Cupid (7 page)

In the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea word spread that Psyche was going to be married to a monster! It would have been devastating enough to learn that Psyche was going to marry, but that her husband was a monster? This was more than the people could bear. Each of them had a picture in his and her mind of what the monster looked like. For some he was a dragon whose every exhalation was smoke and fire. For others he was a giant with a single eye in his forehead. Still others imagined a wizened old man with a large nose, and warts the size of dinosaur eggs all over his face.

Whatever the monster looked like, all agreed that Psyche was being consigned to a life of misery and suffering, and the people wailed and sobbed. Their grief was so great that flowers wilted, and though it was spring, trees dropped their green leaves. Birds refused to sing; fish stopped swimming; and lions and lambs wept on each other's shoulders.

Alone in her chambers, Psyche could hear the outpouring of grief and was moved by it. We only grieve the loss of those we love. Had she been mistaken? Had the people genuinely loved her, or were they grieving because they would never gaze on her beauty again? Perhaps it was a little of both.

She had always felt unworthy of such ardent attention, because she had done nothing to merit it. Her beauty was a gift bestowed on her in the womb. Perhaps that did not matter. As her father had said: The experience of her beauty brought a transcendent pleasure to their spirits and softened their hearts as nothing else ever had or would. Beauty had been put into her keeping as if it were a child she was to care for. Tears came to her eyes as she understood: she had failed in not accepting the gift of beauty.

And she wept.

Meanwhile Cupid was flying to the home of Favonius, that most gentle of winds, West Wind. It took him all morning and into the early afternoon to fly to the forest of tall trees on the rim of the western horizon where Favonius now lived. Cupid arrived just as Favonius was getting ready to take a nap on the tops of the trees.

"Greetings, Favonius."

Favonius's eyes opened wide as he recognized Cupid. "Greetings, god. To what do I owe the honor of a visit from one such as you?"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Not you, too," Favonius replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm about to take a nap because I'm tired out from doing a favor for Brother Sun. He had me and my three siblings busy this morning."

"Doing what?"

"Blowing every cloud in the world over the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea."

"Ah! That explains it. When I went to the cave of Aeolus, looking for you, I wondered why your siblings were lying on the floor panting for breath. What did Sun want with so many clouds?"

"They are blocking his view so he doesn't have to see Psyche get married to a monster."

Cupid smiled to himself. "Is that so? Well, I hope you aren't too tired that you can't carry out my request."

"What is it you want me to do?"

After Cupid told him, Favonius smiled. "That will be a pleasure! A pleasure, indeed!"

"Thank you," Cupid responded. "Now I must go and make preparations."

Psyche scarcely noticed as her servants bathed her and rubbed her body with oils so she would smell like a field of flowers for her husband. Her servants brushed her long hair until it glowed like deepest night. Finally, they dressed her in a long white gown. Then they left, tears in their eyes, suppressed sobs in their throats.

"Your tears are too late," Psyche said quietly. "You should have cried when the people were calling me the new
Venus. You should have cried when they abandoned the goddess's temples to look upon me. My marriage to a monster is the goddess punishing me. But if this is my fate, I will try to meet it as bravely as I can."

On Olympus, Venus was growing angry. She had been waiting and waiting for Cupid to return and tell her that she no longer had to be concerned about Psyche. But she had not seen him, and nobody knew where he was. Venus remembered Cupid's smile when he came back from where she'd sent him to make Psyche's existence a horror. How could she have been so obtuse as not to have realized what that smile was about? But no. It was unthinkable that her son would have betrayed her and fallen in love with the mortal she hated more than anyone. However, if he had, it was only because Psyche had cast a spell on him.

If only she could see Earth, she might find out where Psyche was and what she was doing. But the clouds over the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea were as thick as illness and prevented her from seeing anything. As if that were not bad enough, someone had been crying most of the day. No one ever cried on Olympus, but the sound was unmistakable.

Everything combined had put Venus in as bad a mood as she had ever been in. Someone was going to suffer, and since she could not find Psyche, she could at least find whoever was doing all that crying.

Venus followed the sound of the weeping to the backside of Olympus. There she saw Brother Sun sitting, his legs
hanging over the side, his head bowed. He was crying so hard, his tears were putting out his light. If he kept crying, he would drown his light, and gods and mortals would be left with nothing but moonlight, starshine, and nightglow.

"Brother Sun? What is your problem?" Venus asked, none too politely.

"Psyche is leaving us, to marry a monster."

Venus's face broke into the first smile she'd had all day. "Is that so?" she asked, making no attempt to hide the pleasure in her voice.

"I don't think I'll ever shine again," Sun went on.

Venus kicked Sun in his rear. "You best get on your way. And stop all that crying! If you're not careful, you
will
put your light out, and we'll really be in a mess then. Go do your job!"

Reluctantly, Brother Sun resumed his arduous climb to the top of the sky.

Venus was pleased to learn that this was Psyche's wedding day, but she wanted to see the ceremony for herself. She had to do something about all the clouds blocking her view of Earth.

She sent for Aeolus. Several hours passed before he came to her palace. His clothes were disheveled, his hair uncombed, and he was so tired he could scarcely keep his eyes open.

"What's going on, Aeolus? You look a mess!"

"I'm having problems with my children. My son Aquilo, North Wind, has turned out to be evil."

"What does he do?"

"He waits until the weather is cold and there's snow and ice on the ground. Then he blows as hard as he can. I don't know how many times I told him that people need a cool breeze when the weather is hot, not when it's cold. He said he likes to see people shiver. And my youngest boy, Favonius, he moved out. Went to live with some trees. Said he was tired of living in a cave with the rest of us. And if that wasn't bad enough, Sun woke me up first thing this morning and told me to have my children bring all the clouds in the sky to hang over the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea. I tried to tell him that some of the clouds were just about ready to drop rain on the crops of folks on the other side of the world, who need rain bad. He said he didn't care about that. And now, just as me and my wife were finally good and asleep, here comes one of your servants saying you want to see me in a hurry. Well, here I am. What do you want? And it better be good, because Cyane does not like to have her beauty sleep interrupted."

