“Go to earth and find that wretched girl! Pierce her heart with one of your arrows, and make her fall in love with the most hideous creature existing in the entire kingdom. Let the people know and remember who the true goddess of beauty really is!”
Eros had no choice but to obey his mother, as such was his duty as the god of love. He flew down to earth, fluttering through the kingdom invisible so that nobody would see him. He knew where Psyche was, so he went directly to her chambers. When he reached her chambers, he saw that she was sleeping on the bed. He took to the air, and floated gently above her, holding himself aloft with his feathery wings. He drew one of his arrows, and held it in his hands. Psyche was truly beautiful; it was a shame that this had to be happening to her. Psyche stirred in her sleep, and opened her eyes to look straight into Eros’. Even though he was invisible, this startled him and the arrow slipped, scratching his own hand. The sweet poison of love flowed through his veins, and he was truly in love with the girl lying before him. He remembered his mother’s words, but he couldn’t bear to lose Psyche to anybody, so Eros began to formulate another plan.
Eros went to the king in a dream in the form of a dragon, and told him that he was to take Psyche to the top of the nearest mountain dressed as if she were to be married, and leave her there on her own. If this sacrifice wasn’t made, then the dragon would come and destroy the entire kingdom. The king was left with very little choice, he loved Psyche more than anything, but her life was worth saving the lives of hundreds of others. He did as the dragon instructed and had Psyche prepared according to the instructions given to him in the dream. The king and queen took Psyche to the top of the mountain and left her there. Psyche collapsed to the ground wracked with sobs, she was convinced that she was going to die.
“Please don’t cry”, a gentle voice whispered into her ear.
She looked up, but there was nobody to be seen, “Who’s there?”
“I am Zephrys, the West Wind. I have been sent by my master to take you home.” Before she had time to reply, she was gently lifted from the ground and carried through the air. The world stretched out before her, she could see her father’s kingdom and everything that lay beyond. The wind carried her for, what seemed, only a few minutes but it was really hours. The landscape changed beneath her as she was whisked through the air. It went from lush green valleys, to craggy mountaintops, and she was finally set down in a secluded valley within a mountain range. Before her stood a grand palace hewn from the purest marble Psyche had ever seen. The columns reached high up, supporting level upon level, as the house seemed to touch the clouds. Tentatively, she crept up to the palace door, reaching out to push them open. At her touch, the doors swung open without a whisper, and she was greeted by another ominous voice.
“Welcome home mistress. Your bath has been drawn, and dinner will be served shortly.”
Psyche looked around, apparently the voice was coming from right in front of her, but there was no one there?
“Who are you?” she asked.
“We are the servants of the palace. None of us can be seen, but we are always near to tend to your every need.”
The voice sounded sincere, “Who is your master? Where am I?”
The voice replied, “You are home, mistress. Come.”
An invisible hand gently wrapped around her own, and began to lead her deeper into the palace. Psyche followed willingly, and was lead into an enormous chamber, with a large pool in the centre. Steam rose from the water, and it was scented with the most beautiful scent Psyche had ever smelled. She sank into the water gratefully, waiting for the master of the palace to come and introduce himself, but nobody came.
Psyche enjoyed an exquisite banquet, and the invisible servants provided heavenly music. When night had fallen, it was time for Psyche to retire. She was lead to the bedchambers, and every luxury was provided therein. She fell into the silken pillows and quickly fell asleep. Just as she began to dream, she felt a warm, soft hand touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes and turned over. The room was pitch black, and there was no lamp nearby. The sweetest voice she had ever heard whispered into her ear, “Welcome home, my bride.” The master of the palace had returned.
Psyche awoke the next morning filled with joy. Her husband was no where to be seen, but she was far too happy to take any notice to his absence. She danced through the halls of her new home, exploring every room, singing the whole time. The servants showed her around the palace and the surrounding valley. The swiftest greyhounds in the world lived in the palace, and Psyche took them out to run in the fields. She laughed and clapped her hands with joy as the hounds would chase down the deer running through the fields, then come and lay by her side. She was very happy there, but she did miss her family. Night after night, her husband would return to her when the sun had set. When he was asked why he wouldn’t show himself, he would only reply that the time wasn’t right, and she would have to be patient. She accepted this, and was grateful for all that she had. One night as she was lying beside her husband, she asked him, “I love you, but I also miss my family. Can’t my sisters come and visit me, for even just one day?”
Her husband sighed happily, “If it will make you happy, you may have them here as long as you wish.”
The next day, Psyche’s sisters arrived via the West Wind. They were terrified, having been plucked from their homes and thrown through the air to a place unknown to them. They were set at ease when they saw Psyche waiting for them at the palace’s entrance. Throughout the course of the day, Psyche showed them around her home, and all of the wonderful things therein. With each new thing she showed them, they grew more and more jealous, but feigned interest. It was nearly the end of the day, and Psyche sat in the fields with her sisters. One sister asked, “What is it that your husband does to be able to provide you with all of this?”
