Concordia
It was another day that the sun hadn’t shined upon Sicily. The sounds of battle and war was upon the near and far horizons. Sicily, the home to three of city states, these three being unique in the way that they fought. They fought with one of the most savage tools that they had mastered over many generations of constant war with one another. Instrumenta musica. The only way these barbaric states knew how to use these was for war. War was all they knew. They used them for only the fiercest battles an each state had developed their own variation of instrumenta. One forging theirs under the hammer of Vulcan, the Orichalcum. One carving theirs with the god Pan, the Ventiligna. And the city state only binding theirs with the thickest of hides killed by the god Mars himself, the Percussiones.
These cities however, hated each other with a passion. A passion that had burned for so long that they had forgotten why they quarreled with one another. The dynasties that led these three cities had continued the violent clashes against one another, simply to prove who the best of the three was. But as of now, they hadn’t seen what they had been doing. They didn’t know what they could do with their instruments. Often pillaging and destroying towns on the outskirts of the opposing cities, many innocents lost their lives from the war. Never would they understand what true music sounds like, for in their last moments, they only heard the screams of war. But there was a hope for those who still sought out true music. A glistening light in the darkness of war that encircled the island. It was Mercury, the Wayfinder.
As the personal oracles of dynastic rulers of the three states had spoken, one day the Wayfinder would come to their home to find their horrible wars, battles, and their uncivilized way of using music. Not for joy, nor pleasure, but only for themselves. Never to share happiness, only to make them frown and flee once they had heard the sounds of Ares’ pounding war drums, the wail of Pan’s flutes, and the screams of Vulcan’s trumpets.
Mercury was sent by Apollo to investigate the strange sounds that had come of the isle of Sicily. Mercury, looking to get his daily run in, gladly accepted this request and sprinted off in his winged sandals to Sicily, straight into a maelstrom of harsh notes and loud booms. He scuttled away from the fight onto a nearby hill, covering his ears, and watched the battle unfold. Specks of crimson flew into the air, which was thick with smoke. The dead grass scattered with bits and pieces of drums, armor, and other equipment. Mercury, silently watching the men play their instruments across the field from each other in the form of columns. Men were blown apart by the notes as they pierced their cuirasses and knocked several others off their feet. The trumpeters began to scatter and rout as they saw their brothers fall before them. The earth stained scarlet, Mercury turned and returned to Apollo at Olympus.
Having heard what these barbaric people had turned music into, Apollo was enraged. He lashed out, “These peoples have not a single drop of understanding of what music is! They must prove that they are capable of creating something wondrous with what they have! Not war! Imbeciles!” Breathing heavily, he slowly regained his composure as he looked up at the statue of Jupiter that was in the main courtyard of Olympus. “As white as the clouds,” he thought. It was then as he was staring at the marble columns all around him, that he knew what he had to do. “Mercury, request an audience with father at once. I must speak of their evils to him, to see what a proper punishment for them would be. Abusing the power of what we know as music,” Apollo said. In turn, Mercury wandered off to the grand hall of Jupiter. Massive marble columns and busts of the gods and goddesses of Olympus surrounded Mercury. He gazed at the tapestries of velvet bearing Jupiter’s bull and thunderbolt, as he slowly approached the massive god sitting on the throne in front of him. With a full, white beard, kind eyes and a strong and deep voice, Jupiter called out to Mercury, “Ah, Mercury my child. Come, sit and feast with me!” Mercury quietly took a seat at the table to the left of Jupiter. “Now, what information have you brought for me today, Wayfinder?” Jupiter’s voice boomed as that of thunder, which also shook Mercury and made him drop his silverware. He stood up before Jupiter, cleared his throat and then spoke “I have information regarding a request from Apollo. He sends to you that he wishes for Typhon to be quelled by the fighting states of Sicily.”
“Music soothes the savage beast, eh?” Jupiter responded. “So be it.”
Mercury, sprinting from Olympus, returned to the island and told them of their task that would end their quarrels. He told them that they were to calm the raging Typhon or their island would be destroyed. Fearing for their lives, they mustered their forces into a massive army and marched towards Mount Etna, where Typhon was beginning to awaken. Black from the molten rock that coated him, he peered at the army moving towards him. Collaboratively, the army played the nastiest tune that they had known. This did nothing but irritate Typhon. He let out a raging roar as he lowered his head and charged across the Tyrrhenian Sea into Vesuvius and set the mountain aflame. Fiery rock emerged from Typhon as he turned his head, blinded from the ash, he struggled. He then turned and saw the source of the terrible sound. Again, he lowered his heads and charged back towards Etna. “No! This is not what you are to do!” Apollo screamed as he rode on his golden chariot towards them. He took his lyre from his back, and gave the war drums a beat. The flutes understood now what they had to do, as did the trumpets. Apollo led them to victory as they played the softest, most beautiful song that the world had ever heard. Typhon collapsed, infatuated by the astonishingly the perfect pitches of the song, returning the underside of Etna, destined to slumber for another eternity.
The people of Sicily finally realized that this was what music really was all about. Coming together and working as one; as an ensemble. The City-States then moved on and formed one country that loved music together and they called it Concordia. From then on, the best bands in the world were led by the grace of Apollo and his lyre.
