother used for her own personal entertainment
purposes. It was where she directed me to meet her once we finished supper. I furtively crept into the
chamber, softly shutting the door behind me. At the far end of the room, my mother was vigorously
writing on parchment at her oak desk, heavily concentrating on whatever it was she was working on.
My steps towards her were reticent. Only the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace behind
her desk was heard.
But my shadow that cast over the room instantly drew attention. Her gaze shifted up from her work
to me. “Ah, Orpheus. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I’m sure you’re hard at
work, busy practicing your song.”
 “Yes. But I could use the relaxing break. Don’t want to overdo it and physically drain myself,” I
replied to her, alleviating any worry that she may have had, likely wondering if she was
inconveniencing me by wanting to have a private discussion amid the short time-frame I had to perfect
my music before our journey tomorrow.
“Good. I am relieved you are being wise with the intensity with which you practice. Easing your
mind before such an event is imperative if you want to give the performance of a lifetime. Actually,
perhaps it would be wise for me to summon Polyhymnia this evening. She could help you meditate…”
I cut my mother off at this suggestion. “That won’t be necessary, mother. I would not want to
impose on my aunt. Plus, it is the evening. It would be disrespectful to call upon her at such a late
hour. I can meditate on my own,” I assured her.
“As you wish. I just want to do everything in my power to make sure that you are fully ready, body
and mind, for Delphi,” Calliope implored.
“Thank you. I appreciate all of your support, and I can testify without a doubt that I am very ready
for our trip to Castalian in the morning,” I further explained. Now that we had gotten that out of the
way, I wondered if that was the intent on meeting with me privately and if we were done here. “If that
was your only concern, and now that we have addressed it, I think I’ll return to practicing,” I
announced.
“Well, that was not the only reason I summoned you, my son. Not to add any more pressure to what
is already on your plate, but I was informed just a little while ago that Apollo will be present in the
audience for your performance, in the flesh,” she revealed.
I cupped my hand over my mouth, holding a shocked expression on my face. I could instantly sense
the sweat forming at the base of my forehead. How was this possible? Or rather, why was this
possible? Why would an Olympian God choose to use their valuable time to attend an event where an
amateur was performing?
“Are you certain? Apollo will be watching me play the aulos!?” It was unbelievable that I was
even asking this question to my mother. Here I was, just an eighteen-year-old, turning into a young
man and I already had the chance to welcome the grace of a God’s presence.
My pulse was racing like a competitive charioteer in the chariot races. My heart skipped several
beats as I tried not to be overwhelmed. It was difficult for me to take all of this news in.
“Yes. He will be there. As you know, he takes the opinions of the muses into consideration with
any information we have to offer him. Euterpe and I have spoken highly of your capabilities and so he
requested to see your progress for himself,” my mother admitted.
“You’ve had conversations with Apollo about me!? He has known who I am all this time?”
“Of course, Orpheus. You are a prodigy. The son of the King of Thrace and the Superior Muse.
Your name is known by many already. Why do you speak so naively?” She raised her brow at me.
Little did my mother comprehend that I’ve lived a fairly sheltered life thus far. Yes, I have ventured
all over Pimpleia and other towns in the Thracian kingdom, but never had I visited other lands beyond
my own, including Greece. There was so much of the world I’ve only experienced through books and
through the lessons of my teachers and scholars. But hearing testimonials of other cultured people and
where I fit in into this world, I was not privy to.
Whether or not I was famous, I wouldn’t know. I was still a fledgling. An inexperienced man who
had yet to explore the world and see it through different sets of eyes from all around. So, what did my
mother expect? Surely, she had to acknowledge that my obliviousness to my status resulted from my
upbringing.
“I’m just surprised, is all. Never have I been the center of attention in all my life. Especially in
front of a god, for that matter. All eyes will be on me. It’s what I always dreamed of. But now that it’s
happening, it’s so surreal,” I confessed my inner feelings aloud to her.
“You would do well to get used to this experience, my son. Achievement is just an arm’s reach
away from you. Seize it now. For there will be many more performances by you in this lifetime and
with much greater audiences.”
I listened to her advice intently. Every word seeping into my pores. “I will do just as you say,
mother. I will represent our family well. I won’t let you or father down.”
“Very good, Orpheus. Now, do you have any questions for me before our departure tomorrow?”
I paced about the room, thinking to myself, wondering if there was anything I needed my mother to
elaborate on that I needed to know about Castalian Spring. But nothing was coming to mind, except
for constant thoughts on Apollo. Apollo was one of the two gods our family worshipped and prayed
to, along with Dionysus. But I always found myself drawn to Apollo and all that he stood for. His
passions, values, and beliefs were congruent with my own.
Not to mention from the various paintings, sculptures, and other works of art I’ve come across that
depicted him, I recognized that he was a fairly handsome and strong looking god. This too thrilled me
to no end. I longed to see what he was like, up close. To be able to gaze into his gorgeous eyes, and
admire his smooth silky skin, and golden curled hairs that radiated like the sun.
A smile emerged on my face, just reveling in the thought. I sat down on my mother’s crimson sofa
near her desk, propping my head up with my elbow, daydreaming into the flaking embers of the
fireplace. “Tell me, what is Apollo like, in person? Is he truly everything everyone describes him
as?”
I was so caught up in my fascination with thinking about Apollo that I failed to notice my mother’s
demeanor change as I asked this. A wily grin appeared on her face and she stood from her desk and
made her way over to sit beside me on the red satin sofa. Her graceful hand reaching to caress my
knee, rubbing it in a soothing manner.
“He is everything and more,” she replied. “A phenomenal god with many gifts and talents. He is
generous to all and the most stunning and captivating creature. Both men and women flock to him.
Their physical and emotional attraction to him sometimes unhinged as a result,” she added.
“Both men and women adore him in such a way?” I asked with skepticism, needing further
clarification on this. In my life, I’ve only ever heard about and seen male mortals in the company of
female mortals. Never had I heard that men could possess attractions and physical desires for other
men. But now that I had time to harbor my own running thoughts and emotions, I’ve realized I too have
never possessed a longingness for a woman yet. My only cravings and eruptions of pleasure in my
body emerged strictly when I had thoughts about strong and alluring gods like Apollo and even some
of my father’s fierce and robust guardsmen and warriors.
Did that mean I was charmed by other men, too? It was unheard of, but based on what my mother
had just presented me with, it seemed those thoughts were more common among other men than I had
realized.
“Yes. He is loved by men and women and Apollo in turn loves men and women, as well,” my
mother further explained.
“Really? I honestly had no idea.” Then the thought rushed into me like Artemis’ arrow piercing
through the thick hide of her prey. Apollo and I together. Feeling his warm body against mine. The
two of us kissing. Our lips closing in on each other. His broad hands stroking and caressing every
surface of my skin. A wild urge overcame me, and I found my entire body being stimulated by the very
idea of it.
 “Such relationships are common among gods, dear Orpheus. Love is an art, just like music, poetry,
and painting. Just like any art, there always should be that freedom of expression, to allow your
deepest passions buried within you to come to life in your works. Love comes in all shapes and
forms. No one should ever restrict themselves to loving only certain types of individuals. Love is
meant to be explored, to allow you to understand your true desires, without limitations.”
“So, does that mean Apollo could possibly be attracted to me? He could love me?”
My mother nodded. “Based on Apollo’s enthusiasm for wanting to meet you, I have a feeling he is
already attracted to you, my dear son. Hence, his willingness to want to have the opportunity to see
you perform in person soon.”
Now, there was more on the line for me at Delphi tomorrow than just trying to impress a god with
my musical skills. My mission had become greater, more than I had ever imagined. The stakes were
high and so much was on my plate. I wanted to attract Apollo, to seduce him. To make him mine. I not
only possessed the artistic talents in order to do this, but I now was even more confident in my
physical attributes, which garnered the god’s attention, as well, according to my mother.
I would soon realize that having both the looks and the talent would prove to be a lethal threat in
this world. Because when you had a combination of these two traits going for you, then you could
easily accomplish anything you put your heart and mind to.
 Chapter 3

The trek to Delphi was a long one. It was a full day’s trip my mother and I spent in the horse-
drawn carriage. Euterpe and Thalia also joined us on the ride. The other muses used another set of
two carriages to make the journey with us. They were riding just behind us along the narrow dirt
road.
There were several stops we had to make along the way, for personal hygienic reasons and to
sustain our appetites. Luckily, we had a few servants who accompanied us on the trip. They prepped
the fires and cooked up our meals. Once we ate, we were already on the road again. Time was of the
essence, and we could not afford to stay put for too long. The less time wasted being still, the better,
if we wanted to arrive in Delphi at a reasonable hour the following morning to give us ample time to
prepare for my scheduled musical number.
My two aunts and mother chatted and gossiped for much of the ride, giggling and coming up with
clever riddles and poems for one another. But I chose not to participate in much of their laughter and
banter, for I was so focused and concentrated on my mission at hand that I could not be distracted by
any and all things around me.
I held my white aulos in my grasp, altering my fingers over the holes along the shaft of the
instrument, practicing the intricate movements required for the song I was to play. “Does it have a
name?” I lifted my head to see Euterpe staring at me. “The song you created. Have you given it a
title?”
I never really considered giving it a name until now. I guess it would be wise to come up with
something, especially if I was going to be introduced by someone at Castalian Spring. If the song
were to become famous and well-known, it would be necessary to have a name given to it. I stroked
the end of my chin, going through many workable ideas in my mind with a worthy title. Finally, one hit
me that sounded perfectly fitting.
“It’s called Finding Orpheus,” I revealed.
“Oh. How interesting,” my mother chimed in with. “And what is the meaning of it?”
“Something is lost. You can hear it in the melodies in the beginning of the song. But as the chords
progress and become more intense, what was once lost is finally found. I like to believe it relates to
me. I’m finally starting to find myself and my passion and who I want to be in this very world,” I
explained to them.
“Well, I think it’s the perfect title, nephew,” Euterpe commended.
“Yes. Very fitting,” my mother added.
“I agree. Although it is rather ironic,” Thalia remarked, shifting the tone of the entire conversation.
“That this song is about finding oneself, yet its main receiver is someone who has yet to come to
terms with who they are.”
Her statement was an enigma. I had no clue how to decipher what she was referring to. However,
my mother and my aunt Euterpe must have known exactly what Thalia meant by that cryptic comment,
for they both glanced at each other subtly before turning to Thalia with scowls on their faces.
“Thalia! That is a rather bold statement to make!” Euterpe exclaimed.
“Such things should not be said about our godly leader, even if you may feel it is warranted. It is
very unbecoming of you,” my mother scolded her sister with.
 “Hmph!” Thalia crossed her arms over her bosom with resentment. “After what he did to me, that
comment is barely a flesh wound in what he truly deserves,” she grunted.
“And what exactly did Apollo do to you?” I asked with more eagerness than I probably should
have. But I was the outsider in this discussion. Clearly, I was missing something here. My mother and
aunts knew about Thalia and Apollo’s relationship, but I was left in the dark on the whole thing. What
happened between them two? I needed to know.
“Apollo used me, dear nephew. He made love to me many times and gave me whispering promises,
but could not keep any of them. For he disposed of me. Our love. Soon thereafter, he started taking on
multiple men as his next wave of lovers,” Thalia stated with such hostility.
She seemed truly hurt by what Apollo did to her. Her genuineness and anguish were almost
tangible. I sensed her pain and was floored by all of it at the same time.
“Enough, Thalia! You will do well to mind your tongue in speaking of Apollo in such a way. This
stops now!” my mother demanded with outrage.
The remaining hours in the carriage ride then remained awkward, with lingering tension in the air.
Everyone kept silent and to themselves.
However, I could not shake what Thalia had revealed to me off of my mind. I could not believe my
aunt had an affair with the god of my dreams. The only man who I ever had sexual desires and
cravings for. The thought of the two of them together left a bitter taste in the back of my throat. I could
not stand the thought of Apollo having an affair with anyone else. It only derailed my adoration of
him. Yet at the same time, I wondered how cautious I should be when it came to Apollo. Although he
was a righteous and powerful god, was he also capable of chicanery? Would he also hurt me just as
he did Thalia? I surely hoped not.
For the first time in a long time, my mind and my heart were completely disconnected when it came
to my inner feelings and decisions. On one hand, my heart fluttered at the very thought of Apollo. He
was remarkable and attractive and gifted in the arts, just as I was. We had so very much in common
with each other. But on the other hand, I could not ignore that he was in fact a god, while I was a mere
mortal. If I were to grow to love Apollo, I would only be putting myself through turmoil. His
longevity was much greater than mine. Our love would not be permanent. It would be fleeting, and the
masculine and talented god would surely move on and take on other lovers beyond me, just as he did
with Thalia.
Despite these warnings that were now stacking up in my head, my heart was triumphing over them,
and I came up with excuses for why Apollo would treat Thalia in such a way. I began to realize that
this defense mechanism I was coming up with was the result of my mind and heart already having
been made up. I desperately wanted Apollo, and I was determined to fully devote myself to him, no
matter at what cost.

