The Myth of Polyphonte and the Origin of the Striges
Tell me, oh Melpomene, Muse of Tragedy, of the one called Polyphonte, she who tried to resist the charms of fair Aphrodite, but who spurned the protections of wild Artemis. Speak to me of she who heeded not the kings nor even the gods, and was cursed forever by them to be an omen of war and sickness for all mankind.
As a babe, Polyphonte was much like any other child, save that her eyes were pitch black and her hair grey rather than brown, something her parents put down to their own divine parentage, being the children of Ares and the god Triballos of the Northern Tribes. Her parents named the girl Polyphonte, which means ‘slayer of many’ in honor of her grandfather, War. As she grew, she showed great skill with weapons, and received much praise for her talents. Her parents instructed her in the proper ways of paying her respects to the gods, for despite both being children of gods themselves, they knew better than to anger the Olympians. They took care to leave extra offerings for Aphrodite, hoping the goddess would favor their daughter when she came of age; Polyphonte, when she left offerings, much preferred the goddess Artemis, admiring her skill and power.
By the time Polyphonte reached sixteen years, Hipponous and Thrassa had chosen a young man from a well-off family for their daughter to marry, and Polyphonte knew that her time had come. The young man’s name was Aphroidoros, and he was of proud bearing, strong of body and possessed of a keen mind. She knew Aphroidoros; indeed, he was quite charming and many of the village girls and a few of the boys knew him very well. Now, however, he was of a different bearing than before: his head was bowed and seemed slightly nervous around her parents, not meeting Polyphonte’s eyes. As soon as their parents moved into a side chamber of the palace to discuss the wedding plans, Aphroidoros’ demeanor changed, and he pulled her to him, kissing her. Shocked by the sudden movement, Polyphonte pulled away and struck him in the chest, knocking him back. Surprise and anger flushed his face.
“Why do you resist me, Polyphonte?” He demanded angrily. “If we are to be married, should we not be happy? Should this not be a time for celebration?”
Polyphonte’s mind whirled. Why had she punched him? Had she not loved Aphroidoros? Why was she feeling so uncomfortable now? Her heart beat angrily in her chest. And over a simple kiss? She’d seen his body, and shared time with him, but they’d never kissed. Come to think of it, she realized, she’d never particularly wanted to kiss anyone. But this was not the time for such thoughts. She would work out whatever was causing her anxiety later. Returning to herself, she quickly assuaged his fears, saying “No dear Aphroidoros, you’re right, of course we should celebrate. You surprised me, I didn’t expect to be kissed so suddenly, that’s all. I didn’t want my parents or yours to suspect us until after we’re married.”
Aphroidoros’ relaxed, rubbing his chest. “That is good, for I would not want to be unable to kiss my own wife without risking being punched.” He smiled. “I will wait until our wedding, but not after.”
Just at this time, the young couple’s parents returned, distracting Aphroidoros so that he did not see the shudder Polyphonte was unable to repress at his words.
The wedding was to be over a month from that day, and Polyphonte convinced herself that she was simply nervous. She would overcome her feelings by then. She would. She must. A week passed, and she was forced to meet Aphroidoros once again as their families discussed the details of the wedding. But Polyphonte still felt a pit in her stomach, and his words haunted her. Another week passed, and the wedding was but two away. Polyphonte’s feelings hadn’t changed. Another week, and with the wedding fast approaching, she realized she would have to face the truth. Knowing she couldn’t force herself to go through with the ceremony, she set took her father’s bow and some clothing and made her way into the wilderness.
