Second Month of Low Water, day two.

Entry by First Mate Aperel. This is the first of what I suspect will be many entries on Captain Aneski’s behalf, for spousal dedication has become his priority over ship and crew. Though undoubtedly documented in the Captain’s logs, it bears repeating that our cargo ship, the Anuket, ported to Arcadia nine months ago, the First Month of the Flood, day ten. We quickly accomplished our mission of trading papyrus and grain for timber and wine with the Greeks, but our return journey was delayed after the disappearance of the captain’s wife, Satiah. After several weeks of fruitlessly searching the highland forest of Arcadia, Captain Aneski permitted most of the crew to return to Egypt aboard Greek ships. Remaining behind were essential personnel who would continue the pursuit and eventually get our ship home. It took nine months to find Satiah – Captain Aneski returned with her this evening, and the Anuket set sail for Alexandria. The crew is in good spirits, but our captain is sombre despite recovering his wife. Under this grim shadow, he approached me in the rocking night and led me back to his quarters.

“I ask for your discretion,” he said, pausing at the door. “Satiah’s story demands telling, but I fear I am unsuitable to keep record.”

Inside the candlelit cabin was Satiah. She sat on the floor in one of the captain’s robes, holding her stomach while breathing through pursed lips. To my surprise, she was pregnant and near labour. Her black hair, once long and silky, was knotted and frayed. The jovial eyes that stole the hearts of young men were distant and guarded. She also appeared to be in considerable pain.

Captain Aneski asked if he should fetch the Healer, but Satiah shook her head.

“Please, then,” he implored. “Tell me everything.”

Satiah held up a finger, silently asking for time. When her breathing settled, she spoke. The following are Satiah’s words:

It was the oak trees that drew me to the forest. They appeared a soft, velvety green from the ship, like a delicate fabric that needed touching. But up close, they were frightful things. The leaves were broad and pointed, the trunks twisted and sharp, each tree appearing like a bony contortionist holding up a deadly green fan.

Ra knows I only took one step into the woods, but when I spun around, I couldn’t see our ship and those who unloaded it. I tried to retrace my path but soon became disoriented. The north became south, the sea became inaudible, and my mind went numb. I shouted for aid, but no one responded. I was lost.

I spent the day in a panic, but as the sun entered the underworld, my ears perceived a divine sound. Deep within the trees, the intoxicating melody of a woodwind floated through the air, lifting my spirit to unfathomable heights. Simple yet filled with mirth, the enchanting song beckoned and called my name—called me home.

I forgot everything when I heard the piper’s tune. The ship, our country, my family… all vanished from memory. In fact, I didn’t exist until that very moment. That’s how it felt to be under His spell. Before, I was like a hiveless bee who had lost the sun. It was a melancholy existence without meaning. But after a lifetime of aimless bumbling, I found my place in the world. My hive was not in Egypt, as expected, but Arcadia, Greece.

The woodwind’s notes grew louder with each step and plateaued as I reached a thick circle of pine trees of staggering height. Compelled onward, I parted the branches and stepped into a circular clearing where the music was pure and bright. Inside, a dark figure knelt before a fire at the centre. I had already started towards them when something small and heavy bumped my foot. When I glanced downward, a badger was dancing upright like a human. I thought it was a trick of the light, but I knew it to be true after a second take. The critter was dancing! And all around, other creatures partook in the celebration. Frogs jumped about, squirrels darted through the grass in intricate patterns, and rabbits hopped and kicked in unison. It was mesmerizing. And the next thing I knew, I, too, was dancing, twirling and frolicking about like a child who had eaten too many sweets.

It wasn’t long after that the music stopped. Saddened, I turned toward the fire and saw the shadowy musician staring at me with broad, reflective eyes.

“Greetings,” I shouted. “I hope I’m not intruding. The music—your music—is wonderful.”

After a momentary pause, the musician nodded, then resumed their tune without a word.

The animals fell back into rhythm, but not I. Instead, I approached this dark figure to witness their face. To kneel before them and offer thanks for their beautiful serenade.

“My name is Satiah,” I said.

The music stopped again.

As I neared the fire, my eyes slowly adjusted to the orange light, and I witnessed the musician in all His glory. Unlike anything I had seen before, He had a head of thick brown locks with curls like ribbons. From this hair sprouted two pointed ears and the horns of a goat. Below His modest nose and full beard, a trail of hair led down His chest and through the navel, connecting to a blanket of dusty fur that covered His lower body. Where there should’ve been feet, there were hooves. Where there should’ve been a man was a God.

