When I began writing Oracle of Philippi, I wanted Mynestra to have a raven.
A black bird seemed right for a young woman associated with Apollo and prophecy. Ravens carried the weight of mystery, hidden knowledge, and omens. Apollo’s own bird appears in one Greek myth as a bearer of unwelcome truth.
Then I considered the cage.
In my imagination, Mynestra carried her bird from her owners’ home to Apollo’s precinct and back again. A raven—with a wingspan that can approach four feet—would have made that difficult. It needed more space than the gilded cage I had created for it.
A crow was smaller, belonged to the same family of intelligent black birds, and possessed many of the same associations with omens and augury.
So Mynestra’s bird became a crow, although she still calls him her raven.
Mynestra with her crow, Sylvanus
More Than a Pet
I named him Sylvanus.
He began as an atmospheric detail: a dark, watchful presence beside a woman known for prophecy. But as I wrote, he became something more.
Sylvanus listens while Mynestra performs the role others have created for her. He hears the prophecies, scripted words, private conversations, and threats. His dark eyes seem to follow everything, as though he alone recognizes the difference between truth and performance.
He also reflects something Mynestra doesn’t yet understand about herself (very early in the book). He lives in a beautiful cage. He is cared for. He is protected. People notice and admire him.
But he is still confined.
An Excerpt from Oracle of Philippi
For several hours after Kaius left her, Mynestra sat alone in her room, knees drawn to her chest. A dull ache throbbed deep within her ribs where Kaius’s blows had landed. Her cheek still burned. But on the inside, Jesus had set her free—whatever that would come to mean.
A harsh squawk shattered the stillness. Sylvanus flapped his wings, feathers rustling like dry parchment. He tilted his head and his beady eyes fixed on her through the iron lattice of his cage. She pushed herself upright and crossed the room. Pain tugged at her side with every step. Threading a string of millet through the bars, she watched Sylvanus snatch it with sharp urgency, his beak clacking against the metal.
She had found him years ago on the temple steps, a dark tangle of feathers and broken wing. The priests would have cast him aside, but she had hidden him away, tending him in secret. In time, his wing healed. She tried to release him, and yet he stayed, watching her from his cage with sharp, knowing eyes.
He wasn’t so much different from her, she knew. They were both trapped and controlled, but Sylvanus didn’t have to stay that way.
With sudden resolve, she unfastened her Pythian robe. The silken folds slipped from her shoulders and fell in a heap, the embroidered serpents catching the lamplight—symbols of a power she no longer served. She yanked off her wig and flung it aside. The curls landed in a limp, lifeless mound on the floor.
At the basin, she plunged her hands into the water and scrubbed her face with angry strokes. The kohl bled first—dark rivulets down her cheeks, then the rouge and powder—paint meant to conjure awe, fear, and submission.
Let them see her barefaced. Mynestra pulled a plain tunic over her head and cinched it at her waist. Over it, she tossed a light cape, neither of which identified her as the Pythia. Then she lifted Sylvanus’s cage and tucked it beneath the cape’s folds.
She tiptoed down the stairs, her breath shallow.
Excerpt from Oracle of Philippi, by Catherine E. Ensley.
The Meaning of the Cage
Sylvanus’s cage reflects Mynestra’s captivity, but not in a simple way.
His cage is gilded. He is fed and protected. He might even appear privileged to someone looking from the outside.
Mynestra’s life has similar contradictions. Her owners provide beautiful clothing and place her before wealthy citizens. Her prophetic reputation grants her access and influence that most enslaved women could never possess.
Yet none of it belongs to her.
Her clothing is a costume chosen by others. Her influence enriches her owners. Even her voice has been claimed and shaped for their purposes.
The cage is still a cage, no matter how carefully it has been decorated.
What Sylvanus Sees
Sylvanus also serves as a silent witness.
He has listened while Mynestra spoke for Apollo. He has watched her remove the Pythian clothing that identified her to the city. He remains beside her as she begins to discover who she might be without the role others gave her.
Because he cannot speak, other characters can assign meaning to him. Visitors may regard him as Apollo’s bird and another sign of Mynestra’s prophetic power. Mynestra sees a creature she once rescued. Readers may recognize a reflection of her own captivity.
Sylvanus does not know that he is a symbol.
He simply watches.
That may be why I enjoyed writing him so much. Animals do not care about the identities people construct for one another. Sylvanus does not know Mynestra as an oracle, a slave, a pagan, or a Christian.
He knows the woman who found him injured and refused to leave him on the temple steps.
Freedom for the Bird—and the Woman
As Mynestra’s life changes, the meaning of Sylvanus’s cage changes with it.
At first, she believes she is protecting him. Outside the cage, he might be injured, taken, or killed. Inside it, he is safe.
But safety and freedom are not identical.
That is one of the central questions in Mynestra’s story. The life her owners created for her offers familiarity, beauty, and limited protection. Leaving it exposes her to danger. Yet remaining means accepting an identity that has never truly been hers.
Sylvanus becomes a quiet companion to that struggle.
I can’t tell you everything that happens to him without spoiling part of the story. I can only say that his presence allowed me to explore Mynestra’s captivity in ways that explanation alone couldn’t.
Sometimes she looks at Sylvanus and sees a treasured companion.
Sometimes she sees Apollo’s bird.
And sometimes she sees herself.
***
Enter Mynestra’s Story
Sylvanus is only one witness to Mynestra’s struggle for freedom. Read Oracle of Philippi to follow her journey from Apollo’s prophetic voice to a woman discovering faith, identity, and a voice of her own.
Read Oracle of Philippi
Curious about what crows represented in Mynestra’s world? Explore Crows in the Ancient World