Polyphonte traveled north around the bay now known as the Thermaic Gulf, but which in those days had no name, sustaining herself on wild animals and plants and avoiding the main roads, though there were some narrow misses for the first few days. On the third night, she was camped on the edge of a swampy area by the coast. She had prepared a fire and was roasting a rather large frog she’d caught for dinner, when she happened to look up and saw a collection of lights to the south. They were moving towards her. Immediately, she extinguished her fire and moved into the swampy grasses, grateful that it was the summer, else the water might have frozen her feet solid. Hiding low behind a tree, she watched as the lights drew nearer, and then passed to the north, avoiding the swampy terrain, fading in time. The next morning, Polyphonte moved into the hills to the northeast, taking a longer route, but one that would afford her more protection. After a further five days went by, she began moving south, and in encountering fewer people, was able to follow the herms that marked the road more closely. As she moved south over the following weeks, the palace-cities became larger and more opulent, forcing Polyphonte to go to greater lengths to avoid them, for fear of being recognized should someone from Olynthos follow her. Two days after passing a city she would later learn was named Korinthos, she came to a great forest, thick with trees. Polyphonte made her way up a stream into the hills and over a ridgeline before setting up camp for the night. The next morning, she set out, stepping quietly out of an instinct she could not explain. Seeing a squirrel, she drew her bow and began moving towards it when a figure stepped out from the trees, drawing a shriek from Polyphonte, who loosed her bow at the approaching stranger. Artemis, with inhuman speed and grace, caught the arrow mid-flight, a hair’s breadth from her chest and knocked it to her own expertly crafted silver bow. She was clothed in expertly-skinned animal pelts, her skin tanned and browned, her dark hair tied loosely behind her head so it tumbled down her back, and her eyes were brown but flecked with green and focused on the girl at her feet.
“Who are you and why have you come here?” the goddess asked. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, yet echoed off the trees.
Polyphonte composed herself and rose to one knee before replying, “Great goddess, I am being forced to marry a man I don’t want to be with,” she explained “I can’t be trapped in a life with him, and the things he talks about, I can’t explain it, but I don’t want to, I can’t take part. But my parents insist on us getting married. I’ve always left extra sacrifices to you my entire life, and honored you first among the gods in my worship, even before your father’s sister Hestia. Please, let me to join your hunt, or I’m worried I’ll have to marry him.”
Artemis considered the girl before her. She pondered for a minute, considering the deeds Polyphonte had done with Aphroidoros as well as the girl’s skill in hunting, before saying “You may join me, on the condition that you continue to honor me and you must never allow yourself to be seduced by anyone while in my service, lest you defile it and dishonor me. You must dedicate yourself to the hunt, now and for all time, and so long as you live your life in this forest, respect me and the animals that dwell here. Do you accept?”
Polyphonte raised her head, relief flooding her face. “Yes! Yes! By Zeus and Athena and Ares yes! Oh wise and generous Lady Artemis, thank you!”
Nodding curtly in acceptance, Artemis dissolved back into the forest, and a young person named Hippolytus, who was the child of King Theseus, stepped out. He explained that he was another hunter sworn to Artemis, and that the goddess was needed elsewhere, but would make herself known if she was needed by her followers. Hippolytus escorted Polyphonte through the pines, following a narrow path up into the mountains for a further three days, eventually coming to a large lake at the base of a great mountain. He left her with a new set clothes and went to find some food for the both of them, returning a time later. In the morning, they continued to climb, making camp in mountain pass. Early on the third day since passing the lake, Hippolytus and Polyphonte came out into a meadow nestled in the trees in a valley between the mountains, where scores of hunters relaxed on logs and boulders surrounding a colossal boar that sat roasting over a fire in the center of the clearing.
Several moons passed, and Polyphonte found herself far happier than she had been in a long time. Her time was split between hunting and feasting and bathing and in the evenings, there were contests of archery to honor Artemis and contests of song and story to honor Apollo. Her new friends welcomed Polyphonte with open arms, even more when her hunting skills became apparent. It was truly a hunter’s paradise. The only oddity was an oak tree in the center of the glade which looked as if it had been struck by lightning not long ago, but which none of the other hunters would discuss.
Unknown to Polyphonte, however, vengeful Aphrodite had seen what was happening from atop Olympus, and grew incandescent with rage that a mere mortal would defy her gifts by refusing to marry at her appointed time, having never been made aware of the agreement made by Artemis, Hestia, and Athena to protect those portions of mankind who were free from her influence. Aphrodite began to plot and observe Polyphonte’s activities. Subtlety was not normally her specialty, but this would require stealth to avoid the interference of some of the other gods, who would undoubtedly take interest in the affairs of their own grandchild. Knowing she couldn’t directly interfere, Aphrodite sent one of her servants, the erotes Pothos, the god of yearning, to follow Polyphonte everywhere disguised as a sparrow, silently exerting his power over her to make her desire grow, even if he couldn’t control where it was directed. Her trap taking shape, Aphrodite next needed bait. Taking a bear from the forest, she used her demonic powers to transform it into a man. Shaping him as Prometheus had once shaped all mankind, she set in him the form of her dearest love, Adonis, and made him an agent of her will.
