Dazzling Brightness

by Roberta Gellis

  In the great cave, all made way for her, standing out of her path and bowing respectfully, but there were many smiles, many soft murmurs of praise and gratitude. Persephone drew warmth and strength and pleasure from the love and honor shown her. She did not find the dim light in the huge cavern gloomy. It was soothing to her, quieting after the glare of the sun.

  She walked the length of the cavern, lightfooted with happiness, and saw with surprise that the bronze gates to the palace were open. Persephone hesitated just a trifle as she passed through, past the bowing guards. She had not known that Hades was giving audience today and the messengers from the caverns where trade was conducted were not yet due.

  Usually Hades told her and asked her to sit beside him while he gave orders or made plans; indeed, it was sometimes she who gave the orders if the decisions had to do with the crops or temples or who should serve in the outer world and who be restricted to the caves. Hades dealt with questions regarding the deep mines, trade, and…justice. Persephone shuddered slightly. If some evildoer had been caught, Hades would wish to spare her hearing his crime and seeing justice done.

  She flicked a sidelong glance at the large arch opening into the lesser throne room, but it was dark and the corridor leading into the rock from the arch at the opposite side was quiet. On the right of that corridor, Koios’s door was closed. To the left, light spilled out of Arachne’s apartment. Persephone could not see beyond, so the doors of Hades’s other high servants must be closed. She heard the weaver’s voice chastising some poor novice and recalled that Arachne had asked her to stop in and look at a new length of fabric, but she continued straight ahead, entering the square corridor through the central arch. A servant was just stepping out of the open doorway at the back where a warren of small chambers housed the palace staff.

  Persephone hesitated again in the corridor, hearing voices from the formal reception room entrance on the right, then turned away. She told herself that Hades had a right to conduct private business. He did not follow her to the temple or ask what she did there. She opened the bedchamber door on the left and walked in. The gem-set walls and crystal globes in the chandeliers came alight. She had just taken hold of the door to shut it when she heard Hades say, “Myron, ask the guard whether the queen has yet returned.”

  She stepped out of the doorway at once, smiling, and saw Hades at the entrance to the reception room. “I have just come in, my lord.”

  His face did not light up as it usually did when he saw her. Nor did he invite her to enter the reception room. He waved the servant away, came across, and drew her back into the bedchamber, shutting the door behind them.

  “I have a messenger from the caves at Eleusis there,” he said, gesturing toward the reception room. “He came ahead of his usual time because a woman who looks like you and said she was Demeter, your mother, came to the cave and demanded that I send back her daughter, Kore.”

  She stared up at him, dumbstruck. Hades looked as if he were sitting in the judgment seat. His black eyes were hooded, his face like carven stone, his voice cold and harsh.

  “But it is more than a year,” she breathed. “I had hoped she would have given me up for lost by now.”

  Hades reached out and stroked her arm. “She loves you.” His voice softer, but with a slight tremor. “You do not wish me to yield you?”

  “No, of course not,” Persephone said, her own voice stronger now that he had given evidence that he still wanted her. She had had a moment of horror, wondering whether he was so stiff and cold because he was trying to hide his relief that her mother had found her and he could be rid of her with honor. But she still could not see his thoughts past the black of his eyes, and she said nervously, “There is so much to do. Women come every day to the temple to ask to be priestesses. There are the crops to oversee, new valleys to be opened, the folding of the herds to be considered—”

  “A husband to be loved?” Hades asked, smiling.

  Persephone threw one arm around his neck and kissed him.

  He cocked his head when their lips parted, but she did not speak. She wanted to beg him to lie and say he had not taken her and did not know where she was, but over the year she had lived with him she had learned that what he had told her that first day—that he did not lie—was true. He did not even like to bend the truth and would scowl and look black when she suggested a necessary evasion in dealing with contacts with the outer world.

  Also, she was ashamed to admit she was afraid of her mother. She did not know how to explain that her wider experience, with his love and her observation of others who loved, had taught her how unnatural her mother’s hold on her had been. She thought she could resist Demeter, but recalling her mother’s obsessive hatred of Zeus over Iasion’s death, she feared there were no limits to what Demeter might do to get her back.

  Hades cleared his throat. “I am sorry to have to tell you that your mother was much frightened by the appearance of the messenger.”

  “That is his purpose,” Persephone said, but she felt sick. Normally Demeter avoided ugliness. That she had not fled the horrifying spectacle a messenger presented but had persisted in demanding the return of her daughter boded ill.

  “What I mean is that such a sight might make her more frantic to ‘rescue’ you from the horrors of your life among the dead.”

  That was true. Persephone’s spirit lightened and she chuckled. “All those horrors, like a golden bed with a warm man in it, and clothes befitting a goddess, and enough jewels to crush me flat if I decided to wear them all at once. Oh, how I suffer!”

  “Yes, but your mother does not know that,” Hades said, smiling but shaking his head. He hesitated and added slowly, “Do you wish to go with the messenger and assure her that you are well and happy?”

  “No!” Persephone exclaimed. “Hades, you do not know my mother. If she saw me, she would try to seize me.”