Once we arrived at Delphi, I could not get out of that carriage fast enough. I wanted to hear no
more of my mother’s or her sisters’ chatter over meaningless subjects. They were nothing more than a
vexation. A major distraction from me practicing and preparing for my major introduction as a skilled
musician.
If I had it my way, I would have traveled in my own carriage during the entire length here. But only
if I found the courage to make such a request aloud. It was easier to think that versus actually
suggesting it to everyone. I avoided confrontation as much as possible. So, I tended to keep quiet and
deal with situations as they came. But I was beginning to learn that such a personality never succeeds
in this world. It’s only those who are vocal and make their opinions heard, who have their requests
responded to and are the ones who actually get their way. I would keep this lesson in the back of my
mind for the near future and moving forward.
I closed my eyes as I stepped onto the sacred grounds. It was a breath of fresh air to now inhale the
atmosphere of Delphi. The climate, the waters, and the surrounding lands were blessed by the gods
and goddesses of Mount Olympus. I could instantly sense the change in the air. It was invigorating and
hair-raising unlike any place I had been to before.
As I opened my eyes, I had no idea what to think. The surrounding scene was directly out of a tale
my teachers had spoken of. The grounds were the most luscious of thick green grass. The hills rolled
with such a rounded slope, leading up to stone structures that were meant for sacred rituals and
hearings. I was more nervous about performing in such a wonderful place because the landscape was
so overwhelming.
My mother’s firm palm pressed into my shoulder, which calmed me. “Fear not, Orpheus. Let this
majestic view only aid in your music. Enrapture yourself in the nature around you. Let it calm your
spirit and only bring out the best in your music,” she stated.
I firmly nodded at her response. My most flawless performances were outside in the meadows or
by the lakes. The most beautiful scenes around me stimulated my musical talents. And based on the
wonders of Delphi, this performance was bound to be a worthy one of a lifetime. Euterpe, Thalia, and
my mother traipsed ahead of me, and so I followed them beyond the vast verdant sloping hills and
canyons until we reached a more mountainous peak where I could hear the constant trickling of
flowing waters. I glanced up to see two ravishing stone lion-head statues spouting water from their
mouths into the crystal blue spring below.
This, I gathered, was the Castalian Spring, as was described to me. My mother tilted her head to
look at me before nodding to confirm my thoughts. “We have arrived, Orpheus. Here is the Castalian
Spring.”
As we stepped closer towards the spring, I became more relaxed and aware of what would occur
around me as I performed. There was a central slab of thick limestone in the middle of the pond of the
spring, which is likely where I would be playing my aulos. Around the pond were cylindrical
limestone seats no bigger than a tree’s stump that overlooked the middle island for the main
performer. My stage was set, and I was now overcome with joy, able to visualize the astounding
views around where I would be playing for everyone.
But the issue I had with this depiction was that not one place stood out for me as being somewhere
a leader or a god would be seated at. I had no idea where Apollo would be watching me from, which
left me slightly irritable. “Mother, where will Apollo be seated? I need to know where to lock my
eyes when…”
As I tried to finish my line of questioning, my mother had already interrupted me. “I do not know,
my son. He appears at random places. Sometimes he will be seated with the rest of us. Other times,
he will not make his appearance known, but he will be sure to have witnessed the entire performance.
Therefore, you should never worry yourself with where he will be. Just play to the best of your
ability. Pretend you are back at the meadow playing for the flora and fauna. Play just as you would for
them. That is when you are at your very best. So just close your eyes and imagine you are back home
at Pimpleia,” Calliope advised.
“Yes. That is precisely what I will do, mother,” I replied. Although secretly, I knew I would
constantly be wondering where exactly Apollo was as I breathed life into my aulos. But there was
nothing more I could dwell on with it. I took my place inside a small tent behind the waterfalls and
waited as the other artists, poets, and musicians took their place to perform for the day. I stood behind
them, jittering all the more as my time to come approached with each passing minute.

“Our next musician is the son of King Oeagrus of Thrace and the Great Muse, Calliope. Ladies,
Gentleman, Gods, and Goddesses, may I present to you, Orpheus, with his debut song, titled Finding
Orpheus!” a sapphirine water nymph announced before she plunged herself back into the waters
below.
I slowly dipped my feet into the warm pond. The lukewarm water sent a spark of heat up my spine.
I trudged through the water and stepped onto the main platform, looking over my full audience. I could
see my mother and eight aunts seated among the group, along with other stellar poets, artists, and
musicians. But I saw no signs of Apollo. He would have easily stood out in this crowd with his
tanned masculine body, and perfectly angled jawline that could likely chop the thickest of vegetables
we grew on the farm behind our castle.
So, I became immediately overwhelmed with not knowing where his presence was. But I could not
postpone my performance. I had a group of other honorable attendees before me, and it would be such
an inappropriate action for a debut musician to be late on his act.
I retrieved my ivory aulos from the side-pocket of my white tunic. Bringing the instrument to my
lips, I closed my eyes and began playing my song. Although there were no words I could speak for the
instrumental song, I had my own lyrics I surmised in my head as I played the tune.

A young boy there was with no sound dream.

He stared every night at the moon’s gleam.
Thoughts of success, thoughts of fame,
Thoughts of wealth, nothing that would shame.

A Prince of Thrace held in the highest regard

Meant to be a warrior, not a bard.
But he longed for music, poetry and art,
Never a sword, for that was never in his heart.

But this boy held on to faith and to hope,

With the support from his aunts, and his mother, Calliope.
He knew he was destined for greatness, such greatness to achieve.
And he would easily get there, as long as he believed.

I repeated the verses two more times after the first, adding more depth and volume to each chord,
until the song ended with such an intricate blast of style and rave. My aulos practically screeched at
the very end with how long I held the final note for. Once my performance had ended, I emerged
myself from my temporary trance and glanced over my muses and the rest of my audience, bowing to
them.
Graciously, they all stood and cheered, calling my name for such a profound song I had played. It
was more than I had anticipated. But I overlooked the clapping and the chants, hoping to see Apollo
somewhere out there. Much to my dismay, he was nowhere to be found. Doubt sank into my head,
wondering if something came up and he had to miss this glorious performance of mine that I had put
my blood, sweat, and tears into.
As the standing ovation died down and everyone returned to taking their seats, that was my cue
to exit the platform and return to the tent where I waited earlier, before stepping out to showcase my
music.
My mother came up from behind me, squeezing my shoulders delicately. “A marvelous
performance, my son. You should have heard the gossip and whispers in the crowd. Everyone was
asking for your name and who you were. They were beyond impressed. Even Apollo too.”
“Apollo!? Apollo was there? Where was he? I looked everywhere and could not seem to find
him.”
“He remained hidden from the audience, not wanting to steal the spotlight away from you. But he
spoke with me just before I came over here to search for you. He requests a private audience with you
when you have a moment,” my mother revealed.
I was beside myself. Panic creeped up my spine and overtook my entire body. “He really wants to
speak to me alone?” I asked, needing further confirmation of this, since I could not believe this was
actually happening.
“Yes, Orpheus. And you should meet with him sooner rather than later. It is not wise to keep a god
waiting. Patience is not their strong suit.”
“Well, where is he? Where am I to go to find him?” I inquired.
My mother reached for my hand, holding it firmly. “Come. I will take you to him. But remember all
that we discussed about Apollo. And above all else, just remember to be yourself. He will enjoy you
all the more. You already put on a phenomenal performance for him. No need to change your attitude
and personality in order to put on another performance. He will adore you just the way you are.”
 Chapter 4