A day’s journey from the glade, on the other side of one of the mountains bordering the forest that housed Artemis’ followers, there was a spring that fed a small pool flanked by large flat stones and large boulders; it was the perfect place to bathe and sun oneself in privacy. Aphrodite named the bear Autoskotos, and sent him to the spring with instructions to wait. After setting her servant in his role, Aphrodite sent a large deer to lure Polyphonte to the spring when she was out hunting. Knowing Polyphonte was approaching, Autoskotos began lifting boulders as if he were in a gymnasion, his muscles soon glowing with a thin layer of sweat. Following the deer, Polyphonte soon emerged from the forest and saw the young man exercising. Uncertain of his intent, she stepped behind a tree and observed. She watched the young man for several minutes, his muscles bulging as he exercised. He sported short brown hair and a thin beard on his chin, and his skin was browned from time spent outside. A yearning began to build up inside of her, but remembering her promise to Artemis, Polyphonte pushed the feelings aside, readied her bow, assumed a tone that implied a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, and approached the young man.
“Hail stranger! I’ve never seen you in these woods, so far from the cities. Have you come to join Lady Artemis’ hunt?” she asked, diverting her eyes from his naked body as she approached.
The young man dropped the stone he was lifting. “Artemis?” “No, I came here to exercise and bathe. My name is Autoskotos, son of Tantalos; I am on a hunting trip with my brothers; we are camped a short distance from here. But you must forgive my impertinence in speaking to you; surely you must be the great Hunter Artemis? I have heard that you greet those who wander into your domain. Forgive me, I am but a minor prince of Olympia, I should not be speaking so directly to one who is clearly the daughter of Zeus.”
Polyphonte blushed: Autoskotos was still naked. Keeping her eyes averted, she replied “no, I’m just one of Lady Artemis’ hunters, newly joined the hunt. I was following a deer, and it led me to this place. Have you seen it?”
Autoskotos ignored the last question, and spotting the sparrow that was perched above her head on a branch, said “but I cannot believe one so radiant would be but a farm girl run away to the forest to live with the animals. Surely, your mother must have been Aphrodite, for my eyes have never before beheld such radiant beauty.”
It was a strong and very forward approach, but Polyphonte’s eyes turned to him unbidden just as Autoskotos dove into the water, washing himself off before emerging and donning his tunic and blocking her gaze. “My queen, I must return to my home” he continued as if her face wasn’t glowing like Apollo’s chariot, “but if I were to know I might see you again, I would be very much inclined to find an excuse to return.”
Polyphonte’s face burned. Her mind whirled, thoughts crashing in a confused tumult of emotion. Finally, she managed to force out “Yes. I. I’d like that”.
With a low bow, he turned to the trees and disappeared from sight. Confused at the potency of the feeling that had come over her, Polyphonte made camp for the night, and returned to the glade the following day, to finish tanning the animal skin she’d left soaking and then meeting back up with Hippolytus to prepare for another hunt. As was their want, the two discussed happenings around the glade as well as any news that reached them from the outside world. Their glade was secluded in the mountains, so this most often amounted to little more than a mention of a deer bearing young or a traveler spotted on the roads when someone came back from a long hunt. That day, Hippolytus told Polyphonte of rumors of a heretical king, far to the south across the seas, grabbing power in defiance of the gods. Their preparations took up the rest of their day, and they passed their time speculating how long this heretical king would last, and what the gods would do to him for disobeying them.
The hunt was not for several weeks, and Polyphonte spent her free time by the spring, talking with Autoskotos, discussing the finer points of hunting. When the time for the hunt came, she set off with Hippolytus, who quickly picked up the tracks of a large deer. They tracked the animal for several more days before finally bringing it down, both showing a great deal of skill, Hippolytus tracking the animal and Polyphonte bringing it down with unswerving accuracy with a bow.
On their way back, Hippolytus asked “Have you seen anything unusual recently? I’ve noticed an unusual number of sparrows off to the west, and you came back from a hunt in that direction.”