Psyche had no idea what to say, “His father was rich, and he inherited all of this upon his death.”
“Tell us, what does he look like?”
Psyche stumbled for an answer, “He doesn’t return to me until night fall, and I have yet to see his face.”
The sisters feigned shock, but this is just what they were waiting for, “You haven’t seen his face?! Perhaps this is the dragon that appeared to father in his dream, and he hopes to trick you into trusting him, then kill you?” The other sister broke in, “Yes! You should keep a knife by your bedside, and when he returns tonight, kill him before he kills you!”
Psyche couldn’t believe what she was hearing! Were her sisters so jealous that they had to trick her into killing her husband?
“You’re both just jealous of what I have! I want you both to leave NOW!”
At her final word, the West Wind tore through the valley and scooped the sisters up from where they sat, and whisked them back to their home. Even though they were gone, doubt began to cloud Psyche’s judgement. Could her sister’s have been right? Could this be the dragon? She was determined to find out, only to put her own mind at ease.
She kept a small lamp by the side of the bed, and waited for her husband to return. Just as the sun set over the horizon and the bedchambers was plunged into darkness she felt the familiar touch of her husband. She pretended as if nothing was wrong, that the visit with her sisters went wonderfully, and she intended to have them back very soon. She lay awake by his side, waiting for him to fall asleep. When his breaths were deep and regular, she reached over to the side of the bed for the lamp, and lit the wick. The flame sputtered as she lifted the lamp for it to shed it’s gentle light on her husband. She gasped in shock at what she saw! This was no monster or dragon; it was Eros, the god of love! As she held the lamp closer to him, the flame grew brighter, and seemed to set him aglow with a brilliant golden radiance. He was easily the most beautiful man she had ever set eyes on. His body was perfect, and his face beautiful. Thick, white feathery wings grew from his back and the tips reached all the way down to his feet. She was overjoyed to find a god sharing her bed, and began to kiss his face while he slept. While she did this, a drop of hot oil fell from the lamp and onto Eros’ shoulder tearing him from his sleep. When his vision cleared, he saw Psyche beside him with the lit lamp, and flew into a fit of rage. He pushed her aside, extinguishing the lamp, and stormed out of the palace shouting, “I told you to wait for the time when I was ready to reveal myself to you! Wretched woman! Keep this palace, and remain here for the rest of your life!”
Grief-stricken, Psyche pleaded with Eros to stay, promising to obey his every command from that day on, but her refused to listen to her. Right as he reached the open air of the outdoors, he took to his wings and flew over the mountains and out of Psyche’s view. Psyche collapsed to the ground, cursing herself for being so foolish. She immediately scrambled along the ground in the direction that Eros was flying, convinced that she could make him forgive her. She left the safety of her palace, and wandered through alien territory all night long wondering the whole time if she would ever see her beloved husband again.
As the sun broke over the horizon, and spilled it’s golden rays across the earth, Psyche found herself in an enormous glade. Standing in the middle was a palace even larger than the one that she had just left the previous night. She recognised the palace as being Aphrodite’s, from stories that she had heard as a child. She also knew that Aphrodite was Eros’ mother, and she must know where Eros was. She began to walk towards the palace’s grand entrance, determined to find Eros.
When Aphrodite found out that Eros had disobeyed her direct commands in dealing with Psyche, she flew into a fit of rage. She took him to her palace, and locked him in one of the many rooms. This room only had one small window, not large enough for him to escape. By this time, he had forgiven Psyche and was ready to return to her, but Aphrodite wouldn’t let him out of the room; she would take care of this mortal herself.
Psyche approached the palace entrance, walking inside as the doors swung open before she had even touched them. She walked into a huge foyer, and standing before her was none other than Aphrodite. Without saying a word, she grabbed Psyche by the hair and began to beat her, cursing her for ever having been born. Soon her anger was satiated, and she said to Psyche, “If you ever want to see my son again, you must complete three tasks I have for you.” Aphrodite produced three bags of seeds, dumping them onto the floor, mixing the three different types together.
“You must separate these seeds into the original three piles by the time I return at sunrise.” And she walked out the door leaving Psyche to her task.
This would be impossible! No one could ever complete such a task in such a small amount of time! She began to weep, curling up on the floor and awaiting Aphrodite to return. She looked up to the pile one last time, and to her astonishment, the seeds were moving on their own! That wasn’t possible? She looked closer, and saw that the pile was swarming with ants, and that they were separating the grain for her. Eros heard what had happened and sent the ants to help Psyche. After a few short hours, the seeds were neatly separated into three piles, and the ants were nowhere to be seen.