My mother pointed ahead to one of the tallest hills on the Parnassus Mountains at Delphi. I
squinted my eyes to barely see a white marble edifice that stood out upon it. “That’s Apollo’s Temple.
He will meet you there,” she informed me. “Oh. And please refrain from discussing our conversation
in the carriage last night. Thalia was completely out of line, but she was also not her normal self
throughout the trip. If Apollo were to learn of her insults towards him, he may take it out on our entire
family. Do you understand?”
I firmly nodded. “Yes, mother. I promise I will never bring it up to Apollo or anyone else.”
She patted me on the back. “Good. Now run along. Don’t keep him waiting.”
I turned to give her a hug. “Wish me luck,” I replied before running ahead of her, ascending the
slope.
“Oh, and Orpheus!” she called out to me. “Do not forget who you are. You are the son of a king and
a muse. Make sure you hold that confidence.”
Her words rang in my ears as I continued pressing on towards Apollo’s Temple. This was it. The
moment was finally arriving and I could not contain myself. My heart was performing backflips in my
chest. My feet felt light as if I was gliding on air instead of this luscious grass beneath me.
Entering the temple, I was surprised to see that all the vastly different sized candles and torches
were ablaze, yet there was no trace of anyone’s presence besides me. I knew these grounds were
sacred, and only a handful of people were allowed to walk them regularly. In this sanctuary of
Apollo’s, I expected to see at least some priestess or oracle, or even a temple servant, but there was
no one.
The atmosphere was still, almost too quiet for my liking. It left me on edge, the hairs on my skin
going erect of not knowing what to expect. As I explored the temple, I admired all of the intricate
carvings and sculptures of famous Greek gods, goddesses, and heroes. I scrutinized these small
figures carefully, studying the finely carved details on them and the tales they told. However, it was
the gargantuan white statue at the very center of the naos, or inner chamber, that captivated my
wandering eyes.
I briskly stepped over to it, so that I was directly in front of the colossal figure. It stood nearly five
times my height. Its subject was ravishing. Every sculpted muscle was flexed to perfection. His face
was so polished and handsomely angled that it put the Naiads to shame.
“Kalokagathos,” I muttered under my breath. A word I rarely spoke. It was used to describe only
the most beautiful and virtuous of men, like the statue of the man before me.
A loud clap broke my reverie. It vibrated off of every column and wall in the chamber. The
applause was long but sporadic. I could tell it belonged to the hands of a strong, built man. Only a
noise that loud and deep could come from a powerful man, or rather a god, for that matter.
I abruptly turned around, my face gleaming, as I grinned from ear to ear, recognizing the god I had
long waited to see.
“Stunning as ever,” he commented in a deep, seductive tone. It was enough to make my insides
melt.
But what exactly was stunning? Was he referring to his own temple’s architecture and the statue
that depicted his flawless physique? Or perhaps he was speaking about my earlier performance on the
aulos. Another thought crossed my mind. What if he were talking about me, in general? Would he be
that straightforward with me? My mother did mention to me that she believed Apollo found me to be
attractive. This could be his declaration, which I absolutely longed for.
“Thank you,” I simply replied. I wouldn’t dare ask him the subject of his praise. After all, I was a
mortal. He was a god. There was a certain level of respect I needed to maintain in my meeting with
him. Asking unfound questions could prove to be an impertinence. I was already lucky to have this
opportunity to have a one-on-one audience with him. I had no desire to blow it… although a wave of
urges left me a passion to blow on another thing of his, though.
I studied Apollo closely, comparing him to all the other views I’ve seen of him through sculptures,
and in books and paintings. The images I’ve seen of him did not do his live appearance justice. He
was a miraculous creature. I have never witnessed hair so divinely golden and so effortlessly curled
into gorgeous locks.
The God of the sun and music approached me. Every step he made getting closer sent a flood of
cataclysmic invigoration into me. I felt tense, yet fully alive and aware of my surroundings all at once.
It was a refreshing feeling. It made my body feel hollow on the inside. Empty almost. Did he create
this light-aired sensation for everyone he came into contact with?
“Your musical skills are astounding, Orpheus. I’ve never heard another mortal play the aulos in
such a beautiful way. Your performance was truly one of a kind,” Apollo lauded.
I immediately got down on my knees, bowing to him. “I am unworthy of such kind words from you,
God. But you have my deepest gratitude for giving me the opportunity to share my abilities with you.”
I could hear Apollo’s footsteps coming closer to me, but I would not risk looking up. I kept my gaze
to the floor.
“Rise, young musician,” he stated.
And so I did as he instructed me. As I tilted my head up, I realized I was in direct eye contact with
his cock, that was slightly draped, concealed by a thin cloth wrapped over his shoulder that extended
diagonally across his torso. The closeness of his manhood to my face sent a rush of salivation in my
mouth. It was watering; I was craving to see… no, not to see, but to pleasure his cock. What I would
give for it at that very moment.
“Son of the Superior Muse, Calliope and of King Oeagrus. Surely, artistic talents run in your
veins,” he stated, expressing his thoughts aloud. “But who knew they could produce such a charming
young man?”
I instantly blushed, my cheeks turning as red as Aphrodite’s rose. I stood bashfully, rubbing my left
shoulder with my opposite hand as I faced down towards the marble floor. As much as I was pleased
with Apollo for having these pleasing thoughts about me, I had never heard another person ever pay
me such compliments about my looks.
It was a new experience. One I had no clue how to navigate. Yes, I was used to receiving plenty of
accolades and praise for my music, but never had I had someone express interest in my physical
features. It was another con added to the list of the downfalls of living such a sheltered life.
“You are extremely handsome as well, my God,” I heard myself reciprocate to him. The words
came out of my mouth before I even had the time to process them. Was it wise for me to say such a
thing to him? What if it was not well-received? I should have just kept quiet still.
My muscles became tense, and I barely moved an inch other than the heavy rising and falling of my
chest with my deep breathing.
Apollo reached to rest his hand on my shoulder. The touch of his skin on mine sent a shock of
warmth through me. I wondered if it was my own personal senses or if Apollo literally pressed the
heat of the blistering sun into me. He had such capabilities, after all, as the God of the sun itself. At
least that’s what I believed.
“But your music is just as equally captivating as you are. You have a strong potential to make such
an impact on this world with your skills, Orpheus. All you need is the proper guidance and you will
do wonders.” Apollo smirked. His smile beamed like the radiance of the sun. I almost had to turn my
head away, to avoid just how bright and magnificent that smile of his was. The effect it had on me
was baffling.
“I already do receive the guidance of the muses,” I informed him. “My mother and her sisters have
had such a positive impact on my passion for music and artistic attributes.”
“Yes. They should be commended for teaching you the foundational skills needed to set you up for
success, but what they lack is the knowledge a god has on all things art and music,” he replied.
“I wish I had that knowledge. I would want nothing more than to be the best musician in the world.
I’ve dreamed it my whole life,” I intensely declared to him.
“I can see it in your eyes, too.” He placed his hand under my chin, lifting it, so that I was gazing
directly into his entrancing Aegean blue eyes. “And I believe you have what it takes to get there. But
as I mentioned, with the right guidance, you will get there, which is why I had Calliope summon you
here, to me today. I would like to offer my services to you, Orpheus.”
Apollo released his fingers from my chin, but I let my head stay in place. My gaze transfixed on his.
I could not believe this was occurring. The God I prayed to on a daily basis was now offering to be
my teacher, my master. I wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and passionately kiss him
will all the strength I had, to reward him for his generosity. But I refrained from doing so. Such
desperate behavior would be unflattering, to say the least.
“Really? You would be willing to be my mentor?” I asked, wanting an official confirmation from
him, so that I knew for certain that my ears were not deceiving me.
“Of course. You deserve the lessons from a god,” he shared, before reaching to grab both of my
hands with his, squeezing them tightly. “Close your eyes, Orpheus.”
I was nervous at his request. But I had no choice in the matter. He was a god, after all, and
evidently my mentor now. I shut my eyelids, giving him all the trust I had.
Apollo let my hands go. I could hear him taking several steps back. As much as I wanted to peek to
see what he was doing, I maintained control and kept my word to him.
“Now, lift up your arms and open your hands wide, palms face up,” he commanded.
I did as he wished and suddenly felt an object in my hands. “You can open your eyes now,
Orpheus.”
Once I did, I was stunned by what I was holding. It was a lyre, but unlike any other I had held
before. The arms and the crossbar were made of the purest gold. The strings were of the finest animal
hair. It must have come from some rare beast or creature because I had never seen such miraculous
coarse hair in all my life.
“It’s a lyre…” I uttered, stating the obvious.
“It’s not just any lyre. This one is beyond unique. It’s magical and fully blessed by me. When you
play it, you will even attract the attention of the animals, plants, and all of nature that listens to your
sultry melodies,” Apollo explained.
I was rendered speechless at first, taking the time to spin the instrument around to admire it from all
angles. “I… I don’t know what to say. I am not worthy of such a gift, Apollo. This is far too lavish for
someone like me.”
He shook his head. “I think it’s actually the perfect instrument for you. You truly deserve it.”
 “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I softly whispered. I was so caught up in the gloriousness of the
golden lyre, finely plucking its strings and eliciting the loveliest of sounds, that I paid no attention to
Apollo, who now moved around me and came up from behind me. His arms then wrapped around my
body, startling me at first.
But all worry I had was alleviated as he reached his hands and placed them over top of mine. “Play
like this,” he intimately breathed into my ear, stroking my fingers across the delicate strings with his
own hands.
Although he may have been trying to teach me a new technique, I was paying no attention to it. All I
could do was focus on his chest, which was pressed into my back along with, what I could tell, was
his erect cock, planted firmly into the crease of my rear. I inhaled his manly scent. It smelled as if he
were just recently in a forest. The woodsy musk seeped into me. I wanted that scent of his
permanently lingering on me.
My heart had a mind of its own. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience, watching
myself from afar. I had no control over my actions. All I could see was my own head tilting back,
glancing at Apollo in my periphery. His face leaned down to greet my lips with his.
This was the moment. My first kiss, my first time touching a man in such a way, my first everything.
It was even better than I had imagined. His mouth was warm and lips so silky smooth. I could feel his
tongue now entering me to meet my own. It was slippery, yet tasted so good. Our mouths devoured
one another.
I separated from him, just so I could place the lyre on a nearby side pedestal and spin around to
face him. Our arms latched onto each other once more. The embrace was so tight, so wistful. My
mouth returned to his, except I allowed my tongue to be more of the aggressor against his this time.
I was madly wild for this God and hoped he felt the same about me. Apollo’s hands grazed under
my tunic, feeling the tenderness of my back arching into him.
He lifted my tunic from over my head, so that I was now bare naked before he dropped the cloth
that lingered around him, which fell to the ground swiftly, so effortlessly.
I had to stop and stare over his full, bare body, exposed to me. His cock was stiff, pointing high in
the air. Seeing the massive thickness of it sent a rush of blood through me, further erecting my cock.
Apollo reached to grab it. The touch of his warm palm wrapped around my girth made me shutter
with pleasure. I let out a barely heard whimper at how amazing it felt as he began stroking it, his arm
motioning up and down on it.
Only ever had I pleasured myself with my own hands. But having someone else’s skin rubbing
against it was a feeling so much greater. So much more. I closed my eyes innately, wanting to soak in
all the euphoria as I possibly could from this. I lifted my neck so my head was facing the ceiling, only
further heightening all my senses as he stroked me.
It wasn’t until I heard movements from below me that prompted my eyes to open and glance down
at the source of the sudden noise. Apollo was now brought to his knees. His face was at eye-level
with my cock, which he continued to squeeze and rub in his clenched fist.
I had no time to think about what he was doing. It was unheard of. Here my God was, bowing down
on his knees before me. Me, but a mere mortal. How could the roles reverse in such a way? How
could he possibly allow it?
But I let him. A surge of power overtook me. Apollo’s submission brought out a feral side of me
that I never knew was buried deep within me all this time. I felt confident, nearly invincible. It was I
who now felt more in control of this God, wanting him to do all that it would take to make me hit my
point of ecstasy. My point where I wanted to erupt my juices all over him. And so, I reached out my
hand, firmly gripping the back of his head, pulling him into me so that his mouth wrapped around my
cock.
His wet tongue rolled over my shaft. Those soft lips of his curled around my manhood and he
bobbed his head up and down on it. “You are miraculous,” he barely got out of his mouth, in between
catching his breath, before he continued to suck on me.
“My Gods, you feel phenomenal on me,” I stated, wanting to give him further approval to do
whatever it took to get me to hit my breaking point.
“You taste phenomenal,” Apollo added, picking up the pace with his rhythm on me. I closed my
eyes, and further let my wild, aggressive urges take over. I forcefully gripped his head, tugging on it
mercilessly so that my full length struck the back of his throat. The God’s eyes widened, likely
shocked by my assertive behavior.
It didn’t take long for me to reach that moment I’d been waiting for. The moment that had built up
within me since Apollo first laid his hands on me. The pressure was completely concentrated,
gathering on the end of my cock until it finally released out of me, escaping my body. Apollo further
used his mouth to drain me, to let every drop I had to offer trickle down his throat.
I stepped back from him in wonder. He rose to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm
to get the leftover residue off of his lips. I could not believe what we just did. My senses were now
returning to me and I nearly felt ashamed for all that we had just did, especially in his sanctuary at
Delphi.
“I’ve never done this with anyone, ever before,” I admitted to him.
A smirk crept up on his face. “Well, there will be more of that to come,” he stated. “And next time,
I want you to be the one to service me, to do just as I did to you.”
And I wished that moment was now, but I knew better than to continue what could be deemed as
anymore sacrilegious actions that desecrated the very sanctity of this temple.
“I look forward to it,” I simply said.
“And this is only the beginning, Orpheus. I still have so much more to show you. So much more to
teach you in the art of love-making.”
When I first arrived at Apollo’s temple, I did not know that he would wind up becoming my own
personal mentor. And even as I would leave his place of worship soon, not only did I get to have the
God of the sun serve as my musical mentor, but I also acquired his expertise as a mentor in the art of
love.