“No, nothing unusual,” she said, turning down a fork in the path and avoiding his eyes. “Why? What’s so bad about sparrows? You worried they’ll what, chirp at you?”
Hippolytus ignored her jab. “I cannot say for certain why, but sparrows and swans always make me feel uneasy when I see them in large groups. Perhaps because birds are often a sign from the gods; eagles are especially hated around here. Do you know why the great oak in the center of the glade is burned?”
Polyphonte stopped in her tracks. No one had spoken of the tree in spite of her questions. She shook her head.
“A few years before you came to our commune, there was an incident with Lord Zeus that was preceded by a large flock of eagles in the area. Zeus Moicheftikós fell in love with the nymph Kallisto who lived with us as a hunter. She was one of the goddesses’ favorites, and rarely spent time apart. As I said, Lord Zeus fell in love with Kallisto, and, transforming himself into the likeness of Artemis, seduced her. They did their business right in the middle of the glade during a feast, and in full view of everyone, including Artemis. I have never seen her as angry. The moon glowed as the sun, and in a flash of light, adulterous Zeus was transformed into an eagle and was chased off by a stag, and where Kallisto had laid now stood a bear with reddish fur, the same color as her hair.”
Polyphonte was about to respond when Hippolytus suddenly pulled her behind a bush, pulling her to the ground and putting his hand over her mouth. She brought her fist back to punch him when he pointed through a gap in the bushes. Holding off on the punch to his jaw, she looked through the bush and she saw a large brown bear wander over to a tree a few dozen paces away and sharpen its claws, leaving deep gashes that began bleeding sap almost immediately. Understanding, Polyphonte nodded to Hippolytus, and he released her, allowing her to sit up. Both knew that bears had no desire to harm humans, but they were hidden from the predators of the forest during their hunt by use of Artemis’ magic, and surprising a bear in the middle of the forest while it marked its territory could prove dangerous, to say the least. The bear continued on, and the two continued on their way after Polyphonte gave Hippolytus a punch to the shoulder.
After the bear encounter, life returned to normal for a time: Polyphonte continued to visit the spring and enjoy the company of Autoskotos, time she found ever more enjoyable. He told her stories of his time in his father’s court, stories of love and stories he’d heard from others. He would sit around the campfire with Polyphonte and tell her a tale of a great monster that even the gods feared, one with shoulders from which grew a hundred heads of a snake and a fearful dragon, with dark, flickering tongues, and eyes in his marvelous heads that flashed fire. And though Autoskotos made occasional advances towards her, she remained true to her word, the story of Kallisto ever on her mind. All the while, Aphrodite was watching from Olympus, her rage building at the mortal’s continued refusal to submit to her. After a time, Autoskotos stopped pressing Polyphonte, but she noticed he always seemed to be exercising whenever she arrived at the spring and there always seemed to be large flocks of sparrows in the trees, just as Hippolytus had said. Regardless, Autoskotos was charming, and Polyphonte found it ever more difficult to avert her eyes whenever she arrived at the spring, a feeling that only grew with the passing months. By this time, nearly a year had passed since she’d joined Artemis’ coven; more than a year since Polyphonte had any physical companionship.
It was around this time that another hunter arrived in the glade, distracting Polyphonte from her thoughts: a youth about the age of Polyphonte herself, and with much the same story. The hunters began preparing for a feast to welcome him, and Polyphonte and Hippolytus were sent to bring back a deer. After the feast, Polyphonte returned to the spring to clear her thoughts that had been churning in her mind throughout the entire event. After Hippolytus’ story about Kallisto, she’d tried to avoid the meadow, but the new hunter’s welcome made that impossible. What had happened to that poor girl was tragic, she thought. All that because a god had seduced her? It didn’t sit right. When she arrived at the spring, however, there was Autoskotos, exercising just as he had the day she first saw him, naked and muscled. Her whole body ached. How long must she deny herself her needs? Why should she not enjoy her time with Autoskotos? He was here and he was willing. And Kallisto had desecrated Artemis’ Sacred Grove; surely, she was far enough from there that Artemis would never know. And it had been such a very long time.
