The Reining of the Swan

By Jegan

Arms open wide to the sun, the Priestess stood in a gown of golden silk richly laden in glimmering jewels of ruby, emerald and sapphire. Born a Princess of Elis, she was a newly avowed Priestess in the cult of Apollo, the Sun God. It was her role to inaugurate the ritualistic Reining of the Swans.

The young men of the kingdom were ready in their boats upon the river. The swiftest boat bore the standard of the young King, her brother. He sat at the helm of the boat brimming with excitement. He had always watched the race from the shore. Now it was his turn. The Priestess dropped her arms to her side. The crowds lining the shore were abuzz with cheering. The boats set off. The race was begun.

The Reining of the Swans was a ritual in honour of Apollo. The swan was sacred to the Sun God as the graceful bird who led his golden chariot through the heavens. On the longest day of the year, the young men of Elis would race to capture the swans along the River Peneus. The captured swans are marked as the property of the King and released once the sun is set and the moon has risen; its silver light glistening on the surface of the river reflected on the pure white feathers of the elegant swan floating ethereally on the water.

The King's boat was far in the lead down the river with more reined in swans than any other boat. It was then that the King saw her. The swan's white feathers were iridescent. Her neck long, thin and gracefully curved. The boat disturbed the water as it sped along towards her. The ripples brushed gently against her. A shiver coursed through her folded wing.

The young King was enchanted.

The swan took to the air following a side stream too narrow for the boat to follow. The boat banked upon the shore. The King hopped out and followed her on foot, pushing aside the fronds and brambles. The swan arced elegantly on a current of air, her wings of pure white outstretched. She landed softly by a deep azure rock pool, shed her cloak of white feathers and submerged into the hazy depths in maiden form.

The young King approached from a distance. His heart beat wildly against his chest. The swan maiden peered at him from the middle of the pool, her eyes resting just above the level of the water, her hair a golden cloud drifting just beneath the surface. Her skin was as white as the feathers of her cloak. He inched forward cautiously and snatched her cloak from the rock.

Her eyes flew wide with apprehension; twin dark pools that mirrored the azure depths below.

The King stroked the snowy cloak with strong yet gentle hands.

"I possess your feather-dress. I possess you. Come forth and be my bride."

He removed his own cloak of crimson velvet and draped the swan cloak about his shoulders. Its magic was powerless over him, an intruder to its confines. The maiden seethed insulted. He held out his cloak for her. She rose slowly from the pool: slim, white and naked. Her skin had a shimmering translucent quality, the soft newness of a young babe. Her dark eyes glimmered with emotion searing beneath the surface.

He covered her in crimson velvet and escorted her back to the boat. She sat by him at the helm serene and austere. All who beheld her were mesmerized by the spell of her ethereal beauty, but none so much as the King whose gaze remained transfixed upon her.

The Priestess' heart faltered as she saw her brother's boat return. The King in his pure white feathered cloak and the maiden in her crushed crimson velvet. She felt the suns rays' burn down upon her face. It was a bad omen.

The swan maiden was taken away by servants and slaves to prepare for the wedding. The King marched straight to his chambers. There he removed the feather cloak and locked it away in a large cedar chest.

By the light of the silvery moon that night the couple was wed. Hand in hand they vowed to the Gods the sanctity of their union. The ceremony concluded with the release of the Kings swans back into Elis. As the swan maiden, now Queen of Elis, watched her sisters fly away, a crystal tear beaded in the corner of her eye and slid down her soft cheek.

The King took her pale delicate hand in his and led her to his bed chamber. He kissed her cheek, her chin her lips. He removed her white wedding gown and let it fall to the floor. She was naked, but she hardly noticed. Without her feather dress she had felt naked, bare and vulnerable always. He took her to the bed and made love to her. The white sheets were crushed and crimson.

Long after the King had fallen asleep, his Queen lay shivering in the cold night air gazing yearningly out the window to the silvery moon. The tears slid freely down her cheeks.

Before the sun rose, the door to the chamber was quietly eased open. The Priestess crept inside cradling the feather dress in her arms. She approached the bed and proffered the snowy gown to the swan maiden.

"Take it and with it your freedom. You were not meant to live like this."

Gratefully the swan maiden slipped out of the bed and into her gown. She folded herself deep into its feathery depths and transformed to swan once more. The pure white feathers were white no more and crimson stained. The swan flew out the window into the light of the silvery moon.

She was free, but cursed for ever more for breaking the sacred vows of her marriage. Though her sisters transformed freely from swan to maiden and enjoyed the pleasure of the water against feather and flesh, the cursed swan maiden remained forever a crimson stained swan.

Years later her song of death resounded achingly throughout the kingdom of Elis. It roused the King of Elis from slumber. It told all who listened of the sorrow of her life, the magnitude of her suffering, and the hour of her death. Her final note pierced the soul of the King and as Apollo in his swan drawn chariot raised the sun into the heavens for the dawning of a new day, the King breathed his very last.