Back home, I stood on the edge of the shores of Pieria, my toes dipping into the water as the waves
crashed against them. I held my golden lyre against me, closing my eyes, deep in thought over all that
had transpired in Delphi and everything since then.
Apollo proved to be a magnificent teacher. My musical skills were growing at an extraordinary
rate with his assistance. We often made love after our lessons, in the meadows, on the beaches, or
wherever it was he had me visit with him.
Apollo’s cock inside me and mine in his… it was the most pleasurable experience in my entire life.
His sex was an addiction of mine. When it came down to it, I mostly looked forward to the idea of
making love to him, rather than making music with him.
What Apollo and I had was unconventional, to say the least. Yes, our sex was other-worldly, and
yes, he was a splendid teacher to me. But that was the extent of our relationship. We never discussed
personal matters or affairs with each other. He never visited my family with me, nor did he ever stay
at our castle. I still spent my dinners with my mother, father, and aunts, while also alone in my bed
every single night.
Our relationship was strictly physical and meant as a way to further evoke our creativity and our
pleasures. Yet, I could not understand why, after the many months we had been seeing each other, I
was feeling a little underwhelmed. The beginning stages of being unfulfilled were creeping up on me,
digging their sharp nails into me, begging for something more.
The only relationships I had to go off of as inspirational models were those of my family and the
ones I’ve heard about in famous tales and from the stories the scholars told me in the castle. In those
relationships, lovers stayed with each other all the time. They slept in the same bed, had
conversations over dinner, gave each other kisses goodnight, and woke up to each other the following
morning. The art of love-making was the one thing Apollo and I had in common with those types of
relationships, but that was all.
And I had to keep asking myself if what Apollo was giving me was enough. I wasn’t quite sure, but
I could not deny all that the God had to offer me. I would never ask him about our affairs and what it
meant and if it was even normal. No. Because what if Apollo viewed my skepticism as a lack of
trust… a betrayal? He would withdraw his services as my musical mentor. He may even consider
taking away the lyre that I had grown so fond of. Plus, the God of music was my key to success in this
world. I could not risk losing him. So, anything he needed to be pleased with, until I could stand on
my own two-feet as a world-renowned musician, I would do, without reluctance.
As I thought this, I glanced at the shallow depths of the sea. A unique heart-shaped object caught my
eye.
Of all the…
I stepped further into the cerulean waters of the Thermaikos Bay, attempting to get a closer view of
what exactly the heart was.
I burst into laughter, as I recognized it wasn’t just a single object. It was two of them. And they
weren’t exactly objects. They were living things. Two seahorses, hippocampus, that were mating.
Their snouts connected and tails intertwined, forming the shape of a heart that deceived me.
It was a rare sight in these shallow waters of the gulf, and my face glimmered with hope and
excitement. I could not ignore the irony of this situation. The hippocampi were one of the few sea
creatures I knew of that mated for life. They took on no other lovers. Once they found their destined
soulmate, they were bonded forever. It dawned on me that such a relationship is what I desired. It was
what I truly yearned for and needed.
I raised my lyre in the air and began to play a soothing melody for the two critters that were in
love, using my soothing voice to sing a short verse to them.
Once you meet the one you love, you will always want to stay.
They will come back to you no matter what, even if gone astray.
Hear my hymn and dance along you glorious horses of the sea.
Grab your friends and have them join in your celebrated glee.
As I repeated the verse once more, I noticed a crowd had joined the two sea lovers. Other fish
swam around them in a heart-shaped pattern as well. These glowing fish lit up the sea with their
bright and vibrant colors. Even dolphins that were further out into the sea made their way closer to
the shore to listen to my music.
I smiled, continuing to put on a grandiose performance for all of these sea creatures, celebrating the
love of the hippocampi, the ones that truly deserved all of the praise and the recognition of everyone
else around them.
The seahorses continued to stick together, not once parting ways with each other. They too bounced
along to the music I rendered from my golden lyre. This moment was everything, and I loved every
second of it.
Once Apollo taught me how to play this lyre he gifted me, I was able to charm every animal,
flower, and even rocks and trees that I came across. They all were calmed and relaxed by my slow,
sensuous tunes. As for when I played my jubilant and festive melodies, they all moved to the beat of
my music and lyrics, dancing along with each syllable I sang and every chord I struck.
I watched the seahorses with elation, dancing around them and the other fish as I continued to pluck
the fine strings of my lyre.
It became apparent that the joy I expressed for them and their love was what I wanted for myself as
well. I wanted to be with someone, just one person for the rest of my life. I knew it was a relationship
I needed to have and longed for. But I held my doubts that such a relationship could exist for me and
Apollo. It made me wonder how long I could go on like this. How long could I allow lust to dominate
my life over love?
 Chapter 5

And so our lust continued. I drew my tunic over my body, tying the drawstring to tighten it. Apollo
stood behind me, naked, his massive hands placed on my shoulders, squeezing them. He leaned
forward to kiss on my neck passionately. He would no doubt leave a red tint from how hard he
nibbled on it. I tilted my neck to the side to give him more exposure to continue to ravage it. His
slippery tongue felt so exhilarating against my sensitive skin.
We had just finished making love in the field, gathering ourselves together before returning to the
real world. Apparently, Apollo was not quite through with me yet, for he continued to rub his hands
all over my body, now reaching beneath my tunic. I should be used to Apollo’s constant sexual
aggressions. He was a god, after all. His hunger, thirst, and needs were far insatiable compared to
that of a mortal. Naturally, he could go on for long hours of rough sex, even after I was beyond
exhausted and fatigued.
But luckily for me, Apollo must have sensed my tiredness, for he removed his hands from my
waist, allowing me to gather my wits. “I really should get going,” I informed him. “The sun’s going
down. I don’t want to be late for dinner. My father will have my hide.”
Apollo planted a firm kiss on my cheek before showcasing that gleaming grin on his face. “Then
I’ll just have to bring the sun back up, won’t I?” he jokingly suggested.
I chuckled at his remark. Of course, he could control the sun. How quickly I had forgotten about it.
“I would not want you to disrupt the entire world all for my sake,” I shared.
“You know I would easily do that, but I would not want to go against your wishes,” he replied.
A warm smile crept up on my face. It was rewarding to know that I had such power over him, even
if but a small influence. What other mortal could say that about a god? Very few, I imagined.
“Thank you. And will I see you around the same time tomorrow, as always?” I asked, expecting the
answer to likely be yes, if he was planning to stick to his normal pattern and routine with when he
visited me throughout the week.
“About that…” he began. “Actually, I have other duties I need to attend to, and so do you.”
I raised my brow before spinning around to face him. “What do you mean? I don’t have any duties
that I’m aware of.”
“Well, you will be aware of it now,” Apollo coolly stated as he paced around me in a circle. “I had
one of my prophetic visions yesterday. It involved you for the first time ever.”
“Me!?” I exclaimed, shocked by this revelation. “What could the Fates possibly have in store for
me? Whatever for?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Apollo rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “But I’ve seen you singing to the
occupants of a small port tavern in Paestum. There you will meet a man with the Golden Fleece. He is
your destiny.”
“Paestum!? But that is at least a week’s journey. It will take forever to get there,” I spoke with
pessimism.
“Use your father’s horses. Take a carriage with you,” Apollo nonchalantly stated as a simple
solution.
“But…” I began, but the God of music must have sensed my reluctance, for he immediately
disrupted my thoughts once more.
 “It won’t be a concern. I will directly speak with Calliope. No one will hold you back from this
journey, Orpheus. The Fates have spoken. It is not for us to contradict them,” he explained.
If Apollo was certain he could reason with my father and mother to let me go on this voyage, then I
really shouldn’t have a single worry in the world. But, of course, I was scared. Never had I been
alone on my own for such a great length of time. Was I prepared and trained to endure such a long
trek? Furthermore, the guidance Apollo had just provided me contained very limited details.
“And when I get to this tavern on the port side of Paestum, I am to sing and perform there?” I asked
with skepticism.
He nodded. “Yes. Just sing as you normally would. Do not give those patrons any special attention.
I’m sure your music is something they will only hear once in their lifetime.”
I had a grotesque, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the very thought of performing in a
tavern. “How can I sing in such a setting? I’m not some… common bard.” I may have sounded more
imperious than I should have, but it was a simple truth. My skills and talents were not meant to be
heard at local inns and taverns in small towns. My voice and instrumental playing were worthy of the
gods. Not some random townsfolk, as if I were singing to beg for their tips and coins.
“It will only be once. Plus, you should not view this opportunity as a step beneath you. After all,
it’s imperative that you gain the perspectives of all aspects of music and related jobs. It will only
bring you more humility. More appreciation of the arts from all walks of life.” Apollo spoke so
confidently, as if it was so easy, but I still had my doubts. My reservations.
“And how am I to find the man with the Golden Fleece? Will he be at the tavern? Should I be the
one to approach him, or will he come and find me?” I asked.
So many raised questions, yet so few answers Apollo had for me. “I cannot say for certain. But I
prophesied it, Orpheus. Therefore, it will happen naturally and no matter what. Just follow your
intuition. That is all I can advise you.”
I was becoming more agitated with Apollo by the minute. He had no empathy for me or my
feelings, which hurt me to the core. How could he expect me to just pack my belongings and leave my
home, my family, my life behind me for an unforeseeable amount of time? It was impossible for me to
commit to this journey so swiftly, even if it was a mark of destiny. I was giving up so much in order to
do this, and for what?
Apollo had not provided me with the end result of why I should go on what seemed like a perilous
quest. Yet, he thought I should just completely submit myself to him and this prophecy of his? It may
have been of no consequence for him, but it certainly was for me. And somehow Apollo failed to see
that.
But alas, I had no option in the matter. Such was my life living under the roof of a renowned king
and a superior muse, as well as serving as the mentee of a god. I lived my life based on other
people’s beliefs, decisions, and influences. Never had I had the opportunity to do things on my own,
to make my own choices, using strictly the knowledge and instincts I had without anyone else having a
say.
Perhaps that was the one benefit of this expedition to Paestum. I would not have my parents or
Apollo hovering over my back. For once in my life, I would have to rely on myself, and it was about
time I did so for a change.

