by Io
The myth has changed so many things, in respect to the facts.
Like the morning when I walked in the gardens, with Hades.
I was sad because my nymphs had left, and I would have preferred to sit quietly at the loom, to pity myself while I pretended to weave; but you cannot deny a promise made to the lord of the Avernus, in whose realm the river flows devoted to oaths.
He paid particular attention to liars, which was not at all pleasant. Not that he would have slipped me into the ice of the Tartarus upside down, with herds of rats to devour my feet – at least, I hoped so – but to carry me bodily never cost him much effort.
After trying to find some excuse, which he dismissed with a wave of his hand and look, I told him to give me at least time to make myself presentable. I also told him that he was a hateful bully. He nodded to both statements.
I fastened the sides of the light woolen peplum, which was a very dark blue that brought out the jewels, and fixed the edges on the left shoulder with the gold and lapis lazuli clasp; the belt, shiny red leather, seemed to a bit stiff, which annoyed me, but I doubted it wise to try the patience of those in the hall while I tried on the wardrobe. He had pointed ideas also about vanity. He dismissed the nymphs before they began to arrange my hair and I followed him, irritated by the boots, which numbed my ankles.
Under the eternally colored sky of sunrise or sunset, within the walls of the alabaster and obsidian castle, the trees were always loaded with fruit, and only that. On the north side, where the gate to the path was that led to Cocytus, the Tartarus river, the bare, black branches streaked the sky like skeletal fingers. Their function was solely utilitarian, they had no other purpose. I found that place depressing and I avoided going into the orchards, if I could.
Except that now I could not. Hades led me along the rows, broke dark grapes off, so large they almost filled my palm, and commanded me to feed myself. I turned my head away.
I’m not hungry
“You weren’t hungry even yesterday, or the day before yesterday,” he said, “we will stay here until you have found fresh food that returns your color, Persephone.”
“Are you my husband, or my nurse?”
He ignored my sharp tone and led me under the black branches, filled with orange fruit, which seemed to be so many misshapen eyes looking at me.
“The apples of the Hesperides,” I said, “the daughters of Nyx who live in the far West. Winter fruit. I have lost my appetite just seeing them.”
Hades white face was impassive, but I knew he was drawing on all his reserves of patience. He had his hands tucked into the folds of his gown, not to show his clenched fists. Despite being kind when he was teaching me about the issues of the Underworld, he was unused to being contradicted, and let alone disobeying his will.
“You won’t know if you like them or not, until you taste one. Mortals like oranges.”
Then you should have found a mortal wife, I thought angrily. I’m not hungry. How should I tell you, in Egyptian? In Persian?”
Mortals call him Inexorable, and for good reason. I had to follow him under the black branches, among the gardeners who bowed as we passed, aware that he would not let go until I had done as he wanted.
I stood before the tree on the edge just because I knew that, to continue in this way, would end with a serious argument, the first in my life. I didn’t know how to argue, I wasn’t able to, and I wanted to avoid it. But the fruit seemed hard to me, not at all appetizing, the skin was an unhealthy color, mottled.
“What are these?”
Hades reached out and took one fruit from the lower branches. Seen up close, it looked even less inviting.
“Make an effort, Persephone: not even the gods can live well, without food.”
Without much interest, I saw that an owl peered curiously from the bare branches of a tree. So it would be worth eating that fruit for him, I thought.
I tried to turn it into a joke,
“I’m afraid you’re too used to the unrestrained hunger of Cerberus, but I’ll settle for little. Come now, look at me!”
Hades broke the fruit into two parts.
“It’s because I care for you that we’re here. I never thought that the transition from the surface to my palace would be so fast, or painless. It’s too big a change to absorb in a short time, but this must end and end now.”
He handed me half of the fruit, which I looked at without appetite, but I was surprised. Inside that pockmarked colored peel I saw countless glittering rubies, delicious to behold. I liked it so much that I decided to please him, even if I knew it would not end there. My appetite seemed to have disappeared. I myself could not explain the reason.
Sometimes I think that if I knew what was happening to me, the myth would have been very different, or there would have been no myth. But it is idleness to think about it. Things went the way they did, and the myth became what it is.
I took some seeds from Hades’ hands, I bit into one, distrustfully. The flavor, sweet and sour at the same time, was pleasant, certainly much more than the sickeningly sweet flat bread I had left for breakfast; but what particularly stimulated me was the to stimulate me thought that I was eating bright underground gems, as on the surface I ate the blossoming buds.
“Good.” I said hesitantly, wondering if he would have forced me to eat the whole fruit. I would not have minded, but really I did not feel like it. I had to force myself to swallow. “What is it called?”
“Pomegranate,” Hades said, “it is one of the sacred fruits of the Avernus.”
Smiling, thinking of the exquisitely divine habit of devoting to yourself whatever was interesting. Maybe I could claim the daffodils for myself, after what had happened in Pergusa.
I had eaten six seeds, I remember exactly because I counted them, after asking myself how I could tell him I’d had enough, my body seemed to rebel.
