Goat Song

When no one is listening, in the still watches of the night, the goats sing. First one will sing, then another will reply, then another. Before long, several of them will harmonise, and as the song progresses, one by one every goat on the island joins in, and the music’s grand finale is a madrigal-like wonder.

These songs are not meant for human ears. Indeed, the first melody sung is a charm taught to the goats long ago by the goddess Aega, and the grand song’s end always coincides with the dawn in her honour.

On the island of Seriphos, long years before Danae and her infant son will ride the wine dark waves here, a young girl is waiting.

She waits for inspiration to strike, as it has struck each of her sisters one by one, from the eldest on down. It is her turn, and the waiting for it makes her restless, insomniac.

She is out walking when she hears the song of the goats. It is beautiful, majestic. The goats are the rudest of beasts other than pigs, but to think they can produce such wonderful sounds… it fills her heart with joy, and she turns to face the dawn with the goat chorus soaring around her and through her.

At first, the dawn sun is blinding in its brilliance, shining across the golden Aegean with warmth and cheer and light. It’s only as the chariot of Helios clears the horizon that she sees them: sails. Too many sails to be coming here for anything good.

Around her, the goat song reaches its climax, indifferent to her panic. The girl turns and flees the clifftop. The trail back to town has never seemed so long before, and the girl misses her sisters more than she thought possible, especially her twin.

She raises the alarm, screaming and shouting as the people stumble sleepy from their beds. They take up arms, hide babes and treasures, and prepare for the coming storm.

But the battle is a foregone conclusion. Seriphonian farmers are no match for Phocaean pirates. The small town, too small even to have the dignity of a name, is burned. The people slain or taken.

Only the girl and the goats remain, save only a few of the latter who were not fast enough to reach the hills before the raiders landed. The goats sing a different song this night.

At moonrise, they sing for their fallen, for their lost life and hope and love, and the girl sings with them.

The girl knows what she is, now. She has found her inspiration, or it has found her. Somewhere else in the world at this moment, her twin has found her inspiration too, she knows. She knows, and she wishes her sister the joy of it, but there is no joy in the heart of Melpomene, newly-created a Muse like her sisters.

There is only goat song.