Aphrodite returned in the morning and found that the task she assigned Psyche had actually been completed! “How can this be?” she howled, “You must be some sort of witch or sorceress! That task was impossible to complete!”
She struck Psyche across the face, and threw down a crust of bread for her to eat. It was evident that she had underestimated this girl, and must think of a harder quest; one that she would never return from alive.
Psyche was woken up the next morning by a swift kick in the stomach from the goddess of love. “Wretched girl! You will go to where the river Styx meets with the river Avernus, and fetch me a vial of water from the centre of the pool. You have one day to complete this task.”
Psyche knew where the two rivers met, and the journey would only take her a few hours either way. However, according to stories that she heard when she was young, two fierce fire-breathing dragons guarded this part of the river. How could she overcome these? Holding her questions for fear of enraging the goddess further, she set off to where the two rivers met. She had every intentions of throwing herself to the mercy of the dragons upon arriving, but these plans soon changed after an enormous eagle landed before her on the path and spoke to her. “I have been sent by Zeus to aid you in your journey. We will go to the apex together, but I shall get you what you have come for.”
Psyche was shocked! A talking bird? Without questioning, she followed the bird to where the two rivers met. She was becoming less and less sceptical after her episode with the ants. Upon reaching their destination, Psyche was horrified to see that there were, indeed, two huge dragons guarding were guarding the water. “Quickly! Pass me the bottle!” cried the eagle.
Psyche handed over the bottle, and the eagle took to the air. As the dragons saw the eagle coming, they immediately began to spew forth streams of blazing fire, but the eagle was swifter than they were. It dodged between their darting tongue and bolts of flame, swooping down to the water to fill the vial with water from the Black River. The eagle flew back to Psyche, and dropped the bottle into her hands, “Farewell, beautiful one.” And it was gone.
Psyche returned to the temple with the vial of water, and Aphrodite was unable to conceal her shock. “What sorcery is this?! No mortal could have went to the rivers’ apex and survived!” Aphrodite dove onto Psyche, and began to beat her. With her anger appeased, Aphrodite threw another crust of bread down to Psyche, and gave her the things necessary to tend to her many scratches and bruises from the onslaught of the raging goddess. That night, Psyche cried herself to sleep.
Aphrodite woke up Psyche the next morning by dragging her to one of the many windows in the temple by her hair. She forced Psyche to look out the window to a point where a lone mountain seemed to stab endlessly into the sky. “That,” she said “is where the realm of the dead meets with that of the living. You will go down to the Underworld and stand before the King and Queen. You will ask Persephone for a portion of her beauty. Tell her it is for me, and she will comply.” Psyche was thrust out of the temple, and the doors were barred behind her. Slowly, she set off to her destination.
At the top of the mountain, there was nothing but the river Styx tumbling into a seemingly bottomless chasm. The walls of the chasm were covered with jutting stones and firm hand holds to make the descent easier. Psyche walked to the edge of the chasm, thinking how easy it would be to end everything by taking one more step forward. A gentle puff of wind blew through the reeds at her side, and she heard a faint voice sighing, “Do not jump, this is the last task Aphrodite will have for you, and the most dangerous. On your descent, the first thing you will meet up with is an old woman carrying a bundle of sticks. She will lose her hold, and they will scatter on the ground around her. Don’t help her gather them, or you will be bound to that endless task for the rest of eternity. You will carry with you two copper coins to pay as fare for the ferryman, Charon. When crossing on the ferry, a soul will be drowning in the river Styx. Do not reach out to help him into the ferry, he will pull you into the bitter waters, and you freeze to death instantly. Take with you two cakes of barley and honey to feed to the dreaded Cerberus. It is only by that, that he will allow you to pass. After that, you shall stand before the Lord and Lady of Death. You may accomplish your task and return safely to the surface.” The winds died, and the reeds feel silent. Filled with hope, Psyche gathered the items that she was instructed to, and began her climb down.
The climb down was easy; the solid stone handholds made it easy for Psyche to gain her purchase on the way down. Soon, the chasm ended abruptly into a steep path jutting into total darkness. Not soon after she began to the path, an old woman blocked her path. She carried a large bundle of stick on her back, the weight of which was obviously more than she was able to handle. Ragged gasps escaped her mouth, Psyche felt sorry for her. Without warning, the binding holding the sticks together snapped, and they all tumbled to the ground at Psyche’s feet. Remembering the words of the reeds, she strode past the woman without so much as looking down. Once safely past, she looked back, and the old woman was gone as quickly as she had come.
