Scorched

by Jendela Tryst

  “No harm will come to her if you would relieve us of your probing presence,” the voice in the shadow thundered. “Where you go, the Eyes will follow.”

  “Not here, they won’t. That is what I have come to tell you. Everyone is busy helping a man named Aeneas on his dreadful journey. You are the last in the minds of most. I’ve come to tell you that.”

  “Aeneas...”

  “Yes, one of Aphrodite’s brood. She is quite busy trying to protect that hapless fool. You are far from everyone’s minds. I thought you would like to know that.”

  There was a brief pause. When her husband spoke again, his voice was softer. “I thank you for the news.”

  “Indeed.” Mercury put his hand on the table and began tapping it agitatedly. “Now, could we please have some light in here? These shadows are utterly depressing! How do you tolerate it, my dear?”

  “Well, he usually allows a few candles.” Psyche murmured. She barely heard herself speak. Mercury spoke of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, like a casual acquaintance. As if he knew her personally. Psyche’s hands were starting to shake, so she made a fist to steady them. She had to stay calm. She did not want to reveal weakness. It was why her husband kept things from her. He was afraid she could not handle the truth. Now, here was her mortal body quaking again, revealing to all that he was right to worry. Psyche steadied her voice. “And it is not all that bad. I have the servants to talk to and the gardens to explore.”

  Her husband’s voice came, warm, soothing, and her hand abruptly stopped shaking. His voice always seemed to comfort her, like a warm embrace. It assured her that she was safe.

  Mercury was watching her very carefully.

  “Psyche also goes hunting on occasion,” her husband was saying. “She occupies her time quite productively.”

  A few candles were lit but only to one side of the room, Psyche noted. She still could not see that far left corner where she was sure her husband stood.

  “So you hunt?” Mercury looked dubiously at her frame. “You let her to go into that forest alone?”

  The shadow responded evenly. “She holds her own quite well in the forest. She’s been out twice already.”

  “And not been eaten yet, I see.”

  “Psyche is much more resilient than you think. She is quite a capable, prudent, and independent woman. She can shoot better than most of the inhabitants of this island and my servant tells me that she is a superior tracker.”

  Mercury peered up and down at Psyche, not quite able to believe that the elegant woman before him had any of the traits her husband was describing. All the while, Psyche found herself blushing at her husband’s unexpected compliments.

  “I am not truly that good,” Psyche demurred. “I simply know better than to go too far. I also have a strong servant, Bruno, to aid me if I fall into any danger.”

  “I don’t think you realize the sort of danger that is out there,” Mercury reprimanded gently. “No servant can protect you from Cyclopes, harpies, dragons, and I know not what other dangers.”

  The creature at the corner chuckled. “You are only making her more curious, Mercury, not dissuading her in the least.”

  “You have Cyclopes?” Psyche breathed. “Are they hiding on the mountains to the East? The one where Echo haunts? I have only read of such beings!”

  “And in papyri they should remain!” cried Mercury, “Ugly, smelly, mindless, loathsome things! I don’t know whose drunken idea they were. If Zeus could increate them, I wish he would! ”

  Psyche remained silent, imagining what she would need to bring to prepare herself for a glimpse of such a being. She heard the smile in her husband’s voice. “So you see, she has much to entertain her.”

  “If only entertainment was all we need.” Mercury tapped his cup and invisible hands poured him more wine. He looked thoughtfully at the girl across from him. “Tell me, Psyche, do you miss your family?”

  Psyche was taken aback by his question. A pang of homesickness hit her suddenly. The palace was beautiful, comfortable, but her house was cozy and familiar. Someday, she hoped the palace would feel like home for her. But right now, it still fit her like a beautiful gown that didn’t suit.

  “Of course,” she replied. “My father especially. I worry much about him. He did not look well when we last spoke.” Psyche frowned at the memory of him on his bed after trying to fight off the guards. She hoped he was faring better.

  “You would give much to see him again?” Mercury quizzed.

  Psyche nodded. “I would. Or to receive word. Anything.”

