The Amorous Bleeding of Passion
Frolicking her golden hair, now embellished with the cruel frosts, as the icy winds whipped our skins with its contemptuous song, I whisper softly “God be with you” over and over again. This cruel autumn night when virgin Diana waxes brightly in the darkened skies but brings us no warmth, am I to alas succumb to the arrogant wanton wrath of my father? Lord Astyanax! He had killed the girl I once treasured dearly, war spoil though she was and sent our child away. Now my second love is dying too and only seventeen years have passed in my ill-fated life. My cloak is staining a deep crimson with her blood yet she still breathes. But I have neither healing supplies, nor armor, neither weapons nor horse; all these were encroached from us by malicious libertines that laughed as I screamed my agonies upon their torture instruments. Sweet Atlanta, such a legendary huntress’s name suits her, no weak woman is she. My audacious enchantress had valiantly slain almost every one of them lawless demons who abducted me; the few that survived escaped with all the loot they seized. I sobbed in anguish, as I watched through the bars, to see my glistening jewel so shattered. Heaving with blood purging through her fair body, she freed my limbs of the binding shackles.
Curse them, evil libertines that haunt innocent travelers! Five ruthless druids they were, with their wretched familiars: wyverns, centaurs with deadly arrows and cruel harpies. I am exhausted, three days I haven’t slept for they tortured me all night in ways I have not the words tainted, atrocious or deviant enough. Now dusk has fallen, and in my arms, my only flame of hope lies on the verge of being snuffed. Ceres is merciless as she laments her daughter and I hear horses, which are surely foe. I have nothing to defend my passionate wounded lark or myself from this promised enemy; soon darkness will cover our eyes. Caressing her delicate hands with my wiry ones, the Latin motto rings in my mind. “Amor Vincit Omnia (love conquers all)” If it speaks the truth, tonight love is all that remains for me. Come laughing myrtle wreathed Venus! Show me your superiority. I have already the mastered the many arts of war; my father had put me through much training with a heavy sword. At the age of sixteen I entered my first battle, my father abhorring this enemy among all others but there to my plight I found my first lover, Dionysia, daughter of a rich priest. Blood drenched and riotous as I rashly sacked her city; she embraced my knees begging “Spare my aging father, and younger brothers. My three elder brothers have all fallen in battle, but plunder our home as you wish”. Awed with her beauty, and the sweetness of her voice I cast down my sword enthralled replying “I will protect your house, if you swear to come to my land hereafter this slaughter of murderous Mars and marry me” and she swore to the oath. But when I brought my Dionysia home to our kingdom, my father was greatly displeased. He reluctantly let her stay in our house, though swore woe would betide her if she remained. Only a year later she bore me a son, and her womb wept crimson madly as she bled to death in my arms, in her last moments we named him Diomedes. Inconsolable I mourned and mourned, I would have taken my own life to be with her, was it not for this gorgeous child. A month later, as I sat lonely and distraught in the deepest forest, strumming the dreariest tunes upon my lyre, I met Atlanta hunting under the moonlight with her brothers. Surprised, I watched her eyes light with compassion not even knowing her name when she asked: “How can such a strong beautiful youth ruin his virility, weeping away in this darkness?” I released my burden, strumming my lyre deftly singing all my sorrows as if I had known her forever, and she consoled me with her sweetest embraces. Soon I brought Atlanta to my kingdom, and my father was pleased, and she too came to love the bastard son of mine. But sorrow benighted our world, when I woke to find my precious infant gone. I begged father for answers and he scorned “Sarpedon lad! I know nothing about your bastard and want nothing to do with his fiendish blood. That child is no more than a great dishonor to our lineage name with that wretched ancestral mother of his!” After a long search, Atlanta and I consulted the greatest prophet in the land, who whispered solemnly “Diomedes! Lord Astyanax killed his mother with a fatal concoction where one who drinks would bleed to death internally. The child himself has been locked away in a distant, turret to die but angels are nurturing the baby so no harm will come to him. If you leave him be, he will grow in another’s house and never know his father. If you seek him and succeed he will grow into a fine wonderful man, loving both of you unconditionally. However if you seek the infant, I cannot be certain that you will survive and many grueling hardships await you.” Atlanta and I gathered horses, weapons, armor, and gold and set off to find Diomedes. Our friends tearfully bade us farewell. Many adventures we had, leaving the carnage of numerous brutes, evil hosts, and thieves behind us.
Now all has come vainly to an end, with virtue torn asunder. We lie here, forlorn, tattered and ransacked with nothing left but each other, and now the proceeding hooves ring louder, and death is nearer. Caressing her body as she still breathes, I still whisper “God be with you” closing my eyes and squeezing her tight. This is the end! I cannot watch. The time has come, I cannot believe this, and both of us are so young. I hear the horses come to a halt, and then a voice speaking:
“Sarpedon my boy, are you alright? I have the child you have ventured for so long and hard, now let us go home.”
A gravely familiar voice, upon hearing my name, my eyes snap open, and there before me stands a brawny aged lord, with his long white beard entwined about his face and a snoozing toddler lies in his arms.
“Father is it you? Is that my Diomedes” I cry in disbelief.
The lord, laughed cheerfully rejoicing
“My child it is! Your long absence had greatly saddened me, and thus I realized the power of a father’s love. So I have brought you your son. Now I beg you to come home and forgive me... I missed you”
Forgive! The word hit me harder than any whipcord I had been lashed with as a boy for being naughty. My rapture ended, and at once my heart filled with rage.
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