Hours later, Psyche reached the banks of the river Styx. A small brass gong stood to one side of the path. Psyche tapped the gong with the tip of her finger, and a thick mist gathered immediately in front of her. The mist began to form into a discernible shape, a man on a small barge. He was clad in a thick robe that hid his face. He reached out with one hand, and Psyche recoiled in horror; the hand was that of a skeleton. She carefully dropped one of her copper coins into his hand, and boarded the ferry. The ride across was ominously silent, even the oar dipping into the water made no sound. A faint sound of water splashing could be heard off in the distance. Soon the source of the noise was in view; it was the soul that the reeds had warned her of. His face was contorted in pain, and his mouth agape in a soundless scream. The cold of the water was freezing his limbs, and his violent thrashes lessened as the ferry drew nearer to him. His eyes were full of fear, and he pleaded with Psyche to help him aboard. She looked down with her eyes full of tears, “I’m sorry.” she whispered, and they passed him by.
The banks of the other side of the river fells into view. The ferry moored itself onto a small ledge that seemed to grow out of the existing land to form a small bridge between the ferry and the land. Psyche stepped off of the ferry and gasped at what stood before her. A hound as large as an elephant guarded a set of enormous gates forged from the blackest iron. The bars on the macabre gates twisted themselves into a contorted pattern, twining together yet appearing to stand separate. Psyche’s attention was torn from the gate by a low, guttural growl from the hound before her. She looked up into its fiery eyes with horror, there’s were three sets of them! Each of the three heads belonged to a different species of dog, but they were so badly mangled that she couldn’t even begin to guess what they might be. With trembling hands, she reached into her pocket, and drew out a single small cake. She threw it to one side of the gate, and Cerberus snapped it up in one lightning fast movement. Psyche crept forward, keeping a watchful eye on the dog before her. He merely stared out to the river; it seemed as if it was pretending that she wasn’t even there. With one touch of her hand, the gates flung open, and a terrible chill washed over her body. She stepped into the Underworld; not looking back as the gates slammed shut behind her.
Psyche was greeted by the deafening silence of the Fields of Asphodel. A large plain of grey spindly grass stretched out before her. Souls flittered here and there, but they didn’t seem to notice that there was a mortal about them, a being still clothed in flesh and blood. She strode forward; having no idea which way was the best way to go to reach the palace of Hades. The horrors she witnessed in the Underworld would plague her dreams for years to come. She saw the torment of Sisyphus. She watched him roll the huge boulder up the steep hill, and just as he neared the top, he would lose his hold and the boulder bounced down to the bottom of the hill. He merely walked to the bottom and began again, he was no longer a soul, but an automaton bound to an endless task. She walked by Tantalus, up to his waist in water. Each time he bent down to take a drink from the water, it would shrink away from him. This continued on, but Psyche couldn’t stop to help him. She crept through the roasting pits, and saw the harpies flogging the flesh from the bones of the souls chained to the walls before them. She saw Ixion chained to the flaming wheel. It turned slowly, and his screams tore through the chamber like a violent wind. She continued on, blinded by tears, tears for the tormented souls.
Soon she stood before the thrones of the King and Queen of the Dead. She had heard the stories of Persephone being a radiant goddess, the Flower-Maid they called her. An ice-cold woman sat before her, her face was devoid of any expression. To her side sat the dark, menacing King of the Dead. Psyche quickly explained why she had come, and asked Persephone for a portion of her beauty as Aphrodite had instructed her. Without a word, Persephone handed Psyche a small wooden box, and together the King and Queen bade her to leave their land, and never return until it is time for her to be there.
Psyche made her way back up to the surface without incident. Just as she finished scaling the top of the mountain that she had gone down to get to the Underworld, she settled down for a rest, placing the box to her side. It was very beautiful, intricate carvings covered its every surface. “I wonder what Aphrodite needs with even more beauty?” Psyche whispered to herself. “Perhaps if I took a small bit of it for myself, Eros would return to me and remain my husband!” It was true that this is what Psyche wanted more than anything. Just a little bit, she thought to herself, and I will take what’s left to Aphrodite. She pulled herself up beside the box, and quickly opened the lid, peering inside. It was empty? Suddenly, Psyche was overwhelmed with fatigue. Yawning, she stretched languidly under the rays of the dying sun, and entered the mystery and intrigue of the Queen’s beauty.
Aphrodite had freed Eros from his chambers, and he immediately set out to search for Psyche. He found her just where he expected to, and he also saw the open box at her side. He wiped the sleep from her eyes, and put Persephone’s beauty back into the box. He loved Psyche, that much was sure, and he wanted her with him for the rest of eternity. He bore her to the Hall of the Gods on Mount Olympus, where Zeus granted her immortality. There was a grand wedding on Mount Olympus that night. The pair was wed by Hera, and Aphrodite danced with breath-taking grace to the sound of the Muses song. Eros and Psyche lived happily together, and soon Psyche became pregnant. She bore the world one child, that which we call Pleasure.