Polyphonte stretched herself out on a rock, feeling the sun on her skin and warm relief sweep through her body. It had been far too long, far too long since she’d shared a sense of intimate closeness with someone, and this had been far more intense than anything she’d done with Aphroidoros. She lay there, the dying sun soaking into her skin. It would be setting soon, and Autoskotos had left to return home, but had promised to return. Polyphonte got up to return to the grove, donning her clothing and turning to collect her bow. But her bow was gone. Surely no one had taken it? Who else knew of the spring, and why would they steal her bow? She began searching, retracing her steps back towards the forest where she sometimes left her belongings on one of the rocks, when the shadows of the forest shifted and out stepped Artemis, her eyes blazing with the fires of Typhon, the great demon that even the gods themselves feared. In her hands was the bow she had gifted to Polyphonte, and it was aimed directly at the girl’s heart.
“You dare to return to my Grove having betrayed me?” she spat. “You dare to allow yourself to be profaned in my forest?”
Polyphonte stumbled backwards, tripped, and fell. Regret and dread filled her. She rose to her knees, pleading with the enraged goddess “please forgive me! Please, Lady Artemis!” An arrow sung past her face, landing with a dull thud behind her. “Please, I’ve gone without for a year, I had to!” Polyphonte stammered, tears beginning to flow. Another arrow. Artemis glared at the girl at her feet.
“All who join my Hunt have sworn to forever forswear all physical company and pursue only the hunt. Your agreement was as theirs. I have never forbidden my followers from satisfying themselves, for my father and brother made you so, and you cannot be expected to turn against their designs. But you go far beyond the bounds of my tolerance! You will leave and never return to these woods again, lest the animals of the forest tear you apart.” Polyphonte crawled forward, tears streaming down her face, her words incoherent behind her crying. Artemis notched another arrow, aiming at Polyphonte’s face. Terrible was the rage that flickered in her eyes. “If you have not left this forest by sundown tomorrow, you will suffer as you cannot even imagine. You will be a stag for our next hunt, and your friends will hunt you down and kill you. You will beg for their mercy, but it will never come. Your screams will echo through these mountains for all time.” Fear crystalized in Polyphonte’s mind, cutting through everything else and focusing her mind on but one thought: escape. Turning, she tore off into the forest like a deer chased by dogs, away from the grove, away from Artemis, away from the danger. She ran for what felt like hours before she recalled what Autoskotos had said about his father’s court, off to the west. He had caused all of this. He would aid her. He must. She didn’t have a bow, but she knew how to hunt, and how to kill even without one. Deciding, she turned her steps to follow the river as it flowed down the mountain to the ocean; from there, she could find that city, and find Autoskotos.
Polyphonte fled through the forest, following the river, knowing it would lead her to the coast and away from the mountain glade. After a week of subsisting on the plants she could scavenge, the river valley opened as it turned to the east, and after following it around a bend, she saw before her the very city she sought. By a stroke of luck, her spring was one of the multitude that fed the river which flowed past Olympia on its way to the sea. Passing through the gates to the city, the urban environment felt alien after so long in the forest. The cyclopean buildings bore down on her as she made her way up to the palace to meet the king and explain the fate that had befallen her. On giving her name, Polyphonte was welcomed into the palace and quickly greeted by the king himself. Tantalus, king of Olympia, she soon learned, had been the guest of her father many years before, and welcomed Polyphonte as a xenia, a guest. Polyphonte was given a room in the palace overlooking the river and a place to bathe. Just hours after, as the sun was beginning to set, Tantalus arrived in her room and joined her at the window.
He gazed down at the silver-green sea of olive trees that stretched out along the river valley, commenting “Athena has been kind to us. My people tell me that there will be a bountiful crop this year, more than enough to light our homes and cook our food. But I forget myself; you are troubled, my dear. Your brow is furrowed like the sea in a storm. What can I do to aid the daughter of my oldest friend?” Polyphonte turned to him, and explained what she’d gone through in the forest, leaving out some of the sordid details, but making it clear that Autoskotos was the one who seduced her. By the time she finished, Tantalus’ brow too was furrowed. “My dear, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to marry one of my sons to you and welcome you into my house,” he said, “but none of my children bear such a name, nor are they old enough to have travel such a distance, let alone to have been responsible for your experience. I am truly sorry that you were mistreated so, and I will have my people ask around the city in search of anyone who bears such a name, but I regret that it was not one of my own sons.”