The journey was tedious, to say the least, and proved to be far formidable than I could ever
imagine. What I had originally thought to be a week-long journey turned into two weeks. I was forced
to make several stops along the way to tend to the horses on my own, to start a fire with the basic
knowledge I had in creating one. I bathed in unknown waters I was weary of, but managed to do it all
without anyone’s assistance.
As I arrived in Paestum, a sense of accomplishment flooded me. I had done it. As much of a
nuisance as this voyage was, I managed to overcome my apprehension and lack of trust in my
capabilities, and that spoke volumes to me. It gave me a newfound confidence to know that I did not
need the help of others to survive in this world. I could make it along just fine on my own if I needed
to. I did not need King Oeagrus, Calliope, the other muses, or Apollo in order to live. Without them,
my life may not be so straightforward and it would require a great deal of effort on my part, but
nevertheless I would be able to manage.
Entering the small town close to nightfall, I hopped out of the carriage, greeted by a young
stableboy of the village. Handing some coins off to him, I glanced back and forth between my horses
and the boy, who wore raggedy garbs with traces of dirt on his cheeks. “Please, take good care of
them,” I requested.
He nodded. “Of course, sir. Thank you. Your offer is most generous.”
And he jumped into the carriage and led the horses away.
I traipsed through the dirt roads of Paestum, hugging along the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Even
through the darkness, I could tell these waters were not as crystal blue as the ones I was used to, like
the cerulean Aegean. They were indigo and opaque. Their depths were mysterious, leading me to
wonder how many ships were lost beneath this reticent sea.
As I continued to amble about the town, I realized just how plain it was, mostly comprised of stone
homes and only two tall temples on the east side of the city, opposite to the beach. But there was one
spot that stood out to me more than any other. The villagers were coming and going out of the lit-up
structure, with torches hung by onyx sconces, surrounding the building. Bright lights emerged from the
windows that exposed the inside. I could see vivacious men clamoring and laughing, holding their
foamy, dripping mugs in the air before bringing it to their lips to chug. Women with intricately curled,
yet knotty-looking hair, dripping with faded cheap jewelry and rusted gemstones, sat on some of these
men’s laps. Others were dancing about, having a merry time. This must be the tavern Apollo had
envisioned. So, this was the spot and the people I would be performing for.
I had to admit; I was not impressed with the place. But this is what I imagined a typical inn and
tavern would look like, just as I learned about from the descriptions of the tales I have heard over the
years. I entered the establishment, now realizing just how loud and frivolous the occupants were. I
wondered how my vocals and the calming sounds from my lyre could be heard over this drunk
caterwauling.
Moving to the center of the tavern, I went unnoticed by everyone who was there. But once I pulled
out my gold, glimmering lyre I had concealed beneath my tunic, that was when all eyes were brought
over to me. I began plucking at its strings, starting with singing a verse to a song I had been preparing
during the trek here to Paestum.

Were you expecting the melodic story from a boring bard?

With a voice so scratchy it would leave your ears charred.
Well, I have news for you, I’m not that weak-skilled.
For my musical talents will leave your hearts fulfilled.

My name is Orpheus, son of a king and muse.

 And no, I promise you, this is not some type of ruse.
I have been sent to this town, directly by the God of the sun.
The first stop of many. My journey has just begun.

My talents range far and wide. I can play for hours.

Making dance the animals, the fish, the trees, and even the flowers.
My music will soothe just about anything that lies in my path.
Even the most volatile of creatures will no longer invoke wrath.

But alas, there is a reason I have come to this inn.

I am in search of a person, who possesses a unique, glimmering skin.
It is someone who has found a rare treasure, known as the Golden Fleece.
Please make your presence known to me, for I come in peace.

Our meeting was foretold, by Apollo and the Fates.

So, there is no point in ignoring their visions and keeping them wait.
For us finally coming together is a mark of destiny.
You are said to be my lock and I am to serve as your key.