“Pan,” He rumbled, His voice like a crocodile’s bellow. “My name is Pan.”

Awestruck, I knelt on the grass and flattened my dress. “Your music brought here,” I said, noticing that Pan smelled of hyacinth and cracked juniper.

“You must be lost. Are you hungry?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then be at ease and listen as I play the story of Icarus.”

Pan raised his flute, which was a series of pipes that gradually increased in length around His face, and began a hypnotic tune that brought visions of a vast labyrinth, the slaying of the bull-headed Minotaur, and a man flying above the sea with feathered wings. My senses dulled as the story progressed, and before long, I was lying on the ground, sinking into the earth more with each breath. My muscles relaxed, my eyelids grew heavy, and as the winged man from my visions fell from the sky and plunged into the sea, I fell asleep. 

When I awoke, the birds were singing, the sky was blue, and I was in Pan’s arms.

“Do you love me?” I asked, pulling a leaf from His fur and dropping it on our mossy bed.

“Perhaps,” He said, “but why speak of it with imperfect words?”

Pan retrieved his flute and commenced a cheerful tune, revealing His love for me through song. I brushed off my clothing and resumed the dance from the night before, but this time, it was more of a swaying contemplation than a frolic. I mentioned how I treasured Pan’s music and He blushed. Complimenting the God’s skill as a musician was the only thing that could arouse His pride.

The morning light dazzled the eye, turning my blue dress into a deep, textureless void of brilliant white. As I slowly spun, I fancied myself a blooming flower, ready to receive the forest’s pollinators. It was a lovely song to dance to, but soon, the music faded and vanished altogether. When I looked, Pan was walking through the treeline into the distant forest.

“Wait,” I shouted, but my cry was unheard. 

I rushed to follow, but when I reached the thicket, it occurred that I should remain behind—stay where it was safe and wait for Pan’s return. Besides, it felt wrong to go further uninvited. Pan had private matters to attend to, and it wasn’t my place to say when and where He needed me.

And that’s how our days went from there on. The sun would rise, Pan would leave, and we would reunite in the evening. What Pan did on those outings, I didn’t know, but there was never any concern about abandonment after that first morning. I was bearing His child, after all.

***

Second Month of Low Water, day three, midnight.

Entry by First Mate Aperel. Satiah’s account abruptly ended as she fell into tears. This, she explained, was because she didn’t know who the baby’s father was. While she had relations with Pan during her nine-month absence, Satiah also had relations with Captain Aneski during the voyage from Egypt to Greece, including the night before she vanished. Satiah became hysterical, and I was directed to leave. After a private conversation between husband and wife, Captain Aneski brought me back into the cabin to resume documenting.

The following are Satiah’s words:

The first time I sensed something was wrong, that is to say, when a light was cast on my forgotten life, came many months later.

A disruptive crack woke me one night. I peered into the darkness to find a shadow moving across the distant clearing. I should have been worried, but even Achilles, the bravest Greek warrior, wouldn’t enter Pan’s domain unannounced. So, it had to be one of the animals of His kingdom. But why disturb our peace while Pan was sleeping? All creatures knew not to wake their master without fair reason. Then, I thought, what if the animal was injured?

I rolled out of Pan’s embrace and approached the shadow slowly so as not to scare the poor thing. But despite my effort, it startled and ducked behind a shrub as I passed the dying fire.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Let me see you.”

When I pulled back the leaves, the shadow beyond lengthened from a boulder to a tree. But instead of branches, there were arms and legs. Instead of bark, a sinister face.

“There you are,” it whispered.

“Pan,” I whimpered, unable to raise my voice.

“Quiet,” hissed the shadow, leaping over the bush and walking after me. “You’ll wake the God. We need to return to the Anuket and set sail immediately. We’ve been searching for you for nearly nine months!”

I stumbled backwards, but in evading the man’s advances, I fell and hit my head on the ground.

Suddenly, I found my voice. “Pan!” I screamed. “Pan!”

The sound of heavy hooves advanced, followed by a deafening shout that sent the intruder fleeing into the forest.

Pan stopped at my side, abandoning His chase to help me from the ground.

“He is most fortunate,” He said, assisting me to my feet. “If your health wasn’t in doubt, I would have brought him down. Are you alright, my love? I can still catch him.”

I told Him I was shaken but alright, and Pan separated.

“Very well,” He said.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing Pan’s arm. “Please don’t go.”

“Then you are injured?”