Polyphonte was stunned, but she knew there was nothing to be done. Whoever the man had been, he could be anywhere by this point, leagues ahead of her, and she couldn’t even go back to the forest to track him; if he’d lied about being the prince, about those stories from the court, the chance that he was actually from Olympia was slim at best. She dropped to her bed as her knees gave out under her. The king sat down by her side, comforting her, and continued, “My dear, I must send word to your father, informing him that you are safe. He and your mother have been worried for you so, and desperately wish to see you again. In the meantime, you will stay in my palace as my guest.” The king left the room, and realizing just how exhausted and hungry she was from her ordeal, Polyphonte devoured her dinner before collapsing back into the bed and falling asleep.
She awoke the two days later to a bright, beautiful sunrise which cast long mournful shadows over her room. Dressing, she slipped down the stairs and stole a bow from the palace’s armory, before donning a hooded tunic and sneaking out of the town, moving north into the forest. She had no intentions of returning to Aphroidoros. Even if she couldn’t live with Artemis, she could still use the skills she’d learned to provide for herself. She’d make her way to Chaklis, build a small house there, and trade in firs and meat, and never have to face Artemis or Aphroidoros again. However, she hadn’t taken five steps into the woods before she heard a growl and a bear stepped out of the brush, its shaggy brown fur bristling as its lips parted. Polyphonte froze. This bear was smaller than the one back in the glade, but it was still a bear, and still very dangerous. She began slowly to back away, out of the woods. The bear followed, keeping pace with her, and stopped when it reached the edge of the forest. Polyphonte turned east and began to move along the edge of the forest, but the bear kept pace, growling the whole time. No matter what tricks she tried, she could not lose the bear, nor proceed further into the forest by more than a few steps without another predator appearing out of the trees. After an hour’s effort, it became clear: Artemis hadn’t merely turned the animals of the forest glade against her. Artemis had turned all of the animals everywhere against her. Were she to ever hunt again without time to concoct a plan, she would risk the animals of the forest coming to kill her, and without money to purchase land for a farm, or a boat, Polyphonte had no other means to provide for herself in the meantime.
Despairing her future, Polyphonte trudged back up to the city, slipping over the walls to avoid detection and making her way back up to the palace and to her awaiting parents, who had rushed from their search in Corinth to Olympia when they learned the news. After much crying and reproaching for leaving without warning, Polyphonte’s parents and a sizeable contingent of guards escorted her down to a cart that would carry them down to the coast, where a ship waited to carry them back up north.
High on Olympus, violent Aphrodite smiled to herself. The net she had cast had entangled Polyphonte completely, and now was the time to bring the girl down, punishment for daring to spurn the goddess’ power. While Polyphonte sat in the cart from Olympia, Aphrodite visited Hera, queen of the gods and goddess of marriage fidelity, and spun the queen a tale of half-truths: Aphrodite told her of how Polyphonte had run away from her husband-to-be, leaving Aphroidoros without a wife for company, yet had willingly given herself to the stranger Autoskotos. She told the queen of the gods of how the strange man with the bearing of a god had appeared so suddenly in such a secluded part of the forest, and how the girl had so easily given herself to him, and how this same handsome man had disappeared soon after, not to be seen by mortals, leaving out her own part in the tale. Hera, knowing of her husband’s infidelity, was ever suspicious of tales of men appearing and seducing young women. She looked down from Olympus, she saw Polyphonte on the ship as it docked at Korinthos. And in her belly was undeniable proof of Aphrodite’s story. Aphrodite, of course, knew of Zeus’ infidelity with the princess of Argos, Io, just a short time before. She had sent her son Eros to ensure Zeus was away from Olympus for a time, after all. And she knew that Hera knew of Zeus’ infidelity with the mortal. The heavens shook as never before when Hera discovered her own husband with Io the cow. Now burning with rage, Hera stood from her throne and cast a curse down on Polyphonte. Hera cursed the mortal that she would not bear children until she had suffered the pain of childbirth nine-fold; she cursed the mortal so that she would have no relief till she had paid the price for seducing the husband of the queen of the gods. Aphrodite then went to Eileithyia, the first midwife and goddess who aids mothers in childbirth. With a simple lie, Aphrodite convinced the midwife to speed the pregnancy along and bring the children to bear in a week. By the time the ship docked in the north, Polyphonte was in the throes of the shortest pregnancy known to god or man. After a week-long pregnancy culminating Hera’s nine-fold period of labor, amounting to three full days of blinding pain and extreme weakness, Aphrodite was finally satisfied in her revenge, and Polyphonte finally gave birth to twin boys, whom she would name Agrius and Orius.
