The Story of Paul Cooper: Book Two

Birth of a Hero

“Oh, isn’t he adorable?” squealed Aphrodite, holding the new baby boy in her arms. “What are you going to name him? I like something dramatic, something strong- but a softer side, too. And, still-”

                “That’s enough, Aphrodite,” Zeus rumbled. “He’s not your son.”

                “Thank you, Father,” Apollo sighed, taking his own son from Aphrodite, who grimaced unhappily.

                There was a moment of silence as the gods circled around Apollo and Delia, gazing at the new baby, the new god on Olympus. It wasn’t just the Olympians gathered there; the Muses, the minor gods, the Winds- everyone turned up to visit and bless the Son of Olympus with something. Even Hades and Persephone took time from the Underworld to come up to Olympus, and visit their new family member.

                “Where’s my daughter?” said another loud, booming voice. Poseidon strode into the large, circular white marble room, and grinned when he saw Delia.

                Apollo, who was holding the new baby, smiled. Without saying a word, he handed the boy over to Poseidon, who’s eyes began to glimmer.

                Hades snorted.                                                                                             

                “Well, well, brother, after all these years we finally get to see you cry?” Hades scoffed, but Demeter and Persephone glared at him, and he said nothing else.

                Poseidon tickled the child’s stomach, and grinned. The baby boy laughed, and clapped his hands. The boy’s whole body had a new, golden and unearthly glow, which was how all newborn gods and goddesses were, although they didn’t remember it.

                The only other unhappy one gathered stood in the corner of the room, leaning up against a marble pillar, arms crossed. While the other gods and immortal beings gathered around the small family, Artemis walked over to the lone god.

                “Hermes, you really should be happy. It’s been a while since there has been someone new on Olympus,” Artemis sighed. She was dressed in white, for the occasion, rare, since she customarily wore silver. Hermes tried smiling.

                “It’s  not everyday that you see your brother’s son,” Artemis urged, but Hermes waved his hand.

                “It’s not everyday that you hear a prophecy about that son, either,” Hermes said, and a dark shadow passed over his face. Both Hermes and Artemis noticed Hades smile darkly, but ignored their uncle.

                Suddenly, there was a hush, as Hera now held the baby boy. Hermes and Artemis turned to watch.

                “What shall we name this Child of Olympus?” Hera asked, smiling upon the baby, and turning to Zeus. She customarily disliked Delia, but, since Hera was the patron goddess of mothers and children, she couldn’t help but enjoy the boy.

                “Something after his father,” Zeus said, suppressing a smile as the boy laughed again.

                “I think he should be named Paris,” Aphrodite said from somewhere amidst the crowd. “I liked him, and-”

                “Enough, Aphrodite,” Poseidon said. Ares examined his shield, and smiled at his reflection.

                “Something tough, like Aphrodite said,” Ares said, without looking from his shield.               

                There was a murmur of agreement.

                “It has to be a name that is gentle, also,” Hestia said from a chair near Delia, who was resting in a sofa-type bed. “But powerful, as well.”

                “I agree with Zeus,” Athena said proudly, her silver and navy armor and toga-dress seemed to blow in a gentle wind. “A name close to his father.” Athena grinned at Apollo, who seemed to shine.

                There was another silence, as Hera studied the baby boy, who was now trying to pull on Hera’s long blonde hair. She laughed, and hugged the boy closer.

                “Paulus,” Hera said at last. “What do you think, Delia? Apollo?” Hera looked expectantly at the two other gods, and they both nodded with smiles on their faces.

                “Paulus it is, then,” Poseidon laughed. The earth seemed to shake as he did so, and soon nearly everyone present was laughing and celebrating the birth of Paulus, son of Apollo and Delia. Even Hermes laughed, and got to hold the new god himself.

                “It’s gonna be a long road, little Paul,” Hermes smiled. The boy giggled, before closing his eyes and nodding off. “If only you knew what was ahead of you.”

                One year passed, in terms of mortals. Greece and Rome were recovering from the Trojan War, still, and little Paulus grew older, and faster, than any mortal child. By the end of the first year, the boy looked almost identical to his father, yet had traces of his mother’s personality.  One day, Paulus was walking down the halls of Olympus, when he noticed that no one was around. The Muses weren’t in the main hall practicing their music, and the satyrs and nymphs weren’t gathering fruits in the outside garden, either. Eventually, little Paulus found his was into another white marble room, where everyone was gathered. He pushed his was to the front, and, after finding his grandfather, Lord Zeus, he listened.

                From what he could tell, a new person was on Olympus: Paulus looked around, and, a short distance ahead, Paulus saw his uncle, Hermes, and skipped up to him.

                “Uncle Hermes,” Paulus asked, “what’s going on?”

                Without responding, Hermes knelt down to Paulus’s eye level, and showed him what he was holding in his arms. Paulus looked in awe at the small face, the little features and body, and then examined his own.

                “This is your half-brother, little Paul,” Hermes laughed quietly, since the baby was sleeping. “Meet my son, Jacsus.”

                Just as Paulus was about to reach out and touch the new baby, Zeus came up from behind him, and put a hand on Paulus’s shoulder.

                “Since today is both little Paulus’s birthday, as well as new Jacsus, we are celebrating many things,” Zeus said, so that everyone present could hear. There was murmuring and whispers, but then Zeus said something that only Paulus could hear.

                “Nephew,” Zeus said quietly, “accept this as your first gift from your grandfather. Use it well.”

                And Zeus placed a little chain in Paulus’s hands, one with a leather strap, and a little oval-shaped token hanging from it, with a Sun and a laurel branch surrounding it, the symbol of Apollo, Paulus’s father.

                Paul pressed on the Sun, not really knowing why, and the chain and emblem turned immediately into a golden bow and quiver full of arrows. He aimed it high, at the ceiling, but did not fire. He somehow knew that the wind wasn’t good in this particular room, and did not want to waste an arrow on a pointless shot.