The Furies defy Apollo

Though often described as crones, gorgons or even harpies, I have chosen instead to have the Furies (Greek, erinyes) represented here by a scene from a 4th century Greek vase now in a museum in Karlsruhe, Germany. In my own imagination, they are much older and wingless. The chapter with the title above follows--

Orestes and his companions awoke to a noisy commotion in the shrine. They saw Kalkhas and his assistant confronting three or four creatures that looked like old women dressed in many layers of rags and covered with snakes; perhaps it was so because when they spoke what everyone heard were hisses that almost drowned out their voices. Their appearance suggested that they should smell of sulphur and hell-fire, yet around them swirled a smell mostly of the earth, of deep and old earth.“You have no right to be here,” intoned Kalkhas. “This shrine is dedicated to Lord Apollo, son of Zeus Almighty. Orestes whom you seek for your foul purposes has been purified by Bright Apollo himself. You have no power over him!”
What would you know about our powers?You are but Apollo’s servant.We are more ancient even than Zeus,Though we bow before his thunderbolts.
Him that we seek has shed his mother’sBlood, such pollution Apollo—Even though he rides with the sunAnd spreads great pestilence amongThe armies and the cities of men—Cannot forgive, cleanse or absolve.
One who has shed his mother’s blood Is damned forever; we would devourSuch a monster …
The Furies, ancient divine beings that tended to the fate of men and the world, were interrupted by the appearance of Apollo himself, radiant in anger and self-importance:
Such crones as you dare to intrude into my shrine?You fail to reckon on the passing of power to a new era.Even as Ouranos was supplanted by ChronosAnd him by his son Zeus, father of us all.You dare belittle my power to absolve what you call pollution.Know then that Zeus has deemed the morality of men in needOf proper and orderly management andWill bring an end to the senseless cycles of blood feuds.Such vengeance as you speak of is either too little Or too much and depends on inflamed passions.
His audience, however, was far from cowed by his appearance or his claims and retorted:
We hear what you have to sayAnd long have seen that what you doSeem to mock your own high goals.Zeus himself has favored Herakles,And waged war on Priam’s city.Why else do you favor Agamemnon?And now wish to exempt his sonFrom full and just retributionFor slaying his own mother, pah!How just and proper is that!
Apollo in turn protested:
Agamemnon was far from being my favorite amongThe Greeks. He prolonged the agony of war before Priam’s gate by refusing the ransom offered by ChrysesMy priest, who pleased me with his manifold devotion,For his daughter, Chryseis. The fool claimed she was moreFit to be his queen than Clytemnestra. So he Boasted and kept Chryseis to warm his bed a yearDespite the pestilence I sent among the Greeks.Then when his chiefs and men persuaded him that sheShould be given up in ransom, he took Briseis fromBrilliant Achilles. That fool, idiot, Agamemnon.I do this not for him at all, but to upholdThe law that fathers and kings are sacred to Zeus.
Furies:
Then why protect his son Orestes?For the son killed his mother.Are mothers less than fathers and kings?Do they not deserve to be avenged?
Apollo:
Because she had shed blood first, that of Agamemnon.His sin is less; he must avenge the father she slew.
Furies:
That blood-guilt is not the same;Man and wife are not kin, though wrongThis sin is less than matricide.Our role is to avenge the sheddingOf family blood, the worstOf crimes, the most impious.
Apollo:
Do you then belittle the bonds of marriage?Such as is made sacred by Aphrodite, Hera,Zeus himself, even by Hestia, his older sister. Further, to the sacred rituals should be addedThe vows of parents and even of clans and nations.Those are what bind man and wife more than their blood.Your fine distinction is strained and weak; murderIs the taking of any life. But to kill a King who must, Zeus-like, give order to a city,We deem a crime that demands vengeance, thusWe urged Orestes on to his glorious deed.
Furies:
You call glorious what we assertTo be heinous murder. A motherIs closer and dearer than anyoneAnd ought to be revered above all.
Apollo:
Not so, for a child is born of the seed of a man,He places that seed in a woman only temporarily Until it is ready for the world and its fate.The mother gives nothing but a space for the seedWhich she gives up when time is ripe and birth fitting.
Furies:
Your words are childish and ignorant—
Apollo:
Athena, goddess of wisdom was not born of a mother.
Furies:
The exception that proves the rule.But we will stay and bandy words No more with you. You cannot cleanseOrestes of the pollution of the Blood of his mother. Surrender Him to us; we will suck out hisStained blood, polluted as it is.
Apollo shone brilliantly as ever, full of Olympian majesty. But the Furies walked through his barriers as if they did not exist. In a towering rage, he summoned his chariot drawn by the fire-horses that drew it at his behest. He would have ascended to Olympus and called on Father Zeus to smite the Furies with his thunderbolts. But Hermes appeared briefly and whispered to him and then to Kalkhas before disappearing.Greatly humiliated and offended, Apollo cast a spell to put the Furies to sleep—he could not fight them but apparently he, like Hermes, could delay them. Then he whispered briefly with Kalkhas and vanished. The seer approached Orestes and his party and told them:“Lord Apollo has cast a spell to put the Furies to sleep. It will hold them for a few days. Meanwhile, you need to go to Athens and supplicate the goddess Athena for her protection. She is not there now but Lord Hermes has gone to fetch her from her errands. It is to Athena that you must go, and quickly.”Without another word, Orestes led his party out and got on the way to Attica and Athens. “So much for the promises of a god,” he muttered.“His dreams were strong and the headaches real enough,” responded Pylades.“You all do not have to come with me on this quest,” announced Orestes after they had ridden for a while. “If Athena can save me, well and good. If even she cannot, the Furies will kill me whether or not anyone else is there.”          “But Orestes,” contended Pylades amiably. “We want to keep you company; besides, I’ve never seen Athens.”