  Hades put an arm around her and drew her close, leading her with him to a cushioned bench just beyond the gem-picture of the waterfall. They both sat, he with one arm still holding her while the other hand tilted her face up to his.

  “None can take you from me if you do not wish to go.”

  She sighed. “You do not know her persistence. How did she learn where I was? How did she get to Eleusis? She has never before left Olympus as many of the great mages do. She said she never would. I fear she has been seeking me for the whole year.”

  Hades shrugged. “I cannot really blame her. I would seek you for a hundred years if you should be lost to me and tear the earth apart until I found you.”

  Comforted, Persephone snuggled closer. “That is different. It is natural for a man and wife to cling together. A mother must let go of her daughter.”

  “True enough, but Demeter does not know that you have found a husband who loves you. We have been foolish, and unkind too, I think. Likely it is her terrible fear that you are frightened and unhappy that has driven her to search so long and so hard.”

  “Perhaps,” Persephone agreed, feeling guilty about her mother’s grief but still reluctant to have any contact with her.

  Hades shook his head. “She will never believe any message we send her. It is best that she see you and see that you are happy and do not wish to leave Plutos. I will send a different messenger—Ixion, who is a smooth-tongued rogue—dressed all in jewels and gold, and I will invite her to come visit you—with a promise that she may return to Olympus or any other place within reason.”

  After a silence, Persephone sighed again. “I suppose that would be best,” she said. She heard the flatness in her voice and found a smile. “That is very kind of you, Hades, but is it not likely that she will learn more than you wish her to know about our land and our people?”

  “She will see very little and certainly not come close enough to touch any of the ‘dead’.” His lips thinned into a grim smile. “We have visitors from the outer world from time to time and have ways to deal with them. None of them have shown any inclination to ling
er or return.”

  “If you are sure her visit will do Plutos no harm…”

  His smile warmed to gentleness and delight. “I am glad you have found my land and my people so”—he chuckled—“so palatable. Do you remember when you asked me if you would? Palatable! As if Plutos was something to eat.” He laughed again, louder. “That was not long after you wanted my heart baked or broiled!”

  Persephone changed another sigh to a chuckle. Clearly he did not recognize her reluctance to have her mother as a guest. In any case, she was being very silly. Demeter could not drag her out of Plutos against her will. And Hades was quite right. It would be best to convince her mother, who did love her, that she was content—more than content—happier than she had ever been in her life. Dear Hades, he probably would give her his heart baked or broiled if she wanted it.

  “I have changed my mind,” she said, stretching up to kiss him. “I will take your heart any way you want to offer it, but I like the boom, boom it makes by my ear when we lie together, so I hope you will keep it where it is.”

  Hades looked somewhat startled but immediately bent his head to return her kiss. A moment later his hand slid up her arm to pull the pin that held her gown at the shoulder. His mouth followed the cloth downward as it fell. Every touch was a delight, but Persephone found time before his lips reached their goal and completely bewildered her to undo the clasp that held his broad collar. That fell, too, slipping down his chest and then off his thigh onto the bench—which was just as well, for he rose to his feet a moment later, lifting her so that his lips could cling to her breast, and he would surely have trodden on the collar unaware if it had dropped to the ground.

  He stood arched above her after he had laid her on the bed, his mouth moving to the other breast when he had that bared, his fingers keeping the first nipple hard and erect. His other hand teased open the knot of her girdle and then began to work her gown down. She lifted herself toward him, and the gown slid past her back and hips and was gone.

  Her breath was coming hard and fast through parted lips, but she was not yet lost to all beyond the sensations of her body. She still knew what she needed and she did not want to wait while he pulled off his clothes. Resisting the urge to press his head tighter, she used her hands to unbuckle his jeweled belt and pull loose the tie of his kilt, catching both and flinging them away, grasping his hips and pulling him toward her. He needed no further invitation, but set a knee on the bed and straddled her. Before he could lower himself, she ran her hands, fingers curved to scratch—oh, so lightly—along the hollow where the thigh meets the groin. Hades flung up his head and groaned, groaned again when her hands met and drew him into her.

  Nonetheless, he lowered himself slowly, beginning to tremble as her hands slipped out of the way, up along the path they had previously taken. Still, when he was lodged he lay quiet. She would have none of that. She writhed beneath him, wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing him deeper, relaxing and pulling away, and then pushing upward again. He could not resist that; moaning, he began to move with her.

  “Stop, love,” he gasped after a few minutes. “Stop. I cannot—

  The warning was unnecessary. Persephone was not listening and her voice drowned his as she heaved against him more violently, precipitating the explosive climax he had been struggling to control. Emptied, Hades lay flat, unable for the moment to do more than breathe.

  After another few minutes Persephone said faintly, “You are forever telling me I am not a wraith. Neither are you.”

  “Sorry,” Hades muttered. “I am too tired to move. Just give me a push and I will fall over.” He did, however, lever himself up and roll onto his back. After another few moments of silence, he asked, “What brought that on?”

  At first Persephone did not reply. Then she said, “I just wanted you. When you said that about baking or broiling your heart I—I remembered how good you have been to me.”

  “A very fitting expression of gratitude,” Hades said.

