The Queen of Flowers and Roots

by Io

  But I think he also had another consideration, less noble and more selfish: he knew how it would end, I did not. If he had denied me what I had asked, I would have blamed him for everything, hoarding resentment for who knows how long. By acting as he acted, he did not make me pull away from him, and indeed, it was from him that afterwards I sought refuge to be consoled.

  I did not know all this then. I felt only that I had been pierced by the glowing eyes of the lord of the underworld, before he turned from me to Orpheus and, flatly, ordered:

  “Play.”

  We let out a sigh of relief almost at the same instant, Orpheus and me. Then he took up his harp from beside him, tuned it and started playing.

  The myth has confused many of the events, and there is at least one other that I must tell in the opposite way in respect to how it has been handed down, but in this the report is accurate and timely. The music of Orpheus sounded echoing in the halls of the Underworld, sweet and yearning, every sound a gold rope that wove into another, and in the end it was the splendor that dazzled. The will-o-the-wisps were motionless, like torches that illuminated the shadows of the colonnade. The Furies whimpering, crouched behind me.

  The music of Orpheus was vibrating inside me, and the frost of the stone had become the hot sun of spring, the audience hall an open meadow, under the blue sky; hell itself seemed to stop every pending execution, not because of magic, but only to hear the heavenly voice of the son of Calliope.

  Wonderful, incomparable Orpheus.

  Sounding eternally in the Elysian fields next to your beloved, now, and your lyre induces even the lord of the Avernus to stop pacing, to listen. No one else has ever been able, or will ever succeed.

  The last sweet notes vibrated on the tip of his fingers, and then silence fell.

  My face was in my hands, I was crying uncontrollably. I had to have been made of stone not to be moved, before Orpheus. I believe that if Hades had made him leave in that moment, I would have turned against him, I would have fought him, not in dispute, but really at war. The music of Orpheus was an absolute master, more love, more than death.

  Hades, in all probability, had already thought this through. During the playing of the music he had not moved, and seemed unmoved as ever, but now I knew him well enough; he had been touched. Any one on hearing the melody it had brought back memories, any emotion that had been aroused in him, could not be ignored.

  “Orpheus.” He said, then paused, as if he needed to collect his thoughts.

  I wiped my face and succeeded, now that the music was silent, to compose myself at least partly.

  “Orpheus,” Hades repeated, “if I were to deny that your music has been able to captivate my kingdom, from Tartarus to the Elysian fields, I would be the most shameless and despicable liar. A deal is a deal, and I, as the god who presides over the oaths and punishes perjurers, I will not go back on my word.”

  I watched with bated breath.

  “You can take Eurydice among the living.” Orpheus gasped. A memory

  of man, the event was unprecedented.

  “She will follow you,” continued my husband, “you turn around and

  go back along the road that brought you here, never turn back, because these realms are not meant for the eyes of the living. You must not speak about what you have seen here to anyone who is living, on pain of eternal damnation for both. Behind you, near by, there will be the shadow of Eurydice, but beware: if, even just once, you doubt my word, you will lose her again, and this time for ever. Do you understand?”

  Orpheus’ hands trembled, as he put away his harp and wrapped it in a soft cloth.

  “I have understood, o divine one. Not even with music could I express my gratitude for your generosity.” Hades did not accept his thanks, either with words or with a nod.

  “Now go, and remember my warning. You will not have

  another opportunity. If you turn back, you will see your wife only after you die.”

  Orpheus stood up, bowed to Hades, then, much more profoundly, to me who had been so persuasive. He looked around, looking for the shadow of Eurydice, but Hades had been clear, and there was nothing left for him to do but leave the room. How stiff his shoulders were, I realized it was an ordeal for him to resist the temptation to turn around to make sure it was really her.

  I could have reassured him: Eurydice, pale and diaphanous, but beautiful and happy as only a wife who is truly beloved can be, came out of the shadows between the columns and followed him out the door.

  When the sounds of Orpheus’ steps had faded into the distance, Hades rose. I hastened to follow him.

  “Thank you.” I whispered as he left the two-pronged pitchfork on the throne, indicating that the king had left, but not his power.

  He passed me without a word. I did not mind: I did not care to argue, as long as Orpheus and Eurydice were happy again, together. The evil caused by Aristaeus had been healed completely, and that was enough for me.

  In the hallway, I repeated my thanks, and added that I knew he had violated his own laws, that meant a lot to me, and...

  “I have not violated anything.”

  His voice was terse. When I passed him, to place myself in front of him, and to have more of an explanation, I saw his face was somber, under the shadows cast by the crown of spines.

  “What do you mean?” You let the dead return to the land of the living...”

  “It won’t happen.”

  I stared at him in horror. The words came out of me full of accusations:

  “You liar, you lied!”

  Hades narrowed his eyes, and that was enough to scare the Furies and make them fly away, leaving us alone.

  “Don’t you dare ever again, Persephone.” He said, in a deadly calm voice.

  I managed to hold his gaze for just a brief moment. I had spoken on impulse, without weighing my words, and that was the Avernus. Every breath had the weight of eternity.