The twins were strange: Agrius was dark, save for a small patch of pale skin bridging his nose, and his eyes were black as Nyx’s shadowy cloak, while Orius was paler, his skin a golden brown, and his eyes the color of a sunrise after a bloody battle. Neither drank any milk, nor ate fruits nor plants of any sort, nor any fish nor fowl. With effort, Polyphonte could get them to eat meat, but only raw game from the forest. Soon, however, they began growing weak, and Polyphonte could find no cure, for Agrius and Orius continued to refuse the food their mother and grandfather provided. Months would pass before Polyphonte would find the solution to her problem. Her father, in order to afford her privacy, had his servants carve a small cave-house into the foothills to the north of Olynthos along the river, clearing the forest in the area to keep the animals at bay. Polyphonte provided for herself and her children with herbs and mushrooms she gathered, supplemented by food brought to her by her father’s servants and the occasional game she was able to catch in snares set along the path through the brush up to her cave, taking a bitter satisfaction in knowing that she was defying the goddess who had driven her out in a small way, if nothing else. Polyphonte settled into a routine and began caring for her new children, doing anything she could to find food they would eat. The Fates, however, had one last plan in store for the young woman.
Rumors had been circulating round the palace-town about what had unfolded while Polyphonte was gone, and so one day, jealous Aphroidoros followed one of the servants as she went up the mountain to deliver food, hiding behind a tree when he caught sight of the cave-house until the servant left.
Knowing she was alone, Aphroidoros burst in to Polyphonte’s home, dashing the door to the floor. Entering the home, he cried “Polyphonte, I demand an answer: are the rumors true? Did you run away from me to be with another man?!”
Polyphonte jumped to her feat, pulling a bow from the wall in a swift motion. Seeing who it was, she did not lower her weapon, but demanded “Aphroidoros! Leave my house! You were not asked in, and now you’ll wake my children. Leave at once!”
“I will leave when I have my answers, Polyphonte,” he said. “You admit you had children, so I take it that the rumors are true.” He turned away from her for a second, looking around the single room of the house. His face softened. “Please, my love, I missed you so terribly, won’t you marry me, as once we agreed. I promise I will care for you and your children as if they were mine. You will grow to love me, and may move into my house instead of living in this place.” He moved in to kiss her.
Polyphonte pushed him away, knowing that she did not wish to be with him anymore; she still had fond memories of the time they’d spent as teenagers, but she had grown in her time away, and it was clear he had not changed at all in the same time. She no longer felt safe with him.
“Leave my home now, Aphroidoros” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, planting her feet firmly and notching an arrow.
Dejected but seeming to accept, Aphroidoros walked to the entrance of the cave. Stepping out, he grabbed the axe that the family servant used to gather firewood. Twisting around, Aphroidoros dashed at Polyphonte, axe high overhead. Before he could take more than a few steps, an arrow flew across the room and buried itself in his heart, killing him instantly.
Knowing that even her father could not protect her if Aphroidoros’ family sought vengeance, Polyphonte picked up the axe from his limp hand and began carving the body, as she had so many animals before, for the first time thankful for the cave that had become her home. The servants visited only once a week, so no one would bother her up there, and she could leave the body for the animals if she could carry it down away from the cave entrance. The pool of blood could be washed out the door, it would not stain the hard stone floor. No one would ever know. First would be the head: should it be found, it would bring questions, and so it would need be hidden far away. The other body parts would bring questions, but ones that would be easier to answer. Polyphonte departed the cave with the head and took off across the hills to the northwest, where it could be put down to wild animals if it was ever discovered. The commotion had awoken Agrius and Orius, and the twins crawled from their beds to the body on the floor. Being half-human and half bear, the twins had no natural place in the world, and it was for this reason that they refused food fit for humans, preferring the other human food. By the time Polyphonte returned to the cave, Agrius and Orius had eaten what remained of the body, and sat on the floor, licking the blood from their fingers. Shocked, Polyphonte rushed to her sons to pick them up and wash them in the stream that flowed by the cave entrance. As she cleaned them, a thought struck her: Orius and Agrius had never eaten more than a few bites of anything she’d tried to provide them with, yet they had eaten Aphroidoros down to his bones. And now they were happy and full, burbling quietly as she washed them in the stream. It had been so easy to kill Aphroidoros, no harder than any of the animals she’d hunted in the south, and there were always bandits along the roads. More people no one would miss, she reasoned. And none save her father or his servants knew of the hidden entrance to the path where it departed from the road.