  Mercury reached out and gave her hand a small squeeze. “I understand how hard it must be for you. There may be a way I could help. But only if the Master of the house allows it, of course.”

  Psyche saw the shadow shift uncomfortable. His voice sounded surprised. “You mean your shield?”

  Mercury shrugged. “She misses her family. It could assure her.”

  Psyche’s heart began to lift. If nymphs and satyrs and mind readers were possible, perhaps seeing her family would be possible as well. The words rushed out of her and she faced the dark corner where she knew the creature stood. “If there is some way that I can see them, you must allow it. When I left, my father was very ill. And there had been some talk of debts that he could not pay.”

  “No worry about those debts, my dear,” Mercury assured her. “I’m certain your husband has made sure your family was adequately compensated for their loss.”

  Mercury looked passed her and peered at the dark shadow at the corner who had remained silent.

  “Please,” Psyche implored. “If there is a way for me to see him, allow it. I will ask nothing more of you. Please, just give me this.”

  There was a pause. And although Psyche noted no change, Mercury nodded and stood up to pick up a shield that was leaning against a wall. It was so polished that light seemed to radiate from it.

  “This shield can show you anything you wish to see. You need only to look into it, and think of your father.”

  Mercury supported the shield for her and tilted it so that she could see her own reflection staring back at her. Psyche touched its polished metal and was surprised by how warm it was, as if it had been sitting in the hot sun. She then focused on her reflection and tried to envision her father’s bearded face. Slowly, her reflection began to fade away trembling slightly, until it truly was her father’s face before her. He suddenly turned away to look at a basket full of gold and gems with disdain. Her mother appeared by the table, chattering and admiring some beautiful pieces that she was organizing on their table. Her sister Claudia was picking through the treasures and placing one of the ruby necklaces around her neck for her mother to admire.

  The scene faded. When it reappeared, it showed her father in bed refusing a bowl of porridge that her mother had made for him. His face was pale, and his eyes never strayed from the bedroom window that faced the woods where they hunted. Psyche watched as a teardrop fell from his eyes.

  Psyche wiped away her own tears that were streaming down her face as the scene from the shield faded away. She pushed it back towards Mercury and could not meet his gaze.

  “I knew this was a mistake,” she heard the shadow say. “Your family was well compensated. They shall want for nothing.”

  “My mother and my sister, perhaps, but not my father. He has never wanted nor desired riches. His guilt and fear is destroying him. How I wish I could see him. Assure him that I am well. Comfort him—.”

  She broke off, unable to complete the sentence, her grief overwhelming her. Psyche did not see the look Mercury gave to the shadow at the corner. She brushed away her tears and stood up, wondering how she could forget the sadness in her father’s eyes. “Forgive me. I shall retire early today.”

  Without another glance behind her, she quit the room.

  Once alone in her quarters, Psyche allowed herself to weep freely. When her maid came to try to comfort her, she would not be consoled.

 
“There, there now, little one. What about a letter? You could write a letter to your family, perhaps, and let them know you are well.”

  Psyche looked up with renewed hope. “A letter? Will that be allowed?”

  “I don’t see why not. Perhaps you should ask the Master.”

  “Yes, please, tell him to meet me in the library!”

  “It is quite late my dear,” Cordelia pointed out. “Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow.”

  “No, no. I must speak to him tonight. I cannot wait so long. My father is not well!”

  When Psyche heard her husband’s voice in the library, asking if she was well, she could hardly contain herself. “I wish to write a letter to my father.”

  There was a silence that made Psyche’s hope falter, but she plowed on. “I want to assure him that I am well and that he needn’t worry. You have treated me so well here and I have no complaints. It doesn’t seem fair that he should suffer so.”

  The creature let out a long sigh. “I wish it were as simple as that. Unfortunately, writing is an unacceptable form of communication here. You see for yourself the Great Library. It is only one of hundreds. Whatever you write will get recorded and stored. They will know you are here.”

  Psyche shook her head, not comprehending. “Who?”