I opened my eyes, observing the entire room, which was filled with complete silence. I was unsure
how the people here would respond to such a performance. But before I could even read their
expressions, I felt a splash of cold beer strike my face. A stupor man threw his mug at me. The rest of
the tavern laughed at his action, much to my chagrin.
“This is a tavern, you silly bard!” he yelled to me. “Save that music for the temples. We want none
of that garbage here!” I could smell the lingering alcohol from his breath drift through the air and waft
into my nostrils. It left me with a queasy feeling.
I was completely humiliated, still receiving the pointed fingers and jokes directed at me from the
other drunken patrons. Clenching my fists in anger, I marched out of the tavern and back out to the
streets.
Once I was in the clear and away from that odious place, I patted my tunic down and squeezed the
beer from it. The alcohol on me reeked. I needed to get rid of the disgusting smell as quickly as
possible. I could already sense the vomit building up in my throat from the putrid smell of it. The only
place that offered a means of bath was the sea. Thus, I sprinted there, removing my tunic from my
body so that I was stripped nude. I softly placed my lyre in a dry spot on the ground, not wanting it to
get damaged by the waves. My tunic, I carried with me as I trudged through the rough river rocks that
lined the shore and dove into the dark waters with it.
After a few dunks of my head and rinsing my body off, while washing my clothing too, I returned to
the shore, still completely naked. But much to my surprise, two men stood facing me. I prayed that
they weren’t bandits or drunken fools from the tavern who followed me out here, wanting to pick a
fight.
As I approached them, I quickly wrapped my tunic around me, covering my exposure. Its cold
dampness against my skin sent a chill up my spine, causing me to shiver.
One of the men was statuesque. His hair was brown and wavy. He wore a bronze armor-chained
suit with leather wristlets on each of his arms. The flexing of his muscles made me assume he was
some sort of warrior.
 The other man, who stood to his right, wore a sage tunic which cut off very short at his upper-
thighs. He was extremely tan with the whitest of hair that even put the Greek Goddess, Chione’s
purest of winter snow, to shame. Ironically, I would soon learn of this man’s close relationship to this
particular wind goddess. What was most peculiar about his looks was the protrusion from his back.
His tunic rose high behind him, leaving the man with what looked like a bizarrely shaped hunchback.
But aside from that, I was mesmerized by his silver hues. It was as if sparkling daggers encircled the
center parts of his eyes. They pierced right through anyone who made contact with them, including
me.
It was the taller, brown-haired man who spoke up first. “You said your name was Orpheus?” he
asked, extending his hand out to me, which seemed like a friendly gesture, much to my relief.
I accepted his hand with my own by shaking it. “Yes. And you are…?”
“My name is Jason, and this is Calais.” He pointed at his partner beside him. “I am the leader of a
group of strong warriors known as the Argonauts.”
“The Argonauts? I’ve never heard of them,” I honestly admitted.
“Few have, but everyone will soon know our names,” he revealed. “For we have undergone the
most unbelievable, treacherous journey you could never imagine.”
Jason then recited a few of the many tales of his and the Argonaut’s adventure, from their trek to
Colchis to retrieve the Golden Fleece and the many trials and tribulations they had to endure to get it,
including bewitching a princess sorceress named Medea, plowing an entire field surrounded by
volatile oxen, burying serpentine teeth into the ground only to invoke skeleton warriors they had
tricked into fighting one another, deceiving a sleepless dragon to finally grab the guarded Golden
Fleece, to even chasing foul harpies, half beautiful women and half putrid vultures, across the
continent still coming across them to this day, trying to hunt them down.
“That story… I’ve never heard anything like it,” I confessed. “And here you miraculously stand
today, still alive to tell the tale.”
“For now,” Calais interrupted. “You see, our journey is not yet finished. We must set sail and still
navigate past Sirenum scopuli, the island of the sirens. From there, our journey will continue beyond
Crete, where many other dangers lurk. That is where you come into play, Orpheus. We cannot survive
without your assistance.”
“What exactly do you need me for? How can I possibly help you warriors out?” I inquired.
Jason stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “The sirens. Surely, you’ve heard of
them?”
I tried to recall the lessons from the scholars back at the castle and what they taught me. I remember
them briefly discussing these very sirens. They were captivating women with the most beautiful faces
and hair, but had the legs and wings of white sparrows. Their enchanting lullabies were dangerous.
They lured sailors with their beguiling voices, forcing them to wreck their ships against the sharp,
jagged rocks that surrounded their island.
“Yes. They put men into a trance with their songs, leading them to their demise,” I answered.
“Precisely,” Jason replied. “But if these sirens were to receive a taste of their own medicine with
someone who has a more powerful voice and charming music, then we can escape their clutches.”
“So, you think I can soothe the sirens to prevent harm from you and your crew?” I asked, seeking
clarification.
Both Jason and Calais nodded. “You claimed you could make animals, fish, trees, and flowers
dance in your earlier song, did you not?” Calais folded his arms over his chest as he stated this with a
stern expression on his face. “That even the most volatile of creatures will no longer invoke wrath,”
he further repeated the lyrics to my verse, verbatim.
“Yes, I do have the ability to do that. But we are talking about sirens, here. I’ve never actually
tested my skills on fearsome creatures such as them,” I explained.
“But we heard your music in the tavern,” Calais said. “Even we were enraptured by your
performance. Forget what those drunks said and did to you. Their minds were already heavily
influenced to even be able to listen to you properly.”
Calais’s compliment warmed my heart. It brought me great joy to learn that at least someone in that
awful tavern was impressed by me. “Thank you for your kind words, but I still am unsure about
bypassing the sirens. What if I am unable to captivate them? It will only lead you, your crew, and me
to an earlier trip to the Underworld.”
“We have faith in you, Orpheus. Plus, we were destined to meet,” Jason rebutted. “You had earlier
said that Apollo and the Fates had a vision that the two of us needed each other. If this is not a sign,
then I do not know what is.”
Jason’s logic that he refuted with proved to ring true. Apollo had led me here to Paestum to join
him on his quest. That had to count for something. The God of the sun would not send me here, only to
die in the near future. He must have known I was the key to helping Jason and the Argonauts. You are
said to be my lock and I am to serve as your key.
My words and intuition had to be validated. I had no other place to go. No further direction. So, it
was decided. “Very well. I see your point. Then, please, allow me to join you both and the other
Argonauts on your journey. I will gladly help in any way I can.”
This drew a smile out of Jason and Calais. “We would be happy to have you,” Jason
enthusiastically replied.
But I still had so many unanswered questions. There was much I needed to know about Jason, his
crew, and this adventure they were on. For starters, “when are we to depart?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Calais quickly responded. “We have a private room on our ship you can
sleep in tonight and for the remainder of your time spent with us.”
That was a relief to my ears. “That will work for me. So, shall we head to your ship now? I’m
excited to meet the other men aboard.”
“It’s still rather early,” Jason remarked, although by my time, it was pretty late into the night. “Why
don’t we return to the tavern and have a few more drinks?”
I shook my head. “After that scene earlier? I’d rather not.”
Jason snickered, while Calais held his hand over his mouth, trying to avoid laughing at my expense.
“I completely forgot about that. Well then, let’s return to the ship and have a few drinks there.”
We walked the port of Paestum until we arrived at Jason’s gargantuan ship docked at the pier. It
was bigger than I had imagined. I was shocked the sea could float such a heavy-looking vessel. I
stood with my head tilted to get the full picture of the enormous craft made of the finest and robust oak
I had ever seen, as I rubbed my hands along its edges.
“Jason calls it the Argo,” Calais informed me, referring to the ship.
“It’s beautiful,” I remarked, while continuing to admire it.
Calais watched me closely. “You will be safe with us, Orpheus. There is nothing you have to fear. I
will protect you at all costs. You have my word.”
My eyes drifted up into those stunning silver eyes of his. Their magnificence caused my face to
flush. “Thank you. I appreciate your support. And I hope I can lead you all to salvation.”
Calais stepped toward me, a benevolent grin on his face. “I have no doubt you will. Hopefully, I
will continue to get to know and see more of you, even after our voyage together.”
 He spoke with such sincerity and interest. Dare I say that I wished for the same thing too? He was
so handsome and yet mysterious at the same time. But there was something also odd about the name
Calais. I felt as if I have heard the name before but could not place my finger on it. I slept on the ship
that night, mulling it over in my head as I fell fast asleep, unable to come up with where and when his
name was mentioned.
Now, by the morning, I would be out at sea with Jason and the Argonauts. Who knew where this
journey would take me? I did know, however, that I could never go back. I would press on, forward
into the unknown. I was unsure of what I would find along the way, but the one thing I was truly
determined to find, more than anything else during these travels, was myself.
 Chapter 6

I emerged onto the upper deck of the ship the next morning, inhaling the scent of the sea-salted air.
I spun in a circle. Nothing but deep blue sea all around us. The crewmen, who I presumed to be the
Argonauts, were hard at work. Many men were handling the sails, while some were drawing and
knotting rope. Others were cleaning the deck’s surface.
I stood there, just admiring their efforts. But I felt helpless. I was of no service to them, nor could I
clean or cook for them. It was the one time in my life where I felt completely and utterly worthless. I
was unsure of where I could potentially offer my help. All I had to rely on were my artistic talents
and nothing more. Regret immediately overcame me. I wondered if I should have paid closer attention
to our servants in the castle and all that they did. Maybe I should have listened to my father to begin
with and at least devoted some hours of the day to training as a warrior. At least it would count for
something.
I stepped down the stairs towards the back of the Argo, where the lower deck was. It seemed that
no one was present at the very stern of the boat. It was the perfect spot for me to be alone for a bit,
besides my claustrophobic private room, which really wasn’t a room at all. More like a tight area that
had a bed and a floor to be able to stand in one spot in.
But what should I have expected? Although this ship was huge by my standards, it wasn’t quite big
enough for the amount of crew Jason had. I did my best to avoid these spoiled thoughts and keep my
complaints to myself. After all, I should be grateful that I have a roof over my head, right? Although
this rickety roof and cramped room was a far cry from the vastness of the lavish castle I’ve lived in
my entire life.
I turned around to see that no one was around me before I took a seat and retrieved my golden lyre
from my tunic. Closing my eyes, I leaned forward, bringing my ears close to the strings as I strummed
them. It was just soft enough for me to hear and to not draw the attention of anyone else on board. I
played a song I had written last night while I laid in bed, telling of my childhood, my family, and my
home-sickness. I missed all of it dearly, but knew this was the right path for me. The one that I was on
with Jason, Calais, and the Argonauts. I could sense it. I had to believe in myself and Apollo for that
matter, too. Me not continuing on this journey and failing would only bring disgrace to him and to
myself. That was not an option.
Even so, despite my resolve, I could not bottle these feelings of loneliness up. Holding pent-up
feelings of anger, sadness, and remorse was unhealthy. At least that’s what I believed. Music was my
outlet, my way to relinquish all of these emotions I had stirring within me. And that’s precisely what I
did right now. I sang my sentiments aloud, my truth, but in a safe space where I was my only audience.
Just me and the ever-expanding sea that lied ahead.
My father’s voice and my mother’s love, I can barely recognize.
Loneliness is a dreadful feeling. I have no one who can sympathize.
Every hour and every day I learn something new from the world outside.
A world with such experiences, so many paths that I take in stride.