  “I beg your pardon,” I murmured, “but couldn’t you explain?”

  “These things never end well,” said Hades, implicitly accepting the apology, “the living do not believe that the dead can return to each other. Orpheus will fail to bring Eurydice to the surface. No mortal has ever succeeded.”

  “You’ve... you’ve already made this concession, in the past?”

  “Long ago, at the beginning of time. But it is not an undertaking that a mortal is able to accomplish: they are mortals for this reason.”

  I bit my lip, realizing that Hades, before becoming what he was, had been like me. He had wanted to make everyone happy, before realizing that this simply was not possible. Now he ruled, no more energy wasted to achieve the unachievable.

  It was too cynical for me to accept it. I said, passionately:

  “But he could succeed. Mortals sometimes surprise us. What is so impossible, in retaking the road that he has already taken once before?”

  “I don’t know how to answer. The gods are not made to understand mortals.”

  “I would have said the opposite.”

  “Zeus, my brother and your father, govern them and have still failed to understand them. It is only after death, when they pass over the infernal waters, are we able to come closer to their essence, but not very much. They will always be a mystery for us, much more than we will be for them. Even our power has limits.”

  He continued on his way and passed me, disappearing into the dark corridor. I was alone, confused and upset.

  I thought of Orpheus, who at that time was climbing the thousand steps, the lyre under his arm and with stiff shoulders, with the effort to resist the temptation, and I prayed, I prayed with all the strength I could muster, that Hades was wrong. Mortals sometimes surprise us. I prayed that this was one of those times.

  But Orpheus had already surprised us once, with his music. To surprise us again would have been paradoxical. In his veins blood flowed, not ichor.

  What happened is known.

  When I saw the shadow of Eurydice get
down again from Charon’s boat, as light as a petal on the Elysian fields, sad and yet smiling at how much she had been loved, I realized that I could not even cry.

  I took refuge in the arms of Hades, and he held me and not a word fell from his lips about what had happened, but my eyes remained dry. I never asked to pardon anyone, among the many who implored us.

  The throne of the Avernus is painful. Hard, and cold and grants no mercy.

  Even to those who sit upon it.

  Theseus and Pirithous

  There was one occasion when I saw Hades really in a rage.

  The lord of death is thoughtful. Relentless, therefore patient, and after knowing him well, I would dare call him ‘serene’. I was his only weakness, but I had no doubt that if he assumed I would be a problem for him, instead of a queen, nothing would have happened. Believe me it was part of his love: if I had not been deemed worthy, he would not have bothered with me. Even his passion is the result of his thoughtfulness, and anger is the enemy of that reflection. He will not yield to you or indulge you, unlike other deities.

  But that one time he was angry was enough to make me understand why even Zeus did not have the courage to go against the Lord of the Underworld.

  It began as an ordinary day.

  We had breakfast on the terrace beyond which the eternal dawn rose over the Elysian fields. I still had to force myself to eat, and after a few bites, found that I’d usually had enough. The bread and fruit of the Avernus did not taste much different from those I knew on the surface but, I thought to myself, they had to be different. They were the food of the Underworld, and it was certainly not ambrosia. My body had to get used to it.

  I picked at it like a bird, under the eyes of Hades who made no comment, but I knew, nothing escaped him. His burning eyes made me uncomfortable, as though he had found me doing something wrong like every time I placed a full bite into my mouth.

  I tried to divert his feral attention, “You’re growing a beard.”

  “I know.”

  “It suits you.”

  “Thank you.” I drank a little of the infusion, to disguise the fast and because making small talk with him was almost like sharing his bed.

  I asked him if he had time to accompany me to the brook; I loved to walk in the Elysian fields, and I had not realized for some time that, without being encouraged to do so, Hades didn’t even leave the palace. Sometimes he left for a day or two, with a few brief explanations about commitments in the Underworld, and he certainly didn’t stay to watch me while I was engaged in embroidering or weaving, but generally we were always together. I lost the fear of appearing too noisy and talkative, even though I was almost always doing the talking. It was obvious my company was welcome to him, because if he could not tolerated me, he would have simply avoided meeting me. The Underworld is a vast realm.

  When we were outside the walls I took off the sandals to enjoy the grass under my bare feet, as I always did. I could hardly bear to wear shoes, and only kept them for the cold floors of the court: as soon as I could, I took them off.

  “You should also try it,” I invited him, “it is pleasant and liberating on these fields.”

  “No, thank you.”

  I told him that he was boring, always so stiff and staid, and I took him by the arm, laughing. He pulled it back, without saying anything about my lack of composure. If I tried to prod him he always managed to put me back in my place, but when I was affectionate with him I disarmed him completely.

  Hades always respected protocol to the letter, and in this I don’t think it was so much from courtesy, as it was from the desire to keep his distance: for the first time, rather than kneel before him, I threw my arms around him and kissed him, he was so stiff that I had thought to have done

  something wrong. But he had not given up holding me tight, and in the end held me in a brief hug before taking me by the shoulders to move me away. He had not commented.