I felt a horrible feeling, as if a thousand wasps had begun to buzz furiously under my skin, and my stomach clenched so hard that I gasped. Half of the pomegranate fell from my hands, and confused spots of color danced before my eyes, bare branches writhed like the fingers of the Fates against the sky of paradise.
While all sank into the black, in a nightmarish hum, I was only aware of a tiny spark, something somewhere, in me like some pomegranate seed, or a bud. It bloomed and shone, together. I didn’t understand.
I can’t remember anything else.
“It’s mine, I tell you.”
“You’re raving, it’s mine. Look at her, she’s still breathing.”
“Oh...”
“You’re damn selfish. She is so beautiful that our lord won’t
ever leave her.”
“Not even to you, resign yourself.”
“They are all mine, all the nights. Be quiet. She is waking up.” I blinked, confused by the sight of the feathers
white and black feathers that took flight in front of me. Hypnos and Thanatos, Sleep and Death, flew out the window and disappeared into the dawn.
I sat up among the poppies, sacred to the god of sleep, scattered on the pillow. I was in bed with the curtains open, covered in furs. Across the room the fireplace that, since I’d asked Hades, was burning day and night, was occupied by the nymphs who had gathered around. As soon as they saw me sitting up, they came running.
“What happened?” I asked, before they began to chatter. I felt my stomach was on fire, and I thought that I could not eat more even if Hades had subjected me to all the torments of Tartarus to convince me. My intestines were in torment.
They answered all at once, in a confusion that on the surface made me feel cheerful, while there, in the quiet environment of the palace, it began to bother me.
“Oh, your majesty, you fainted!”
“You scared us so much!”
“The gardener, Ascalafo, came to warn us that
you were returning...”
“...In the arms of the king, who ordered us to take
care of you...”<
br />
“... he has ordered that we should tell him immediately, as soon as you awaken!”
“He said to go to him even if he is holding a hearing,
just think of that!”
“Yes, there are problems at the entrance of the Avernus...”
“...But he is not taking care of it, and is waiting for news of you!” I raised a hand to silence them, keenly feeling the lack of
my nymphs, who because of their goddess were so precious and irreplaceable. Minthe and Leuka were a void that could not be filled. For me, any other nymph, by comparison, would always be a stranger. But it was no use thinking. I was the queen of the god of definitive choices, I could not regret what had past.
“Give him the news, then,” I whispered, “and we hope he is not angry. I don’t understand what happened to me.”
He was not angry. In his impassive composure, indeed I knew he was very worried, by the way he walked endlessly back and forth; but it was only when he said that, after all, that he could not force spring in the Underworld, I started to get worried as well. I threw aside the fur and stood up.
“I am fine.” As you said, the change is too great to be adjusted to in such a short time, but I feel I have eaten something that has helped me. Anxiety does not suit you, Lord of the Avernus.”
“I’m not worried about womanish fainting,” he said through clenched teeth, “but because I’ve neglecting my duties, because of you.”
I controlled myself, it was clear that he wanted to provoke me. To experience love like a mortal was an insult to his pride. In this he was the same as all the other gods.
“Don’t do it, so I can learn it too. I have heard that there are problems at the entrance to the realm of the dead; it’s time to see how you handle these issues. Don’t you want to show me?”
Without waiting for him to object, and keeping away from his hold, I made my way to the door, to get to the room for the hearings. To avoid a scene in front of his court, he was obliged to follow me, as if he had summoned me.
It was difficult at first, undeniably.
It was painful. The throne of the Underworld is hard, cold, and grants no mercy.
Music for the Dead
I supposed, having the Furies behind me, crouching behind the throne like dogs ready to pounce, does not contribute to anyone’s serenity. They never contributed to mine, even if I finished up by getting used to the hiss of the snakes and the ominous sound of jaws snapping when Hades issued a judgment. I was never calm, though, with the spirits of revenge behind me.
But they had placed the crown on my head, before entering the room, and then I tried to remain impassive, even though the alabaster and obsidian did not warm when it came in contact with my body. In short, I felt numb all over. I had not thought to bring the pillows to cushion myself against the chill of the Underworld, and now it was too late. I faced my first hearing as queen of Hades with, respectfully speaking, cold buttocks.
The man kneeling beneath the podium was young and very beautiful. His head was bowed respectfully, but his light hair could be seen very well, thick as wheat, and the dryness of a lean physique still far from yielding to age. In the brief moment he looked at me while I was walking in, I glimpsed a face with elegant and gentle features, with eyes as blue as the lakes of Parnassus.
Next to him, sitting on a soft cloth, his lyre glimmered reflecting the dreams of the Underworld.
On the huge obsidian throne of the Underworld, with obsidian crown to fill his facial features with dark shadows, the two-pronged pitchfork in his hand like a scepter, Hades spoke,
“The son of Calliope and for this reason he is half divine, I recognize that your perseverance is worthy of respect. A generation has passed since your wife reached the Elysian fields, and since then you’ve managed to enchant Charon while you crossed, and Cerberus so that he would not pull you limb from limb; you have relieved the torment of Ixion and that of Tantalus, a company that I thought would keep you for ever. Instead, you came down the thousand steps leading to this room and you managed to get an audience with the ruler of the Avernus. Your courage deserves praise, Orpheus son of Oeagrus.”