“Yes — no. I mean, I don’t know,” I admitted. “Just please don’t leave me alone. I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“This is my home,” Pan snorted with rage. “When did the likes of men become so bold?”

I released my love so He could pace freely. His hooves dug into the earth, flinging clumps of dirt as He went. I considered requesting a song to calm our nerves, but I feared that a song made in distress would only cause more grief.

“It isn’t right,” He continued. “No one threatens what is mine. No one. If that beast returns, his crimes will be paid in blood.”

I lay awake that night thinking about the strange things the intruder said. Where and what was the Anuket? And why had the intruder been searching for me for nine months? In fact, he said “we’ve” been searching, which was even more worrisome. How many others did I need to fear?

Pan left the following day as usual. I begged Him to stay, but there were duties to tend to. ‘Nymphs to chase,’ He jested. Only now do I see that He was telling the truth.

I was reassured that everything would be fine in His absence. All Greeks knew of Pan’s strength. And if He struck fear into the Titans, imagine what He could do to a mortal.

“The intruder would be foolish to return,” said Pan. “Very foolish indeed.”

Unfortunately, His words did nothing to calm me, and I was left nervous and alone. That day was difficult. A rustle in the thicket raised my heart. Each tree hollow kept the intruder’s shady face within. Every noise, near or far, encouraged me to run. But no matter how fearful I was, I would never leave. I would rather die than abandon my love.

After a fretful moment when I believed a fallen tree was a crawling devil, I decided to busy myself with basket weaving. I pulled some tall grasses, sat on a boulder, and set my mind to the task. All was well, I told myself. It wasn’t. Shortly after, I heard the sound of crunching leaves behind me. Then, a narrow, ominous shadow extended across the glade. And with that shadow came a voice.

“Satiah,” it whispered.

I didn’t have to look to ratify my fears. The intruder had returned – this time, in broad daylight. But his voice was different. And as far as I could tell, it was a different man altogether. 

“What do you want?” I asked without facing my stalker. “You don’t belong here.”

“Nor do you.”

“This is my home,” I replied spitefully. “Where else would I belong?”

“With your people. With me.”

He whispered my name again and begged me to follow him to the sea.

Finally, I turned to confront the intruder, who stood an arm’s length away. Not much older than I, he wore strange robes, had dark skin, and appeared concerned. His face was gentle, kind, and vaguely familiar. He offered me his hand, which I swatted away in revulsion.

“And what,” I said, “be your muse?”

The slap couldn’t have hurt, but the intruder looked deeply betrayed.

“You’re with child,” he said, mouth agape.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Of course, it’s my concern!” he shouted. “How is it not? Satiah, please, you must listen to me—”

“You must think me a fool,” I said at my wit’s end.

“A fool, no. A victim of enchantment, yes.”

“A victim of love,” I corrected. “Something you know nothing about.”

“I know more about love than you could ever imagine,” he said sadly.

Again, something about this man’s face struck me as familiar. I had seen him before. I was all but certain. But when had we met? In a dream? I shook my head to dismiss these troubling thoughts. Then, suddenly, I had a vision of a colourful home with two children who ran around a table. Seated across from me was the intruder, who passed me a bowl of figs.

I threw aside my unfinished basket in anger. Pan had shared many stories of Godly deception during our time together. Rhea swaddled a rock and fooled Cronos into eating it. Prometheus tricked Zeus into accepting bones and fat for sacrifice instead of meat. The list was endless. Greece was full of tricksters, and this intruder was no different. Luckily, I saw through his deceitfulness.

“You will leave now,” I commanded, standing defiantly. “I won’t listen to your lies another moment.”

“I see now that there is only one solution,” said the intruder, crestfallen. “I will take my leave, but know this: I will return for you, Satiah.”

And so he left.

I spent the following hours in turmoil. Where was Pan and why hadn’t He returned yet? It was growing dark. What if He was hurt or worse? My mind spun in this unproductive way until I smelled the familiar musk that always preceded Pan’s return. 

“Pan,” I shouted, crying as I fell into His arms. “He came back. The intruder, he returned.”

“What?” Pan hollered, awash with anger. “Impossible. No Greek would be so foolish.”

“So you promised me, but he returned.”

“Do you think he will come again?”

“You already said he wouldn’t!”

Pan’s eyes flared as His lips curled into a snarl. “This fiend is pulling us apart,” He growled. “Tomorrow, by the light of day, I will hunt him down and free us from this nightmare.”

And so followed another sleepless night. My trust in Pan had faltered, and no consoling or music would ease my mind.