  With time, he more or less adapted to my expressions of affection, which must have seemed strange and out of place. And they were. I was strange and out of place in that realm of shadows, of irrevocable judgments, of creatures that have inhabited human nightmares since the dawn of time. I was the strange queen who had never been seen before.

  Unfortunately, I was also the least credible for those who thought they could decide my fate, as I soon found out.

  I sat down on the banks of the stream and invited him to do the same. So as not to remain silent, which I knew would happen, because Hades spoke only when he had something to say – and there are those who believe that this is a virtue, have never shared their lives with someone who really only opens his mouth when he needs to communicate something – I asked for clarification on a topic that would persuade him to be at least a little talkative.

  “I saw that all the damned have an end, to their punishment: between a hundred or a thousand or ten thousand years, everyone will be received, if not here in paradise, at least in the meadow of asphodel, right?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, “and when the last of the damned has the last absolution, will begin an era that the Fates cannot see beyond.”

  Once I had gone into the underground grotto where the Three spun, wove and cut, tirelessly. They had totally ignored me, and I didn’t have the courage to speak to them. The warps hung everywhere all seemed to be the same, and after a brief tour to try to understand them, I had gone, trying to look dignified and not as though I was running away.

  “And the cycle will begin again?”

  “This we cannot know.”

  “It would be nice,” I said, “if life were to follow death. It always has been like that, in the world.”

  “In this world. In a new world, in which we won’t exist, there is no way of knowing.”

  I thought that only Hades could remain so calm, knowing that even the immortality of the gods had a limit.

  “Therefore also the concept of eternal damnation is relative, right? Even the most wicked of mortals, will eventually, achieve happiness.”

  “An end that is really very far away, Persephone. If it is like that for us immortals, for a mortal it is a time so long away that even their whole mathematical science would be unable to calculate it. Eternal damnation, for them, is seriously eternal.”

  I gathered my legs under me and I leaned over to hold a little fresh water in the hollow of my hand. At least, now, I could drink without feeling sick.

  “One would have to be really wicked, to be damned for all eternity. The icy abyss of Tartarus is not as large as I thought.”

  “The eternally damned are not all there: you can find them at every level, of course excluding the Elysian fields. It depends on their crime.”

  “And what is the most unforgivable crime? One that erases any possibility of your thinking about it again?”

  “Nothing is more unforgivable than hubris, and hubris is more unforgivable than shedding the blood of a god.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said impatiently, “I was speaking about the crimes of mortals, not those who commit them against us. What do you consider the worst?”

  “There are several, and each one will upset you all day, my queen.”

  “I believe that it is now difficult to upset me, Hades,” I said, with a certain malice, “the time when all it took to frighten me was for a sacrifice on your altar at Elis, has past.”

  “But you don’t ask the mortals, nor willingly descend into the underworld, to rule the creatures that control them.”

  I did not say that I like them...” I began, but he interrupted me because Night, disheveled and dressed in her black robe, frayed at the edges, was coming down towards us.

  As she passed, the flowers on the grass reclined their heads and closed their petals. All around, instead of the eternal dawn, the stars could be seen, like a halo that accompanied her wherever she went. Her face was pale, angular, and it was not pleasant, but, I had noticed for some time, her eyes were beautiful. When she turned them on you, so black and dee
p, shadowed by the long curved eyelashes, one felt a great peace descend, a sense of rest that was the reward from the fatigue that had been borne until then. After she passed, the flowers opened their petals again, and seemed to be even more colorful than before.

  She stopped at a respectful distance from us, staying upright. She was not required to kneel, and when she did it was only as a courtesy. The daughter of Chaos, even older than the gods of Chronus, remained loyal to the King of the Underworld because she wanted to, not because it was imposed. Hades is a ruthless and inexorable sovereign, but has never made a judgment that was not just: a quality that renders him hated by the living as much as he is loved by those who exist on the other side of the world, such as Night. As for me, I had the impression that she felt more sympathetic towards me.

  “Your Majesty,” she began, with her ungainly yet soothing voice, “there are relatives who are asking to be received at the entrance of the Avernus.”

  Hades, who was seated on the grass leaning on one elbow, pulled himself up. “Who is it?”

  “The king of Athens and the king of the Lapiths, sons of Poseidon, respectively, and of the Heavenly Father.”

  “My brothers continue to sow offspring, eh?” He turned to me, to explain:

  “Theseus, the hero who killed the Minotaur, and his inseparable friend, Pirithous, with whom he went on mission with the Argonauts. Our relatives. We cannot drive them from our house.”

  I had no intention, in fact, I was pleased to receive visitors; but Hades, of course, prevented access to anyone, unless he felt morally compelled to open the doors. It wasn’t often, but always all too frequently, for his taste.

  He reached out to help me up.

  “Don’t talk to them about what you have seen and learned here,” he said, while we were returning, “the secrets of the Underworld must not belong to the living.”

  And that, I thought, took away nine-tenths of the topics of conversation. I expected an extremely boring banquet. I hoped at least to be able to have news of my mother, my sisters, my friends the nymphs. Who knows, how upset Cyane was about what happened...