It leads me to wonder about my sheltered life that I’ve been in for so long.
How could I express my feelings in such confinement? I’d have no meaningful song.
 I need to appreciate this chance I have in exploring so much around me.
But for some reason I still find myself lonely, just staring out at the sea.
It was an inner dilemma I continued to struggle with and I could not find a solution to fix it. As
much as I was trying to make my dreams come true by becoming a world-famous musician and
visiting so many new places and witnessing so many beautiful scenes around me, I also felt lonely,
unable to shake off the feeling that I no longer had a strong support system to back me up as I
progressed on this adventure. It was a struggle, and I was still learning to navigate this harbored
turmoil, but I only hoped I could figure out how to do so sooner rather than later. I was still trying to
find myself.
My anguish was disturbed by footsteps coming from behind me. Immediately tucking my lyre into
my tunic, I sharply adjusted my seating so I spun around, facing whoever it was that was approaching.
It was Calais. His gorgeous white strands of hair undulated with the sea breeze. It swayed
synchronously with the flowing waters beneath us. The sun made his silvery eyes gleam all the more.
I was unable to appreciate their full beauty last night in the dark, but I was even more aware of their
details now.
“That song. It was rather… interesting,” he stated.
Embarrassment instantly washed over me. I could not believe Calais had overheard my lyrics. No
one was meant to hear them but me. My face began to turn scarlet red, this now being the second time
Calais had managed to accomplish this, despite the fact that I just met him several hours ago.
“It was not fully developed yet,” I admitted. “I had no intention of anyone else listening to it.”
I must have sounded slightly offended by my statement, for he waved his hands in front of me, as if
he meant no harm. “I apologize. I did not mean to overhear it. But at any rate, I thought it was
wonderful.”
My heart raced from the praise he had just given me. But at the same time, I still felt ashamed of
him seeing a vulnerable side to me, when we had only just met last night. “I appreciate your
feedback,” I replied. It was my attempt to make it a closed statement, hoping he would not progress to
ask me any further questions about the song.
But this was a wish that could not be granted to me, for Calais did go on to be more curious about
my lyrics. “The words behind that song… were they how you truly felt?”
I let out a deep sigh. My eyes gazed out into the marine blue waters, hoping they would have a
calming effect on me, which they did. “Yes. All of my songs come from raw emotions,” I confessed to
him. “It’s difficult, with me being here. Yes, I want to help you, Jason, and your comrades to
accomplish what you all set out to do, but at the same time, I cannot help but have second thoughts on
my decision to join this excursion. I too have much that I have left behind. My family, my home, my
entire life, for that matter. It’s hard to just give all of that up for the very first time and try to maintain
composure.”
Calais stepped closer to me before taking a seat on a disheveled cargo box by my side. “So, this is
your first time away from your family?”
I nodded. “Yes. For this long of a time, at least.”
“I see. Perhaps I can paint a different perspective for you, to make you see that it’s not as bad as
you think it is.” As Calais sat, my eyes shifted towards his posture. His tanned leg muscles roared
with how contracted they were. He still wore the same tight green tunic I saw him in last night that
accentuated his masculine features. However, I could not help but continue to notice that bulge on his
back. It still left me curious as to what exactly it was.
“Most mortals do not have the same luxuries as you do, Orpheus,” he continued. “Think about some
of the adults and even children you may have seen in Paestum. Most of them have not been given the
same opportunities as you. Some of them are orphans, never having been able to know their real
families. Others were likely forced to live in this town because of war and famine. Many of them are
stuck in the jobs and roles they have, never given the chance to actually pursue their true passions.”
I know what Calais was insinuating at that moment. It was his polite way of saying that I was being
a spoiled brat in all of this. He may be right. That may have been the case. And I am extremely
grateful for all that I had received, but no matter what advice or lesson he may have been trying to
teach me here, none of it could change my feelings. This was my life, after all, and my own
experiences. I could appreciate and value the perspective of others. And I appreciated what he was
trying to instill in me, but it was not the kind of support I was looking for at that moment.
“I understand what you’re trying to say. Really, I do. I completely get it. Yes, I am not some
pompous prince who is upset over no longer having servants wait on him hand and foot, or anything
like that. I recognize that I have been blessed with the many fortunes and opportunities bestowed upon
me by the gods, but nevertheless, I still miss my family, Calais. They are all I have in this world. I
don’t have any friends or anyone else that understands me, besides Apollo, of course. But other than
that, I’m all alone.”
“I’m sorry if my remarks came off as accusatory, Orpheus. That was not my intent at all, and I
apologize for that. I should not make assumptions like that without fully getting to know you. I am
starting to learn that there is much more to you than meets the eyes,” he commented, with a smirk on
his face.
It prompted me to return a smile back at him, alleviating any tension we may have had from this
conversation. “Thank you, Calais. You have been nothing but kind to me since the moment we met.
Kindness is truly what I need right now.”
“Well then, you will never be disappointed with me then, because kindness is all I have to give,”
he replied.
I then felt it between us. I wasn’t quite sure if it was a spark or perhaps something else, but I was
drawn to this man, and not based on his gorgeous face, hair, and body alone. There was more
substance to him that attracted me. Our discussions that we had with each other seemed to be easy-
going, even with how personal they may have seemed. I sensed that he authentically cared about me
and my well-being. Something that Apollo lacked. I could not say the same for the God of the sun.
There were things that Calais was giving me right now that I only dreamed Apollo could give me, but
he never did. It only furthered my cynicism about the relationship between my mentor and me. It really
was superficial and a bond strictly based on lust.
I did not love Apollo. I was now more certain of that than ever before. But what was love? I felt
like I was on the verge of knowing what it meant to me, yet I could not be so sure.
But this conversation with Calais was getting too deep. I had only met the man yesterday, after all. I
needed to show some restraint as I did not want him to view me in this vulnerable light right now. So,
I decided to change the subject of our conversation altogether.
“Tell me, what is the mission that is at stake here for you all? Jason elaborated on how he retrieved
the Golden Fleece you all sought after, but he never explained the why behind it. There are still so
many missing pieces for me,” I explained.
“Ah. Yes. He did not go into much detail with you last night, as there was so much to already tell
and so short a time remaining in the night. But allow me to fill you in,” Calais stated as if he were a
scholar of mine, ready to give me an educated lesson on a historical tale. “Thessaly is what Jason is
after. He is heir to the entire kingdom. Bringing the Golden Fleece back home will allow Jason to
secure the throne as king and take it away from his vicious uncle.”
“His vicious uncle?” I raised my brow, not familiar with the idea of family members despising one
another. At least it was something I was not used to.
“Yes. You see, King Aeson, who was Jason’s father, used to rule over Iolcus and all of Thessaly.
He had a jealous brother named Pelias who grew resentful over all that King Aeson had
accomplished and the power he held. Eventually, Pelias assembled a team of rebellions to overthrow
the king, and they were successful in doing so. Later, Aeson and his wife, Alcimede, gave birth to a
boy. But the two were fearful that the now, King Pelias, would kill their son if he learned of the boy’s
presence. Any threat to his throne, no matter how minor, King Pelias would surely dispose of.”
“And this baby boy was…” I paused, allowing Calais to answer and continue with the story.
“Yes. The boy was Jason. Alcimede knew the only choice she had was to conceal Jason’s
whereabouts from King Pelias. So, she sent him off to the wise centaur, Chiron, with whom he was
raised and educated by. As the years passed, Jason grew into a strong, robust man and he returned to
the city of Iolcus in Thessaly, learning that he was the rightful heir to the kingdom. But King Pelias
would offer him the throne on one condition, and that condition was to travel to Colchis to fetch the
Golden Fleece.”
“What is so special about this Golden Fleece?” I asked.
“It is a rare item with a historical context. It belonged to the majestic creature Chrysomallos, a
golden ram with wings that could fly. The enchanted animal was created by the Goddess, Hecate,
herself. The magical winged ram was sent to the surface to save a prince and princess who faced
great danger. He gathered them and took the sibling twins to Colchis, where they were welcomed
with open arms. After Chrysomallos saved the children, it was sacrificed to Zeus as a gift, but its
golden fleece was blessed by the King of the Gods and returned to the young prince that the ram
saved, Phrixus. Offered as a token of gratitude, Phrixus gave the Golden Fleece to Aeetes, the King of
Colchis, for having accepted him and his sister into their kingdom. The King kept the Golden Fleece
in one of his gardens devoted to the God of War, Ares, to forever be watched and guarded by his
sleepless pet dragon.”
“I see. So, Jason and you all have already claimed this Golden Fleece from Colchis and we are
now returning to Iolcus with it, for Jason to succeed his uncle for the Thessalian throne?” I inquired,
verifying that I was up to speed with where we were at in the midst of this journey.
“Correct. Our main obstacles are the island of the sirens and passing Crete to get to Iolcus.
Otherwise, the remainder of our trip should hopefully remain calm,” Calais informed me.
“And the Golden Fleece? Where is it? It must be somewhere aboard this ship.”
Calais nodded. “Yes. It’s in a locked cabin, hanging on the wall. Would you like for me to show it
to you?”
“Of course!” I exclaimed. I had to see this one-of-a-kind treasure that so many men risked their
lives for. It had to be a spectacle. A sight to behold.
“All right. Then follow me.” Calais rose from his sedentary position and headed towards the
middle of the boat. I trailed behind him, now able to fully see the arch that protruded from his back. It
awkwardly moved with every step he took. What was he hiding underneath that sage tunic of his? It
could not be a malformed back or anything like that. I meant to ask him about it soon, but needed to
find a way to bring it up without sounding rude in the process.
We descended into the lower quarters of the boat, passing many of the sleeping cabins on board
and towards a door at the very end of the hall. Calais held the door open for me, and I entered the
room ahead of him. My mouth dropped at the sight of the draped fabric that was hung and sprawled
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 SCOTCH MINCED COLLOPS.

“Chop the beef small, season it with salt and pepper, put it, in its
raw state, into small jars, and pour on the top some clarified butter.
When wanted for use put the clarified butter into a frying-pan, and
slice some onions into the pan and fry them. Add a little water to
them, and put in the minced meat. Stew it well, and in a few minutes
it will be fit to serve.”
 BEEF TONGUES.

These may be cured by any of the receipts which we have already

given for pickling beef, or for those which will be found further on for
hams and bacon. Some persons prefer them cured with salt and
saltpetre only, and dried naturally in a cool and airy room. For such
of our readers as like them highly and richly flavoured we give our
own method of having them prepared, which is this:—“Rub over the
tongue a handful of fine salt, and let it drain until the following day;
then, should it weigh from seven to eight pounds, mix thoroughly an
ounce of saltpetre, two ounces of the coarsest sugar, and half an
ounce of black pepper; when the tongue has been well rubbed with
these, add three ounces of bruised juniper-berries; and when it has
laid two days, eight ounces of bay salt, dried and pounded; at the
end of three days more, pour on it half a pound of treacle, and let it
remain in the pickle a fortnight after this; then hang it to drain, fold it
in brown paper, and send it to be smoked over a wood fire for two or
three weeks. Should the peculiar flavour of the juniper-berries prevail
too much, or be disapproved, they may be in part, or altogether,
omitted; and six ounces of sugar may be rubbed into the tongue in
the first instance when it is liked better than treacle.”
Tongue, 7 to 8 lbs.; saltpetre, 1 oz.; black pepper, 1/2 oz.; sugar, 2
oz.; juniper-berries, 3 oz.: 2 days. Bay salt, 8 oz.: 3 days. Treacle,
1/2 lb.: 14 days.
Obs.—Before the tongue is salted, the root end, which has an
unsightly appearance, should be trimmed away: it is indeed usual to
take it off entirely, but some families prefer part of it left on for the
sake of the fat.
 BEEF TONGUES.

(A Suffolk Receipt.)
For each very large tongue, mix with half a pound of salt two
ounces of saltpetre and three quarters of a pound of the coarsest
sugar; rub the tongues daily, and turn them in the pickle for five
weeks, when they will be fit to be dressed, or to be smoked.
1 large tongue; salt, 1/2 lb.; sugar, 3/4 lb.; saltpetre, 2 oz.: 5
weeks.
 TO DRESS BEEF TONGUES.

When taken fresh from the pickle they require no soaking, unless
they should have remained in it much beyond the usual time, or have
been cured with a more than common proportion of salt; but when
they have been smoked and highly dried, they should be laid for two
or three hours into cold, and as much longer into tepid water, before
they are dressed: if extremely dry, ten or twelve hours must be
allowed to soften them, and they should always be brought very
slowly to boil. Two or three carrots and a large bunch of savoury
herbs, added after the scum is cleared off, will improve them. They
should be simmered until they are extremely tender, when the skin
will peel from them easily. A highly dried tongue of moderate size will
usually require from three and a half to four hours’ boiling; an
unsmoked one about an hour less; and for one which has not been
salted at all a shorter time will suffice.
 BORDYKE RECEIPT FOR STEWING A TONGUE.

After the tongue has been soaked, trimmed, and washed with
extreme nicety, lay it into a vessel of fitting size, and place round it
three or four pounds of the neck, or of any other lean cuttings of
beef, with some bones of undressed veal, and pour in sufficient cold
water to keep it covered until it is done; or, instead of this, use strong
unseasoned beef broth made with the shin, and any odd bits or
bones of veal which may be at hand. Let the tongue be brought to
boil very gradually, that it may be plump and tender. Remove the
scum when it first rises, and when it is quite cleared off add a large
faggot of parsley, thyme, and winter savoury, three carrots, a small
onion, and one mild turnip. After three hours and a half of gentle
simmering, probe the tongue, and if sufficiently done peel off the skin
and serve it quickly. If not wanted hot for table, lay it upon a very
clean board or trencher, and fasten it down to it by passing a carving
fork through the root, and a smaller one through the tip, drawing the
tongue straight with the latter before it is fixed in the board; let it
remain thus until it is quite cold. It is much the fashion at present to
glaze hams and tongues, but this should never be attempted by a
cook not well acquainted with the manner of doing it, and the proper
flavour and appearance of the glaze. For directions to make it, see
page 104. Where expense is not regarded, three or four pounds of
veal may be added to the beef in this receipt, or the tongue may be
stewed in a prepared gravy made with equal parts of beef and veal,
and vegetables as above, but without salt: this may afterwards be
converted into excellent soup. A fresh or an unsmoked tongue may
be dressed in this way, but will require less time: for the former, salt
must be added to the gravy.
 TO ROAST A BEEF HEART.