Polyphonte set her traps along the road; blinds and tripwires that could be dismantled quickly were built among the hills to the north of the sea. Small pits were dug behind the piles of stones that were used to mark the road, and animal skin laid in the bottom to make quick work of bodies. There were few trees in the lower hillside, and thus few dangerous animals to attack her, yet the area was wild enough that deaths would be put down to bear and bandit attacks, so long as she remained hidden, and didn’t hunt too often. On their new diet, Orius and Agrius grew rapidly, and soon were of immense size and strength, even capable of joining in their mother’s hunts and hauling those who passed through their valley back to their cave to eat.
In short order, the boys grew not only large, but monstrous as well, honoring neither man nor god, though the gods took notice of the monster children. Zeus, king of the gods, looked down from Olympus, and saw what was occurring, and disgust filled his heart. By this time, Polyphonte had taken to luring wild tribesmen who would pass through the town to trade, offering them shelter and to share her bed for the night, leading her new guests to her sons to be killed and devoured. Zeus, enraged by the violation of the laws of hospitality, sent Ares and Hermes to punish the woman and her children for their crimes. Hermes was not a violent god, and had no wish to grapple with Polyphonte, but Ares, being unaware of the identity of the woman he was to kill, was eager to see this bloody competition. Therefore, both posed as travelers, and while Ares prepared for battle outside of the palace town Hermes entered and made inquiries about Polyphonte, knowing rumors would make their way back to her. Hermes remained a week in the town saturating the people with questions, and then left, dropping heavy hints as to his destination. Polyphonte did exactly as the god expected, emerging from behind one of the piles of stones with Orius and Agrius when Hermes was but a few hours from the palace-town. Emerging from the hillside, Ares drew his crimson spear, arm drawn back to strike his granddaughter through the heart. Recognizing her, he paused, but Hermes wasted no time, and struck at Polyphonte with his staff with the intent to kill. She would have died that day, had Ares not recovered from his shock in the instant that Hermes struck, knocking the staff aside and hurling Hermes to the top of the mountain. He then turned and struck Polyphonte and her sons unconscious so they might not interfere nor flee. When Hermes returned seconds later, Ares, having learned of events from his tryst with Aphrodite, kept the messenger from delivering his deadly message, and made him to understand what had transpired and how Aphrodite had driven the events to unfold. Ares knew that Zeus Xenios would not forgive Polyphonte’s murder of her guests, but he might accept an alternative punishment. With Hermes’ help, the god of war would transform Polyphonte and her sons, turning them into monstrous birds which would herald war and strange sicknesses for mankind, birds which would come to be known as the striges. Even together though, the god’s power was not sufficient to slate the demigod’s appetites, and in the years that were to follow, stories would emerge from those same valleys, stories of large birds with eerie cries and blood dripping from their beaks, who flew like ghosts in the twilight, and would sleep the day away hanging upside-down from branches like bats. Stories emerged from the south of shadows of women and large, shaggy men stalking travelers in the evening, only to resolve themselves into a pair of orange eyes, staring out of the darkness. In time, the stories spread across the seas: even ten centuries later, hunters would return to their wives, only to find their infant children dead in their cribs, with not a drop of blood left in their veins.
Those stories have faded with the passing millennia, though whether this be because Polyphonte and her children finally met a brutal end or because they simply learned at long last to hide the evidence of their deeds is not known even now. So dear reader, should you ever find yourself alone at night, keep an eye out for nighttime visitors, or you just may be paid a visit by Polyphonte or her ever-growing brood, and join the list of those who have proved her name prophetic.