  “Those who seek to do you harm. I have already sent word to your father that you are safe and well.”

  “But what good is that to him? Of course he will not believe you.”

  “Perhaps you could send him something like a token that would symbolize your well being. Something that will be meaningful only to him.”

  “Such a token could so easily be misunderstood. He might think it as a farewell or a symbol of my death.”

  The creature gave a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  With such simple words, the light in Psyche’s eyes faded. The following day, she would not leave her quarters. She imagined her father dying alone, racked with guilt and she realized she would never see him again.

  Psyche began to withdraw. Although she was able to get up, she found joy in nothing. She started feeling like a prisoner again, only this time, she had no one to blame. She knew her husband was only trying to protect her, but what use was it to protect her when the people she cared for the most, were suffering? Should she not protect them as well?

  Another day passed and Psyche did not rise from her bed. Instead she stared sullenly at the sun and watched it cross the magnificent horizon casting long dark shadows across her elegant room.

  Chapter 12

  Hermes, messenger god for Zeus, renowned throughout the world for his musical skills, gift of storytelling, and endless wit, frowned as he flew towards Olympus. He had just relayed a message to Aeneas of Fallen Troy, a man destined for great things. Unfortunately, the beautiful African Queen, Dido with whom the Trojan prince was starting to fall in love, thwarted Aeneas from his journey. This would not do! According to the Fates, Aeneas needed to discover a city that would some day become a mighty empire, one that would conquer even Greece one day, finally avenging Troy.

  Yet, Rome may never be discovered if love got in the way. So Hermes visited the swaggering prince Aeneas’s dream and threatened his life, and all of his loved ones, if he did not leave Dido immediately. It was the only way to shake up these silly romantics. Love was such a bothersome force, slowing progress down.

  Hermes thought of Eros and Psyche. Hermes was shocked to meet the notorious mortal for the first time at Eros’s palace. A god rarely felt shock. If one did, the other gods could feel it and search for the cause with their All-Seeing Eye. Fortunately, there was no danger of this in Eros’s palace.

  Years ago, Eros discovered that the waterfalls surrounding the lowest of five mountains obscured All-Seeing Eyes. No god could peer into space directly in between the waterfalls. Eros told Hermes about his discovery, and together, they tested it with Hermes’s shield. When Eros stood between the falls, Hermes could not find him. The two gods agreed to keep the spot a secret. Eros thought it was the perfect place for a summer escape, especially when he needed to take refuge from his difficult mother. Eros erected the palace, and for many years it housed notorious revelries. Eros and Hermes often hosted clandestine celebrations of a kind that would have horrified some of the more demure gods. None of whom were ever invited.

  Hermes smiled at the memory of their wild escapades. Ah, what good times he and Eros had! When Hermes heard that Eros’s infamous palace had a new mistress, he couldn’t wait to visit. Perhaps, the Palace of Amorus would be accepting guests once more. It was all rumor, of course, but Eros was rarely seen anymore on Mt. Olympus, and there was talk that a special lady friend was now occupying his secret fortress.

  Hermes was surprised Eros had gotten over Psyche’s death so quickly. He assumed that Eros had seen the poor girl throw herself off of a cliff. Wanting to respect Eros’s grief, Hermes avoided his friend, but when Hermes heard about Eros’s new mistress, Hermes was eager to make amends. Eros must be ready to forgive him, then they could go back to their old ways.

  The messenger god was disappointed when he found Eros not at home, and he was weary from the whole journey to Amorus, an island on the far end of the earth. Hermes was determined to meet its new mistress. He heard her footsteps as she approached. He knew the precise moment the strange woman saw him and immediately sensed her disgust with him. He was unfazed as females were often horrified with Hermes, until he revealed his hidden charm. But when Hermes turned and saw the new lady, he realized something was wrong.