“There is nothing to fear,” He said. “I will protect you. Besides, I have instructed my subjects to patrol these woods. We will be warned long before anyone reaches us.”

Unaffected by the recent events, Pan drifted into sleep.

Later, I heard feet pattering in the thick of the night. Too nimble to be human, these steps grew louder until a pine martin ran through the clearing and slid into Pan. 

Pan, ordinarily slow to stir, sprang to life. “Show the way,” He instructed.

The martin set off, followed by Pan, then myself. Outside the clearing, a single flaming torch bobbed through the air like a spectre. Below was a man wearing black robes.

Taking refuge behind some oak trees, Pan raised a finger to his lips and motioned that I stay put. Of course, I wanted to obey, but something awakened inside me, and the visions I had previously returned with overwhelming clarity. A colourful home with children running around the table where I sat. The intruder passed me a bowl of figs. His face was warm and welcoming. He was smiling.

All at once, I needed to see the intruder. To look at him as one would an eclipse, with fear and curiosity. But when I peeked out from hiding, I saw that it wasn’t he who approached, but someone else entirely.

“That’s not him,” I said, disappointed.

“You’re sure it’s not?” asked Pan. “They smell the same.”

I then realized that Pan had never seen the intruder before. The first encounter was at night, and the second was when I was alone. I explained the differences between the two men, emphasizing that this traveller was boyish by comparison.

Pan looked through some branches and salivated like a wolf over a fallen deer. There was no mistaking it. He was full of want for the traveller.

“Pleasant night, young stranger,” Pan said merrily, stepping out from hiding. “You must be lost. Are you hungry?”

My shoulders tightened. Pan had said the same words to me when we met.

The traveller walked straight toward us. “I believe I am found,” he said with a soft and innocent voice. “Are you the Great God Pan?”

“I am.”

“I come to you, Great Pan, to beg your favour. I have dedicated myself to the study of music but have outgrown my instructors. Please, take me as your pupil, for I have no higher wish than to become your apprentice.”

“Very good,” Pan said sensually. “But tell me, why not seek Apollo if you require a master?”

“Because I want to learn from the true master of composition,” said the traveller. “Apollo’s lyre trembles in the presence of Pan’s syrinx.”

Pan laughed from deep within His belly. “Very good. And which instrument, may I ask, have you dedicated yourself to?”

“The reed flute.”

“Is that so?” asked Pan as the two came face to face.

The traveller reached into his robe and removed the instrument in question. In doing so, he exposed a smooth, hairless chest that Pan smiled upon.

“It is,” the traveller smirked playfully. “Perhaps you could give a demonstration so I may be inspired for now and forever?”

“Of course, my lovely one.”

I held my breath as Pan took the flute and examined it. If He played but one note, I knew I would lose Him.

“Before you begin,” the traveller interrupted. “May I hold my torch near your hands to study your technique?”

“If you wish.”

The traveller lifted his torch, illuminating Pan against the dark forest. Then, Pan raised the flute to His lips, but before He could play, an arrow sank deep in his chest. I yelped with surprise and reached for my love, but it was too late. Pan was dead before he hit the ground.

All at once, I felt like a goshawk that had its hood removed and could see clearly. I considered myself and my surroundings. The forest had lost its charm. Flowers that glowed and swayed to Pan’s music were limp and vigourless. The dress I wore wasn’t a luminous white but a dull blue. The hems were frayed and the seams were torn. For nine months, I had been a slave to His magic. But whatever spell I was under died with Pan.

“Satiah,” came a familiar voice from the oaks.

I looked at the young musician, whose brow furrowed apologetically. He stepped aside, and the intruder came out of hiding with an archer’s bow.

I gasped. The intruder wasn’t a villain as I had thought. He was my love that was honest and true; Captain Khalid Aneski.

“Khalid?” I peeped.

The intruder’s walk turned into a sprint. “You remember,” he said tearfully.

“Of course, I remember,” I cried as we embraced. “I don’t know how I ever forgot.”

***

Second Month of Low Water, day three, midnight continued.

Entry by First Mate Aperel. Satiah appeared distant and tired by the end of her story.

“And, well, you know the rest from there,” she said from the cabin floor. And then, turning to me, she continued. “Khalid took Pan’s head as a trophy. It’s in the corner.” Satiah pointed at a sack I hadn’t noticed before. It was saturated with blood and smelled of hyacinth and cracked juniper, now that I considered it. “I watched the procedure with indifference,” she continued, “questioning how I ever loved the God in the first place. Pan, who was handsome in life, became a hideous beast in death. Which was a shame — for all of His ugliness, He created the most beautiful music.”