  He was smiling, and he closed his eyes as if to sleep, but despite the effort he had expended he did not now feel sleepy. The brief explosion of passion was not at all like Persephone’s usual behavior. Not that she was reluctant in his bed, but she had developed a taste for refinement in lovemaking. She did not grab and rush to climax, as a child seized and devoured a sweet it thought might be denied it. His teeth set when he realized he had inadvertently defined his sense of unease.

  Once it was clear in his mind, however, he was certain the explanation of her haste was correct. But it was impossible that Persephone should fear he would be snatched away. That she might be snatched from him? The tenseness that had crept into his muscles eased as he recalled that she had warned him several times that her mother would persist in trying to get her back.

  Hades drew a deep breath of pure satisfaction. She had become all and everything to him, so much so that he was often racked with senseless fears. Every now and then she seemed to look inside herself or away into nothing and he would begin to wonder whether she really cared for him or had only accepted her state as captive with good grace. His eyes opened and he smiled. Good grace did not include what had just happened between them.

  The strength was coming back to his limbs and he was suddenly eager to meet and overcome the last threat to his happiness. He turned his head to tell Persephone what he intended, but she had not recovered as quickly as he and seemed to be asleep. Then he thought better of his notion. Her trouble was that she was used to Demeter always getting her own way.

  Well, Demeter might be high priestess in Olympus, but she had no power in Plutos. Still, she would make less trouble once she had seen that Persephone was happy and had every luxury any woman could desire. But he need not distress Persephone by talking about her mother. He would arrange Demeter’s visit as a surprise, and when Persephone saw first that her mother was powerless in Plutos and second that she recognized her daughter was safe and well, Persephone’s fears would be removed.

  Hades eased himself from the bed gently, drew the cover over his wife, and picked up his kilt, belt, and collar. Decently clad, he went out and sent a servant for Ixion, to whom he explained the situation.

  “So you must dress as richly as a king, as richly as you can without looking ridiculous. You are to say these words exactly to Lady Demeter: Hades, King of Plutos, has, with the permission of her father Zeus, taken to wife the Lady Persephone—not an unnamed Kore—and Persephone is now Queen of Plutos and high priestess of the Goddess in her own temple.”

  “Will that pacify her?” Ixion asked. “Just words? No matter how richly I am dressed?”

  “I do not expect it, which is why you are to use your own words and your best powers of persuasion to invite her to visit her daughter for as long or as short a time as will please her.” Hades took a magnificent ring, a gold-set cabochon-cut ruby dark as blood, from his finger and passed it to Ixion. “Give her this as my pledge that she may enter Plutos, stay safe in Plutos, and be escorted out of Plutos to any reasonable place, including Olympus, at her own will.”

  “I doubt she will reach for it across the blood trough. Shall I step over? She may know me from that little…ah…disagreement I had with Zeus. She always watched closely anything to do with him.”

  The black of Hades’s eyes was suddenly bottomless. “Do not try the little game you played with Hera with Queen Persephone. I do not have Zeus’s bad conscience to make me equally merciful.”

  Ixion swallowed hard. “Queen Persephone would not waste spit on me,” he said.

  “Perhaps not,” Hades replied with a smile that brought cold beads of sweat to Ixion’s brow. Then the rictus of his lips softened. “However, if you can tempt the Lady Demeter, I would not mind at all—and Zeus would probably forgive you your trespass and invite you back to Olympus.”

  Relieved, Ixion laughed. “I will do my best,” he promised, “but I am not sure I wish to return to Olympus. I would rather have my own valley for crops and herds—that one beyo
nd the blue-light cave—” He stopped because Hades had raised a finger.

  “There is time to consider that,” Hades said. “First accomplish your task.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “You cannot step over the trough or your fine clothes will turn to rags and your jewels to dry turds. However, you can reach your arm across to her. She will see the change in your sleeve and your rings, but my ring will remain what it is and your hand will also remain strong and healthy.”

  “That will help,” Ixion agreed.

  Hades nodded. “Say anything you like to calm her and assure her. My only purpose is to convince her that Persephone wishes to remain here. That means Lady Demeter must not be exposed to any horrors. I will furnish you with crystals that will provide light, and it is only a candlemark of walking to the river. You will have to take her north in one of the boats that carry the trade goods, drug her so she will sleep during the passage between the rivers, and then bring her up the Styx. I will have watchers to warn me and I will meet you in the lower cave, making sure it is all alight. I can bring her up to the palace myself.”

  Once Ixion was on his way, Hades put the problem of Demeter at the back of his mind. It would be almost a moon before she could arrive in Plutos and a hard life had taught him not to look for trouble before it arrived on its own. He was not surprised that Persephone never asked him what message he had returned to her mother’s demand nor that she seemed a trifle uneasy for the first few days. Her reactions seemed to confirm what he had decided about her feelings.

  As time passed, however, he was puzzled when she did not grow calmer but instead began to cling to him as she had not done since her first few days in Plutos. Instead of going to the temple or discussing and planning with Koios the winter accommodation for the pigs or other such matters, she would often sit in his workroom, just watching him. At night she would creep back into his arms to sleep after they had made love or sometimes wake him to couple a second time.