Wash and soak the heart very thoroughly, cut away the lobes, fill
the cavities with a veal forcemeat (No. 1, Chapter VIII.), secure it
well with a needle and twine, or very coarse thread, and roast it at a
good fire for an hour and a half, keeping it basted plentifully with
butter. Pour melted butter over it, after it is dished, and send it to
table as hot as possible. Many persons boil the heart for three
quarters of an hour before it is put to the fire, and this is said to
render it more delicate eating; the time of roasting must of course be
proportionately diminished. Good brown gravy may be substituted for
the melted butter, and currant jelly also may be served with it.
1-1/2 hour, or more.
 BEEF KIDNEY.

Slice the kidney rather thin, after having stripped off the skin and
removed the fat; season it with pepper, salt, and grated nutmeg, and
sprinkle over it plenty of minced parsley, or equal parts of parsley
and eschalots chopped very small. Fry the slices over a brisk fire,
and when nicely browned on both sides, stir amongst them a
teaspoonful of flour, and pour in by degrees a cup of gravy and a
glass of white wine; bring the sauce to the point of boiling, add a
morsel of fresh butter and a tablespoonful of lemon-juice, and pour
the whole into a hot dish garnished with fried bread. This is a French
receipt, and a very excellent one.
 BEEF KIDNEY.

(A plainer way.)

Trim, and cut the kidney into slices; season them with salt and
pepper, and dredge them well with flour; fry them on both sides, and
when they are done through lift them out, empty the pan, and make
gravy for them with a small slice of butter, a dessertspoonful of flour,
pepper and salt, and a cup of boiling water; shake these round and
give them a minute’s simmering: add a little mushroom catsup,
lemon juice, eschalot vinegar, or any store sauce that will give a
good flavour. Minced herbs are to many tastes an improvement to
this dish, to which a small quantity of onion shred fine can be added
when it is liked.
6 to 9 minutes.
 AN EXCELLENT HASH OF COLD BEEF.

Put a slice of butter into a thick saucepan, and when it boils throw
in a dessertspoonful of minced herbs, and an onion (or two or three
eschalots) shred small: shake them over the fire until they are lightly
browned, then stir in a tablespoonful of flour, a little cayenne, some
mace or nutmeg, and half a teaspoonful of salt. When the whole is
well coloured, pour to it three-quarters of a pint or more of broth or
gravy, according to the quantity of meat to be served in it. Let this
boil gently for fifteen minutes; then strain it, add half a wineglassful of
mushroom or of compound catsup, lay in the meat, and keep it by
the side of the fire until it is heated through and is on the point of
simmering, but be sure not to let it boil. Serve it up in a very hot dish,
and garnish it with fried or toasted sippets of bread.
 A COMMON HASH OF COLD BEEF OR MUTTON.

Take the meat from the bones, slice it small, trim off the brown
edges, and stew down the trimmings with the bones well broken, an
onion, a bunch of thyme and parsley, a carrot cut into thick slices, a
few peppercorns, four cloves, some salt, and a pint and a half of
water. When this is reduced to little more than three quarters of a
pint, strain it, clear it from the fat, thicken it with a large
dessertspoonful of rice flour, or rather less of arrow-root, add salt
and pepper if needed, boil the whole for a few minutes, then lay in
the meat and heat it well. Boiled potatoes are sometimes sliced hot
into a very common hash.
Obs.—The cook should be reminded that if the meat in a hash or
mince be allowed to boil, it will immediately become hard, and can
then only be rendered eatable by very long stewing, which is by no
means desirable for meat which is already sufficiently cooked.
 BRESLAW OF BEEF.

(Good.)
Trim the brown edges from half a pound of undressed roast beef,
shred it small, and mix it with four ounces of fine bread-crumbs, a
teaspoonful of minced parley, and two-thirds as much of thyme, two
ounces of butter broken small, half a cupful of gravy or cream, a high
seasoning of pepper and cayenne and mace or nutmeg, a small
teaspoonful of salt, and three large eggs well whisked. Melt a little
butter in a deep dish, pour in the beef, and bake it half an hour; turn
it out, and send it to table with brown gravy in a tureen. When cream
or gravy is not at hand, an additional egg or two and rather more
butter must be used. We think that grated lemon-rind improves the
breslaw. A portion of fat from the joint can be added where it is liked.
The mixture is sometimes baked in buttered cups.
Beef, 1/2 lb.; bread-crumbs, 4 oz.; butter, 2 oz.; gravy or cream,
1/2 cupful; parsley, 1 teaspoonful; thyme, two-thirds of teaspoonful;
eggs, 3 or 4, if small; salt, 1 teaspoonful; pepper and nutmeg, 1/2
teaspoonful each: bake 1/2 hour.
 NORMAN HASH.

Peel and fry two dozens of button onions in butter until they are
lightly browned, then stir to them a tablespoonful of flour, and when
the whole is of a deep amber shade, pour in a wineglassful and a
half of red wine, and a large cup of boiling broth or water; add a
seasoning of salt and common pepper or cayenne, and a little
lemon-pickle catsup or lemon-juice, and boil the whole until the
onions are quite tender; cut and trim into small handsome slices the
remains of either a roast or boiled joint of beef, and arrange them in
a clean saucepan; pour the gravy and onions on them, and let them
stand for awhile to imbibe the flavour of the sauce; then place the
hash near the fire, and when it is thoroughly hot serve it immediately,
without allowing it to boil.
 FRENCH RECEIPT FOR HASHED BOUILLI.

Shake over a slow fire a bit of butter the size of an egg, and a
tablespoonful of flour; when they have simmered for a minute, stir to
them a little finely-chopped onion, and a dessertspoonful of minced
parsley; so soon as the whole is equally browned, add sufficient
pepper, salt, and nutmeg to season the hash properly, and from half
to three quarters of a pint of boiling water or of bouillon. Put in the
beef cut into small but thick slices; let it stand by the fire and heat
gradually; and when near the point of boiling thicken the sauce with
the yolks of three eggs, mixed with a tablespoonful of lemon-juice.
For change, omit the eggs, and substitute a tablespoonful of catsup,
and another of pickled gherkins minced or sliced.
 BAKED MINCED BEEF.

Mince tolerably fine, with a moderate proportion of its own fat, as

much of the inside of a cold roast joint as will suffice for a dish: that
which is least done is best for the purpose. Season it rather highly
with cayenne and mace or nutmeg, and moderately with salt; add,
when they are liked, one or two eschalots minced small, with a few
chopped mushrooms either fresh or pickled, or two tablespoonsful of
mushroom catsup. Mix the whole well with a cupful of good gravy,
and put it into a deep dish. Place on the top an inch-thick layer of
bread-crumbs, moisten these plentifully with clarified butter passed
through a small strainer over them, and send the mince to a slow
oven for twenty minutes, or brown it in a Dutch oven.
 SAUNDERS.

Spread on the dish in which the saunders are to be served, a layer

of smoothly mashed potatoes, which have been seasoned with salt
and mixed with about an ounce of butter to the pound. On these
spread equally and thickly some underdressed beef or mutton
minced and mixed with a little of the gravy that has run from the joint,
or with a few spoonsful of any other; and season it with salt, pepper,
and a small quantity of nutmeg. Place evenly over this another layer
of potatoes, and send the dish to a moderate oven for half an hour. A
very superior kind of saunders is made by substituting fresh meat for
roasted; but this requires to be baked an hour or something more.
Sausage-meat highly seasoned may be served in this way, instead
of beef or mutton.
 TO BOIL MARROW BONES.

Let the large ends of the bones be sawed by the butcher, so that
when they are dished they may stand upright; and if it can be done
conveniently, let them be placed in the same manner in the vessel in
which they are boiled. Put a bit of paste, made with flour and water,
over the ends where the marrow is visible, and tie a cloth tightly over
them; take the paste off before the bones are sent to table, and
serve them, placed upright in a napkin, with slices of dry toasted
bread apart. When not wanted for immediate use, they may be
partially boiled, and set into a cool place, where they will remain
good for many days.
Large marrow bones, 2 hours; moderate sized, 1-1/2 hour. To
keep; boil them 1-1/2 hour, and from 1/2 to 3/4 hour more when
wanted for table.
 BAKED MARROW BONES.

When the bones have been sawed to the length of a deep pie-
dish, wash and wipe them dry, lay them into it, and cover them
entirely with a good batter. Send them to a moderate oven for an
hour or more, and serve them in the batter.
 CLARIFIED MARROW FOR KEEPING.

Take the marrow from the bones while it is as fresh as possible;

cut it small, put it into a very clean jar, and melt it with a gentle heat,
either in a pan of water placed over the fire, or at the mouth of a cool
oven; strain it through a muslin, let it settle for a minute or two, and
pour it, clear of sediment, into small jars. Tie skins, or double folds of
thick paper, over them as soon as the marrow is cold, and store it in
a cool place. It will remain good for months.
 OX-CHEEK STUFFED AND BAKED.

(Good, and not expensive.)

Cleanse, with the greatest nicety, a fresh ox-cheek by washing,
scraping it lightly with a knife, and soaking out the blood; then put it
into plenty of warm water, and boil it gently for about an hour. Throw
in a large teaspoonful of salt, and carefully remove all the scum as it
rises to the surface. Let it cool after it is lifted out, and then take
away the bones, remembering always to work the knife close to
them, and to avoid piercing the skin. When the cheek has become
cold, put into it a good roll of forcemeat, made by the receipt Nos. 1,
2, or 3, of Chapter IX., or substitute the oyster or mushroom
forcemeat which follows; but in any case increase the quantity one-
half at least: then skewer or bind up the cheek securely, and send it
to a moderate oven for an hour or an hour and a half. It should be
baked until it is exceedingly tender quite through. Drain it well from
fat, dish it, withdraw the skewers, or unbind it gently, and either
sauce it with a little good brown gravy, or send it to table with melted
butter in a tureen, a cut lemon, and cayenne, or with any sauce of
Chapter V., which may be considered more appropriate.