  Firstly, she was ridiculously beautiful. The hair, the eyes, the exquisite form, and languid grace ere exceptional, making Hermes suspect she was a demi-goddess, a nymph princess, perhaps, or a Muse. But after reading her mind, her very funny and mortal mind, where she blatantly disparaged his upbringing. This was sacrilegious on so many accounts, for he was raised by no other than Zeus himself! Hermes realized she had no idea who he was. Anyone from Mt. Olympus would recognize a god, no matter what form he or she took. So this woman had to be human. And not just any human.

  A human that was supposed to be dead!

  In the span of a few seconds, Hermes realized that Eros had devised the whole scheme. He faked Psyche’s death and then hid her away, fooling his mother and everyone on Mt. Olympus. Hermes still did not know how Eros managed to bring Psyche to the island without anyone seeing. Upon questioning the naive young woman, Hermes discovered that Psyche did not know who her husband was. Eros managed to keep her in the dark, most likely for her own safety.

  But what was his plan? Did he intend to keep her there forever, completely oblivious to who he was? If Psyche ever discovered who Eros was, Hermes doubted that even the waterfalls could muzzle her shock. Her emotions would reverberate in every Olympian’s bones. Zeus would find them, and it would all be over for them.

  How long could Psyche be kept in the dark? Hermes remembered the girl’s endless curiosity. The probing questions she kept asking, which he had to dodge. Hermes did not want to like her, for it was easier to blame her for all the trouble she caused. But eventually, her charming attentiveness to his stories and her sharp, witty responses forced Hermes to smile. There was intelligence but also dangerous recklessness, worsened by ignorance. Psyche had left the palace and wandered the Enchanted Forest alone and seemed to think nothing of it. Hermes couldn’t believe Eros allowed it. In addition to the creatures of the island being deadly, outside the falls, Psyche would be out in the open for any All-Seeing Eye to spot. Fortunately, no one was looking for her. At least not yet.

  Hermes did not know when it was during their conversation that he decided to save Psyche’s life. Perhaps, it was when she fearlessly called him a liar, revealing the fiery underbelly beneath that gorgeous sheath. Perhaps it was when she defended her lying husband, revealing a loyalty Hermes could not fathom. Perhaps it was when he saw how utterly in over his head Eros looked hiding miserably in the darkness alone. For whatever re
ason, Hermes was already cooking a plan.

  First, Hermes needed Psyche out of the palace and away from Eros’s influence. There was a potion Psyche could drink that would help her forget her past so she could start a new life. After drinking and falling asleep, Hermes would disfigure her face in some mild way, a small scar or a broken nose that would no longer make her stand out so much. Hermes would then take her to a distant, populated city. No one would try to look for her there, and since she would no longer be so beautiful, she would not draw any attention. In time, Psyche could find a good and simple mortal man to take care of her and all would end well.

  Hermes just needed to get Psyche to drink the potion. He hoped she would do so voluntarily, but he could see that the girl was already quite smitten with her strange husband. Hermes noticed her hands stop shaking when Eros spoke. Hermes rarely saw seasoned soldiers with that sort of self-control. That boy certainly had power over her. Hermes was impressed. Even without a face or body, love was able to seep into that mortal’s heart.

  Hermes’s wings were starting to tire. He found a small island of sand to rest upon. He was in no rush get to Olympus, and he needed to find Eros. The small crabs made room for the weary god as he plopped on a dune. Looking into his shield, Hermes conjured a vision of Eros, a hunched and lonely figure taking a break from his work to sit on a rocky beach, watching the seagulls bickering above the waves. Recognizing the rock on which Eros sat, Hermes put his shield away.

  “No rest for the weary,” Hermes told a crab that was trying to pinch his sandals. After flicking it away, the messenger god shot up to the sky.

  Demeter, goddess of grain and agriculture, noticed a familiar flash streak across the horizon. She sat at the peak of her favorite mountain, immune to the cold, icy winds, silently protesting the abduction of her beloved daughter, Persephone. Winter had settled throughout the land, a thin layer of snow cloaking the world. Nothing would grow, for Demeter would not allow it. Her snow-white hair billowed like a sail in the breeze, uncombed and unkempt.