Everyone knows that the lyre is our Lord Apollo’s instrument, but not everyone knows how he acquired it. This is that story.
In the days of which I speak, Apollo owned a herd of fine cattle, which he pastured on the slopes of Mount Pieria. He was very proud of them, and went often to admire them. But one day he found that a dozen of his cows were missing. In astonishment and anger, Apollo set out to track the thief.
For him, of course, it was easy, even if a dozen cows had not left a clear trail. Swiftly Apollo followed them, through forests and over mountains, across rivers and broad plains. At last he came to the trail’s end, to find – no cattle, but only charred bones in the ashes of a fire. Someone had slaughtered his cows, feasted on their meat, and given the rest as an offering to the Gods. But who could have done this? Grim-faced, Apollo followed the tracks of the thief. They led him to the mouth of a cave, from which came strains of the most beautiful music the God had ever heard.
Curious now, Apollo entered the cave, and saw a remarkable sight. A small boy – little more than a baby – sat on the edge of his cot, plucking the strings of an instrument. The body of the instrument was formed of the hollow shell of a tortoise, into one end of which had been fixed two hollow reeds, connected at their upper ends by a bridge of bone. From this bridge, seven strings descended to an anchoring bridge on the shell. Quickly and deftly with his small fingers the boy was plucking these strings to produce a wonderful sound. Apollo was so interested that it was only when he noticed the blood and grease stains on the child’s hands and face that he remembered his lost cattle, and his divine wrath returned.
“So, little thief, I have found you!” he cried. “What do you think you deserve, for stealing my cows?”
The boy looked up and grinned, no whit afraid. “Why, what do you mean, Lord? How could one as small as I am steal a cow?”
“Do not lie to me, child,” said Apollo grimly. “I tracked you here. Now you will pay for my cattle with your life.”
“Can I not offer you other payment, Lord?” asked the boy, plucking a rippling string of notes on his instrument. “This toy, perhaps, which I invented today for my amusement?”
The music intrigued Apollo. “Let me try it,” he said. Taking the instrument, he sat down and began to play. Under his inspired fingers, melodies grew; song led to song. “This,” he said at last, “is worth many cows to me. I know you now, little brother Hermes, and this time I will forgive you. But next time you want meat, steal someone else’s cows!”
“I will,” said Hermes the Trickster, grinning. And that is how Apollo got his lyre.