Captain Aneski knelt before his love. “That’s the truth about Pan,” he said softly. “He was so vile that he needed Godly magic to enchant you. He never would have had you otherwise. What happened since we parted, Satiah, is not your fault.”

Captain Aneski took Satiah’s hand, and with a kiss, I witnessed the forgiveness of a husband for a wife who committed no crime. I thought the colour would return to Satiah’s cheeks, but her face went pale, and her knees began to shake.

“It’s coming,” she hissed, grabbing her bulging stomach.

Satiah’s labour had begun.

I dashed to assist, but Captain Aneski stopped me.

“Fetch the Healer,” he said uneasily.

I paused before carrying out the order. My first concern—naturally—was for Satiah, but at that moment, I was sick with worry for Captain Aneski. The father of the baby was yet unknown, and I feared the captain would suffer irreparable damage if the child was born a demigod and not an Egyptian.

“Sir,” I said cautiously, “you understand this child may not be yours?”

Captain Aneski glared at me. “The Healer,” he spat, grabbing me by the shoulders and thrusting me out of the cabin. “Fetch the Healer, now!”

I stumbled forward and fell to my knees. From this lowly position, I looked back into the cabin and caught a glimpse of a scene so horrific that I fear I may never sleep well again. Before Captain Aneski slammed the door shut, I witnessed Satiah slouching with her legs wide. She screamed as a rush of blood spilled from her lower region, followed by a breeching foot. But it wasn’t the fleshy foot of a child. No, it was the cloven hoof of a goat.

I found the Healer, sent him into the cabin, and then waited by the mizzenmast should I be needed. I never was. From my post, I heard suffering, grief, encouragement, and—eventually—a child bleating like a goat. The Healer withdrew in shock, looking like he had just spotted a giant squid circling the hull.

I attempted to speak to him about the birth, but he refused.

“Trust me,” he choked, “you don’t want to know.”

Unfortunately, I already did.

***

Second Month of Low Water, day four.

Entry by First Mate Aperel. Nobody is permitted entrance to the captain’s quarters except the Healer, who visits regularly to supply food, water, and — I surmise — medical care. The crew are unsettled. They hear a goat bleating and a father screaming intermittently behind the closed door. Satiah sings melancholic lullabies. I maintain the ship in our captain’s absence. 

***

Second Month of Low Water, day seven.

Entry by Captain Lateef Aperel. I assumed command of the Anuket after three days of rough sailing. Aneski is no longer fit to lead. He neglected his duties and violently attacked Minmose after the crewman attempted to see inside Aneski’s quarters. Minmose is in dire condition and is unlikely to survive. The savage assault was witnessed by many and left those present with ill-fated feelings toward their captain. They acknowledge my ascension and carry out my orders readily. Aneski has barricaded himself in his cabin with his wife and newborn.

***

Second Month of Low Water, day eleven.

Entry by Captain Lateef Aperel. Four days of hasty sailing. Shall arrive at Alexandria tomorrow. Aneski’s screams have lessened. Satiah sings her lullabies. The baby, inaudible. The Healer maintains that the child is healthy. Any questions regarding its physicality are dismissed.

***

Second Month of Low Water, day twelve.

Entry by Captain Lateef Aperel. Anuket ported to Alexandria at midday. The crew is glad to be home. Ship unloaded efficiently and cheerfully.

Aneski and his family remained secluded until the sky was dark, and then they crept into the night. I thought to follow, but instinct told me to check the cabin first. I’m glad I did. For there, amongst the dirty blankets, I found the Healer, face down on the floor with a knife in his ribs. The bloody sack containing Pan’s head was gone.

Aneski must not have known that I witnessed the goat-child. If he did, I, too, would be dead. Grateful to have been spared — praise be to Ra, King of Gods — I decided not to chance fate by following Aneski and his family. I don’t expect I shall ever see them again.

I end here and keep this log in good faith, intending that none shall read it and discover the horrible truth of Aneski’s plight. It would be beyond unfortunate if anyone should, for no more than I would choose to tarnish the name of a good man and his loving wife, would I want to set in motion the fate certain to befall anyone who threatened the family of Khalid Aneski. Still, if you find yourself reading these words and desire to confirm this extraordinary tale, know this: the Gods are real, but so are mortal men cunning enough to kill them.

[Jordan Gyug is an oncology nurse, musician, and songwriter from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. His short story “Manitou” appeared in Long Con Magazine issue 8.]