I stood, sensing that the preamble was primarily aimed at me, so I could understand the situation.
“However, this situation cannot continue,” Hades continued, “you cannot stay at the entrance of the underworld, let alone come into my domain. You’re alive. your place is on the surface.”
The Furies moved into the darkness behind me. I realized this was a story of death, perhaps of revenge, and who wanted to enjoy it. The will-o-the-wisps wandered around the royal podium excited.
I clenched my hands on the cold arms of the throne, while Hades concluded:
“Say what you have to say, then, and then return to where you came from. You will arrive at the foot of my throne when it is your time, not before.”
Orpheus looked up, without rising from his submissive posture.
“O Pluto, ruler of the Avernus and all the souls of the dead,” he began, with his voice clear as the song of a nightingale who has learned to speak with human words, “and great Persephone, Queen of the Underworld. I find myself before your royalty to plead with you.”
I managed to remain motionless and silent, overcoming the urge to ask where the queen was that he was talking about. It took me a long time, before I considered myself to be a queen.
“The reason for this trip is my wife, whose young life was cut short by an injustice that you alone have avenged.
For this I prostrate myself in your presence, and I trust that you will hear me to the end.”
I became curious: it was news to me that Hades avenged the injustices of the living. It was the justice of the death that he devoted his attention. Orpheus continued,
“My beloved bride, beautiful among the beautiful and virtuous enough to be in the favor of Athena herself, in an attempt to escape a wicked assault, trampled a viper, whose bite led her into the shadows of Erebus. I wanted to be able to endure such pain, and I cannot say that I have not tried. But love has defeated me. This is a god that rules the lives of mortals on earth; if it happens again, I don’t know, but I know that you, O son of Cronus, were hit by the fatal arrows, the day you brought your bride here. We have so much in common, you see. For this reason, I ask you, give me back my Eurydice!”
I remembered that name, it belonged to my anxieties as a young girl. I breathed deeply, realizing that I was in front of the husband of the nymph who had died because of Aristaeus. Everyone comes to the afterlife, in the end.
The heartfelt words of Orfheus penetrated me, so much for what he said as for how his melodious voice broke, in speaking of his beloved; but it was enough for me to glance sideways at Hades to see that, as usual, the words had seemed to slip over him.
His voice was so flat it seemed to have turned off,
“This is not possible. Your wife is dead, and the dead cannot join the living, except in dreams. She has become a subject of my kingdom, by divine right. You will return to the surface alone, Orpheus.”
But the musician was far from wanting to accept defeat:
“With all due respect, you forget that we are all your subjects by law, after a short stay on the surface, sooner or later, we must arrive at your feet, and once here, your dominion over us is without end.”
I swallowed hard and glanced again at Hades, this time openly; but he gave no sign of emotion. He must have heard similar entreaties hundreds, perhaps thousands of times, and it did not appear that any had ever achieved the minimum effect.
Orpheus spoke with such passion that for a moment the dark room seemed to brighten, even warm.
“Eurydice is already yours, on the day she came to light. I am only asking if you could lend her to me, until she has completed the course of her life, then she will return here, with her heart full of gratitude, why you avenged my beloved, and if you will make up for the wrong of breaking the thread of her destiny so soon, oh lord, I will devote music to you
that you have never heard before!”
Music in the Underworld. I could not help smiling, and Orpheus saw and turned towards me, spoke to me, lowering his eyes, from the sweetness of my charm, the love that I had brought to the throne, and of how, in her name, he asked not to be driven from the darkness, but rather to be able to stay. He preferred death to separation from Eurydice. The sweetness of the surface, he said, had nothing to offer him, because in the shadows of the Avernus dwelled the only desire of his heart.
I could not prevent my eyes from filling with tears. Oh, how I understood his feelings, how much I understood what he was talking about, and how unfair it was that I’d been saved, while Eurydice, by sheer bad luck, had been separated forever from her beloved! I could not ignore his pain. We never could.
I knew that I would not have moved, I would not get anything if I did not make him angry, but I also turned to Hades, I, a small queen with a small crown of alabaster splinters, on a large throne twice my size, and said right away:
“That night you saved me and avenged a wrong. I’m not asking for you to go back on your laws, which govern the whole of creation: but if the music of Orpheus manages to touch your heart, at least take his request into consideration?”
The embers in the darkness of Hades’ eyes turned toward me, nothing of his form followed that look:
“The Underworld does not need music, my queen.”
“But I do,” I blurted out, “I beg you, give me the music of the surface world, my husband.”
My soft words fell in a deafening silence. The blue flames of the will-o-the-wisps flickered. Even the Furies seemed to hold their breath, and I’m sure that Orpheus, kneeling to look at the bare stone floor, barely allowed his heart to beat.
As I have just said, Hades’ patience towards me, to my ignorance and my clumsiness, was inexhaustible. He knew not to expect that I become, as goddess of spring, Queen of the Avernus so, as if nothing had happened; but I sincerely believe that much of what he did he didn’t only do to teach me. It was for love, really for love. He never denied me any comfort when he was able to give it to me.
