Vulcan’s Table
Phoebus and Vulcan, those gods who rule the flames, sat idling at a golden table wrought with silver designs depicting the first cloud. The significance of this table lies in a past event that involved them both and that they both held dear.
Vermaera and Andalmicus
When the green-eyed nymph, Vermaera, was in her youth, she fell completely in love with a beautiful lad, Andalmicus, when he was out hunting in her woods. She had half a mind to run to him and profess her love, but upon further contemplation she decided to ask her father for his help.
“Dear father, you give a home to fish and water to the beasts of the forest. How lowly they are compared to me, a nymph! And if my nymph-hood does not convince you -- if you need more reason to do as I ask -- I am also your daughter, whom, if you love as you profess you do, you will help. Otherwise, surely I will die, or come as close as a nymph can to death!”
To make her speech more convincing, she threw herself on the grassy ground, letting her head hang above her father and her tears mingle with his water. “This I ask of you, father, whom I love dearly: that the man who hunts with his dogs and his bow, so close to where you rule, be joined to me forever!”
For long moments there was no response, until her father replied, “I am scared of losing you, dearest of my daughters, to this other man. But your happiness is important, and something I will try to grant.”
He fell silent again, and his waters slowed as he thought.
“Bring him here, and perhaps we can both have our wish.”
Giddy with excitement, Vermaera kissed the water and sped off to find Andalmicus. She summoned her doe, the swiftest creature the forest had ever known, swifter than any deer or even any bird. She told this doe to lure the man to the river; then she found some herbs fond of Hekate and bade the birds use them on the dogs.
Her orders were carried out; the dogs all fell dead, or were turned into rabbits or mice, but no living dog remained to chase her doe. Andalmicus raced after the doe, taking no notice of his canine friends, and occasionally loosing an arrow. These the doe would dodge, and afterwards she’d stick out her tongue! The man thought it to be happenstance, until the second time, when she also shook her rump at him!
They ran, and Vermaera watched, thinking joyfully that this swift-footed lad would soon be hers!
The doe reached the river and pranced right over it and onto the other side, and the man ceased the chase. He was about to turn to leave, seeing his game get away, when the river god cried, “Push him in!”
Vermaera darted from her place in hiding and shoved the man, who fell into the pond rather ungracefully. Her father instructed, “Jump in, my beloved daughter, and you will e joined to this man.”
She pushed her lovely locks away from her face and bounded in after her dearest. No sooner had she hit the water than both she and Andalmicus turned to water.
The Angering of Aurora
Thus joined, the three of them flowed through the river happily together for some time. They’d flow around, or they’d retreat to a cave to rest, and the river god gave his daughter time alone with her new lover. He also gave the other nymphs orders not to bring his son-in-law or daughter to the sky, being water, when they made their trips to spread the water over the earth, trips of which they are now relieved, since the water goes freely.
The happy trio would have noticed strange things, had they not been blinded by their joy, like all the fish that became very bird-like, jumping out of the water and gliding in the air before plunging back in! These travelled out to sea, where they flourished due in part to the great space for flying. If Vermaera had noticed, she would have remembered that she’d forgotten something in her pockets when she jumped in: Hekate’s herbs!
She didn’t notice, and she didn’t remember. But one day a priestess of Aurora came to the river and plunged her feet in the soothing water. Immediately, they began to change; from pale to red, from bony to squishy. They elongated and multiplied, forming little rings for grasping, because at first she could not grasp what was happening. Only then did Vermaera remember her mistake.
The priestess saw her disgusting feet -- which were now tentacles -- and unbound her hair. Beating her breast, she cried to Aurora, “ My goddess, whom I hold dear and who holds me dear, as well, avenge me!” and, not caring to stay a woman with such a dreadful foundation, dove into the water head first, shouting, “Woe is me!” As she entered, her transformation completing, she became the first octopus.
Aurora, after loosing one of her few worshippers, was enraged. Fury and Anger, Revenge and Hate all inspired her plot, and she approved, thinking it a fitting punishment, for Rumor told her who brought the herbs -- but left out it being due to forgetfulness, love and excitement rather than malice.
“Since you took away one special to me, hate-filled oaf, I will take away the one you hold dearest,” and so she did. She stole Andalmicus out of the river, out of the protective embrace of the shocked Vermaera, and bore him off to the sky. She changed the poor boy, leaving only his grey color, and placed him with the other colors of the sky.
Favors asked of Gods
Vermaera sunk to the bottom of the river -- so heavy was her heart -- and sobbed, “Father, do something!”
Her father, unable to endure the sight of his daughter so distraught, pleaded to heaven, “Gods above, do you see how my daughter’s been wronged? Love caused the altering calamity; not any foul motive, but love! And now her lover’s gone, and she’s more discomposed than I’ve ever seen her! Is there nothing you can do?”
At this, the sun grew brighter, which he took as a sign. “Phoebus!” he shouted, “Phoebus, great sun! I see you answering me, saying you have heard my pleas, or that you have pity, or both! Come to my aid! Help a poor father; cure a broken heart!”
The Delphic god heard this and pulled his flaming chariot closer to earth, forcing his steeds to cool, so as to prevent a great calamity.
While he did this, Venus, who had listened to the whole speech and (having nothing else to do), wept to her lover: the god who wields the hammer.
“If you truly love me,” and here she batted her pretty lashes, “then show your love for me and your compassion for passion: my art. Help this nymph, who suffers from the same affliction that has caused me so much pain!”
She fell to his ankles and wept. Moved by this display, Vulcan agreed to let her drive him in her dove-driven chariot down to the realm of soil.
When the two who rule the flame -- and the goddess claimed by another kind of flame -- were present, the river took the shape of a man.
“If you can reunite them, I’ll be forever in debt to you. Heal her broken heart, and take whatever you want from me!”
Venus quickly made a statement, and Vulcan wished she hadn’t. “He’ll do it for free! To ease this girl’s pain is the only reward he seeks.” She put her finger to her eyes, as if to wipe away a nonexistent tear.
Vulcan grumbled that he’d help and ask nothing in return, seeing that Venus was set on it being an act of charity. Phoebus, however, was not bound to Venus’s whims, and was not quite as afraid of her as Vulcan was. Feeling sorry for Vulcan, he decided on something to bring them both honor.
“I will do what I can, but you must promise that you will never let your waters put out any of our fires. Have your water yield to our fire, and your daughter will have her lover.”
The river god agreed -- to the annoyance of the people of nearby cities, who must build homes from mud now -- and today this is the site of the sea deities’ forges, for they can use fire in these waters, and they praise Apollo and Vulcan for it.
The First Cloud
Vulcan turned Vermaera into air, and Phoebus formed with that air the first cloud. For a time she mingles with her beloved, then cries as she falls back down to the earth to perform her nymphly duties. When the clouds are a bright white, or none are in the sky, she is with her father and her trees, but when they are greyest, this is Vermaera and Andalmicus merging again for a brief and happy time.