"I want you to take the clouds away."

"What! I can't do that. Not after Brother Sun had me bring them over here."

"Can't one of your children blow enough away so I can see what's going on down there?"

Aeolus shook his head. "I'm sorry. My children are tired and all out of breath. People will be lucky if they get their breath back in time to blow summer up from the southern climes."

Venus frowned. She did not like anyone refusing to do what she wanted.

Aeolus looked at her. "You can make faces all you want, but I'll tell you the truth. If I go back down there and wake my boys up and tell them you want the clouds blown away, I'm afraid they will up and leave me. And I could not handle that right now. But I can tell you that—"

"Men!" Venus sneered, interrupting him. "Get out! You're worthless to me!"

Aeolus opened his mouth to finish the sentence, but Venus interrupted him again. "I said, get out! I don't want to hear any more lame excuses!"

Aeolus shrugged. He thought the goddess would have wanted to hear that Favonius was going to play an important role in the marriage of Cupid to Psyche, something Favonius had been so proud of, he had made a special visit to the cave to tell Aeolus. But if Venus didn't want to hear what he had to say, he'd keep his mouth shut. Aeolus called for a playful breeze and was taken back to his cave.

It was early afternoon, around the time of day when Psyche used to walk from the palace to the village and back. This afternoon, though, she would walk through the village and into the unknown.

Clouds more dense than anyone had ever seen blocked
Sun's light, submerging the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea into a gravelike gloom.

Outside the palace, people lined both sides of the road. They held torches so they could see Psyche for the last time. No one spoke. There was the occasional sound of weeping and sniffling, and then the silence returned as thick and heavy as unshed tears.

This reminds me of my weddings. At all six of them, the bride cried; her mother and her sisters cried; and, in fact, every woman there cried. The first couple of times, I got mad because I thought they were crying because the bride was marrying me! But I eventually understood; marriage is different for women. No matter how much a woman loves the man she is going to marry, a part of her is terrified. For a woman, marriage is a journey into the dark unknown, and she doesn't know what might be hiding in the darkness. Maybe more couples would stay together if men accompanied their brides into the unknown and, once there, began again.

Psyche sat on a stone bench in the palace garden. "Is this what it is like to die?" she wondered. She was leaving everything and everyone she had ever known and would never see them again.

She was glad the very day looked as if it wanted to weep. It would have been cruel had the sun been pouring down its warm light when she felt as cold as the moon.

Psyche heard the gates to the garden open. She stood up and turned. Her parents were walking toward her. She
embraced first her mother, then her father. The three stood in silence, the parents gazing into their daughter's face, and she into theirs. They had tears in their eyes, but no one cried.

Finally, the king said, "It is time."

They left the garden and walked in silence along a corridor until they came to the great doors of the palace. The three paused. They wanted to say something, but their minds were too numbed for even a letter of the alphabet to say its name to them.

Finally, Psyche looked at the guards, nodded once, and they slowly pulled open the heavy doors. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and walked out without a backward glance at the palace. In front of her went four of the king's soldiers, each holding a torch high. The king and queen walked behind Psyche, guarded on each side by a soldier with a torch. Behind them came four more soldiers also holding torches.

Psyche walked slowly, her head held high. She looked into the faces of the people lining the road—something she had never done—and saw sorrow on every face.

"We love you, Psyche!" a voice called out.

Then came another and another. "We love you, Psyche! We love you!"

Eventually everyone called out softly, as if they were singers in a chorus, "We love you, Psyche! We love you."

Now, when it was too late, Psyche regretted having been closed to the love the people had offered.

The sad processional made its mournful way through the village, and there, on the other side, a heavy and dark silence covered them. Ahead was the forest path that would bring Psyche to the top of the mountain, where her husband waited.

Psyche stopped, then turned to her parents.

"You do not need to go up the mountain with me," she told them.

"But—"

"It is better if I go by myself."

"We don't want you to go up there alone," her mother interjected in a trembling voice.

"Thank you, Mother, but even if you were with me, I would still be alone. Each of us must meet our fate as if we no longer have a mother or father, brother or sister."

Psyche hugged and kissed her parents. Then, taking a torch from one of the soldiers, she started up the path.

Now that she was alone, the tears that had been waiting for release longer than Psyche knew sprang from her eyes and poured down her face.

Tears had been accumulating since Psyche had been in her mother's womb and heard her father whisper that she was going to be his little princess. Each of us has tears from the moment we are conceived. We need tears so we can
express those sorrows for which there will never be words. But tears can speak the language that is unique to them only if we tell them they can. When Psyche's tears heard that she was going to be a princess, they knew it would be hard for them to be part of Psyche's life. There were so many things a princess could not do, like eat with her fingers, laugh too loudly, or speak above a quiet and measured tone. Last but by no means least, a princess could not cry. Woe be to those who do not care for their tears.

When Psyche fell and skinned a knee, her nurse would say, "You must not cry. You are a princess and the people of the kingdom need you to be strong."

If one of her sisters said something that hurt her feelings, and then with tears in her eyes, she told her parents, they would say, "If mere words bring tears to your eyes, what will you do when something truly awful happens? You are a princess, Psyche, and princesses don't cry."

On this particular night, as Psyche made her way slowly up the path to the mountaintop, no one was there to remind her that she was a princess. The only beings who saw her were the trees and the stones, and they saw a lonely and frightened young woman who was crying so hard they feared her grief would break
their
hearts.