Cupid had every reason to worry about meeting with Apollo. He was a god of enormous powers. His realm consisted of the arts as well as prophecy, which was why Psyche’s father was going to consult him. He was the god of healing, too, though he could also bring on plagues. Last but by no means least, he was the god of archery, which brought Cupid to the problem. Apollo hated him and, as far as Cupid was concerned, for no good reason.
Back when Cupid was still a boy, a giant serpent named Python was terrorizing everybody and everything. Apollo had killed Python with one shot from his bow and arrow. He took great pride in his feat and was not shy about re-counting it to everybody, more than once.
One afternoon Apollo was sitting on Venus’s porch, telling her how he had killed Python with a single, well-placed arrow. Having heard the story more times than she cared to remember, Venus wasn’t listening. She was trying to decide whether she wanted the peach-colored or spring green silk sheets put on her bed for the night. She had new sheets put on her bed every evening because, well, because she was Venus and the thought of sleeping on the same sheets two nights in a row was so upsetting that she almost needed to get in the hot tub to relieve the stress of such an idea.
Suddenly, she became aware that Apollo was laughing. What had happened? Apollo did not laugh, having no sense of humor that anyone had ever been able to find. Venus noticed him pointing at Cupid, who had just come onto the porch with his bow and quiver to go practice.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this cute?” Apollo laughed again. He picked up his enormous bow from the floor beside his chair. “With this bow and an arrow, I killed Python, a serpent who had been terrorizing everyone and whose girth covered many acres across the plains. Little boy, what do you think you can do with that tiny bow and those tiny arrows?” His manner turned serious. “The bow and arrow are my weapons. Find something else to amuse yourself with.”
Venus saw Cupid’s eyes narrow.
“Apollo? I think you should apologize to Cupid. He doesn’t like being made fun of,” Venus said, great concern in her voice.
Apollo looked at her scornfully. “Apologize to a child? Surely, you speak in jest.”
“Apollo. Dear. You don’t understand. I really think you should apologize. You obviously don’t know my son.”
“I’m sure he can do many wonderful things that gladden his mother’s heart, but I am Apollo. What could this child possibly do to me?”
“Oy vey,” Venus said quietly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Cupid had already strung his bow with a gold-tipped arrow. Then in a voice that was more like a man’s than a child’s, he said to Apollo, “Your bow and arrow have power over that which is without. Mine has power over that which is within.” He pulled on the bow and let the arrow go straight into Apollo’s heart. At that instant, Daphne, the beautiful nymph, daughter of Peneus the river god, came into Apollo’s view. Quickly Cupid took an arrow tipped with lead and shot it into her heart.
The eyes of Apollo and Daphne met. Love gripped Apollo like the talons of an eagle piercing the warm, quivering flesh of a rabbit. But enmity claimed Daphne’s heart. Apollo looked at her with love-filled eyes; Daphne regarded him with cold hatred. Apollo saw the revulsion on her face, but he was certain that, in time, she would come to love him as much as he loved her.
But he was wrong. The potion from Cupid’s arrow coursed through Daphne’s veins and chilled any warmth she might have felt for Apollo, or any man. The very thought of being responsible for a man’s emotions disgusted her. Why would a woman allow herself to become entangled in men’s feelings and desires? The idea of a man touching her body was repulsive. If she had thought Jupiter would take her seriously, she would have asked him to decree marriage a crime, and any man who approached a woman with even the thought of marriage would be sent into exile. But she knew that Jupiter’s love of women rendered him incapable of understanding how she felt.
Poor Daphne. Every time she looked around, there was Apollo with that pitiful look on his face men get when they fall in love. He followed her from the time she got up in the morning until she went to bed at night, and then he slept on the ground outside her bedroom window.
Apollo was probably the first stalker in history, except, back in those days, people didn’t know anything about stalking, which is why Daphne didn’t go to the police and get a restraining order against him. The only defense she had was to run as fast as she could every time she saw him staring at her like a cocker spaniel wanting to come in out of the rain.
The day came when Daphne had enough. She stepped outside her house that particular morning and there was Apollo, standing in the yard with a bunch of wildflowers he had picked himself, and a big basket of chocolates. The sight of all that chocolate was tempting. A woman will put up with a whole lot from a man if he keeps her supplied with chocolate. But as much as Daphne loved chocolate, it wasn’t enough to make her forget how much she hated feeling a man’s emotion reaching out for her like a vine seeking a tree to wrap itself around.
“Go away! Leave me alone!” she yelled at Apollo.
Instead of doing what she asked, he started reciting a love poem he had gotten Erato, the muse of literature, to write for him. Now, I know you men think women go for poetry. Some do, but a whole lot don’t. You could be reciting your poetry and the young lady will look like she’s interested, when what she’s thinking is “What’s up with the poetry, and how many other girls has he read that poem to?” However, I will tell you two things no woman can resist. Number two is cook dinner for her. Women get weak in the knees when they find out a man can cook. But number one works even better than that. If a woman knows you listen to her and take seriously what she says, she will give you her heart, body, and soul. It is obvious that Apollo was retarded when it came to listening. He kept hearing yes when she was saying no.
Daphne took off running. She was fast, but she had never run as fast as she did that morning. She was determined to get away from Apollo once and for all. She might have done so if Cupid had not been watching. He saw that Apollo was tiring and was falling farther and farther behind Daphne. So what did Cupid do? He shot another arrow into Apollo, which gave him new energy.
Daphne thought she had outrun Apollo. She stopped and looked back, expecting to see him standing in the road, trying to catch his breath. Instead he was running faster than ever, and if she didn’t do something, he was going to catch her. Daphne would rather die than become the property of a man.
She called out to her father, Peneus. “Save me, Father! Make the earth open up and swallow me, or change me into something so I can escape this danger.”
No sooner had she spoken than her body became stiff. Bark began growing on her legs, abdomen, breasts, and face, and her hair turned to leaves. Apollo reached her just as her transformation into a tree was completed.
Apollo looked at the tree and saw how graceful and beautiful it was. He put his arms around it.
“Henceforward, this shall be my tree,” he declared. “I will wear your leaves in a wreath around my head. Emperors will wear wreaths of your leaves around their heads when they parade in triumph through the streets. Because I am eternally young, so shall you be also. Your leaves will always be green and never get old and fall to the ground.”
And to this day, wreaths are made from the leaves of the laurel tree.
Since then, Cupid had made a point of staying out of Apollo’s way, even at the semiannual Gods and Goddesses Solstice Banquet and Dance, when everyone drank so much mulled nectar that even Jupiter and Juno didn’t quarrel.
Now Cupid had to go to Apollo’s palace and convince him to tell the king what Cupid wanted him to say. But Apollo couldn’t lie. Well, if Cupid had his way—and he would—this was one time Apollo was going to lie.