Shimmering Splendor

by Roberta Gellis

  Beryllia shook her head and sighed deeply. “Well, it does not matter. Aphrodite has released you. You are home now and free of him.”

  Psyche felt a slight chill at her mother’s mention of Aphrodite. It might well be that Aphrodite’s intention was to “release” her, as she was known to release some of the sacrificial children. “Free of Teras?” she said. “No, indeed I am not. I do not wish to be free of Teras. I love him dearly.”

  “Love? A monster? A creature so ugly that he must hide in darkness?”

  “Mother, my appearance is more monstrous than his,” Psyche cried. “Poor Teras only frightens or disgusts those who see him. I incite men to lust, to jealousy, perhaps even to war, and women to envy and hate. Which of us is the more monstrous?”

  Beryllia gaped for a moment, then got her mouth under control enough to say, faintly, “That is nonsense. You are beautiful.”

  The truth of Psyche’s words, however, were forced on her mother and on her sisters, who at first also pleaded with her to regard the permission she had received to come home as a pardon from her punishment. Horexea and Enstiktia were sincere enough. Both had suffered nightmares and moments of misery that spoiled their own contentment over the past year. And doubtless the sight of the exquisite jewels, the web-fine chitons and incredibly smooth peploses, the delicacy and fantasy of the real gold thread embroidery on the robes, and Psyche’s descriptions of her house and servants might have lent an extra intensity to their assurances that their sister would be happier if she remained a recluse in her father’s house than returned to be the toy of a monster.

  Under no circumstances would she consent to the life of a recluse, Psyche told them, with such heat and force that the sisters recoiled. The one, single part of her life with her monster that was not perfect, she explained, seeing that she had frightened them, was that although not confined in any way, she was utterly isolated except for Teras.

  Psyche’s father and brothers also urged her to stay. Damianos gave no reason and from his anxious looks he might have spoken out because of concern for her. Her father, Otius, and Gillos did not even trouble to disguise the fact that their only interest in Psyche was to avoid further offense to Aphrodite. The goddess had sent her away and might not want her back. It had not been Aphrodite’s purpose, Otius pointed out, to make Psyche happy, but to punish her; and the feelings of the goddess’s monstrous servant, since he was her servant, were of no account.

  By the second day, Psyche was more than ready to go home to Teras, knowing she would never call Iolkas home again. Here, with a house full of people to talk to, she was lonelier than among her mute servants with the knowledge that Teras was coming. Only she could not go home. There was nothing inside her except a great, empty void. She had not realized when she invoked the spell that she would have to supply the power to make it work, nor how much power it would take. Teras had not mentioned it; perhaps he did not know. Now her little reservoir of power was completely empty, and so much strength had been drained from her that for days she walked very slowly and had to cling to the walls when she went down a flight of stairs. As for going up, she could barely climb at all, except with rests every few steps.

  Had Aphrodite obtained the spell to go and return for Teras and concealed from him how much power the invoker would need? Was that Aphrodite’s subtle way of making Teras believe that his Psyche did not love him and had lied about wishing to come back to him? Well, she would get back, Psyche swore to herself, no matter how long it took to restore her power. She would go back to her teacher of sorcery or seek another who could tell her a way to draw power from elsewhere, even from others.

  In the past Psyche had always feared to try to increase her power lest she be thought dangerous and left in the caves of the Dead as a sacrifice to Hades and Persephone. That was the common fate of the Gifted. What had she to fear now? Psyche thought bitterly. She had already been sacrificed to Aphrodite and no one would dare take her from one god to give to another. But even though she believed herself grimly determined to reclaim enough power to invoke the translocation spell, something inside her closed tighter at the thought, intensifying the ache that called for the warming mist to comfort it.

  As if her family’s suggestions had convinced her to stay, Psyche stopped insisting that she would return to Teras immediately, but it was not long before everyone else had also changed the tunes they had been singing. Events all too soon demonstrated that far more immediate harm would come from keeping Psyche in Iolkas than from sending her back to the goddess.

  Once she discovered mere numbers of people could not provide companionship, Psyche kept to the women’s quarters as much as possible. It was, however, too late to immure herself. The first evidence that matters had got out of hand appeared as soon as Psyche was strong enough and went to seek the witch she knew and to ask directions to others. Although she went heavily veiled, rumor went before her. Townsfolk rushed into the street as soon as she appeared, calling her name, calling her by Aphrodite’s name—as if she were an avatar of the goddess. Psyche was frightened to death and uttered frantic denials that were not heeded. Her only comfort was that Aphrodite was not a god and therefore not omniscient, and that she would be most unlikely to waste her scryer’s time watching townsfolk.

  Unfortunately, it was not only the townsfolk who had an exaggerated idea of her importance to Aphrodite. Anerios had grasped at Psyche’s return to prove he was completely pardoned by the goddess, that he had even become a favorite with her. He sent word to all his nobles and to the neighboring kings hinting that Psyche had been specially blessed. Naturally, most of those he had informed—and not a few to whom they had passed the word—rushed to Anerios’s court to see this marvel.

  It was impossible for Anerios to refuse to show Psyche to them; the last thing he wanted was to seem to hide her, for a rumor to grow that she had not been blessed but had been lessened or even mutilated and then rejected to express Aphrodite’s displeasure.

  Psyche was not pleased and refused at first to be exhibited like a prize heifer; however, when she understood what her father feared would be said if she remained hidden, she agreed to come down to the hall each night until all accepted that she was perfect. What was more, she spoke praises of the kindness and generosity of the goddess Aphrodite and made the point that she was only on a visit to her parents. She would soon return, she insisted, to the kind and indulgent husband to whom she had been married by the goddess’s order. No one doubted her husband’s kindness and indulgence when they saw the richness of her dress and ornaments.

  In her innocence, Psyche had told the tale of her marriage, expecting it would protect her from the men who were already licking their lips as they examined her. To her horror, the knowledge that she was no longer a virgin seemed to stimulate lust even in those who had done their best to ignore her in the past. One night a man lay in wait beside the stairs to the women’s quarters and tried to drag her outside. Having regained her physical strength and learned how to strike in her weapons practice, Psyche knocked him endwise. Another tried to seize her just outside the latrine. At least he furnished Psyche with some amusement; she invited him inside most dulcetly, and when he would have embraced her, tipped him into the filth. Even the princes of Apheta and Olizon, her sisters’ husbands, found opportunities—the one to take her hand and try to pull her close, the other to whisper a lewd invitation—to importune her.

  The next day Horexea said, “I wonder, sister, if the monster is really a monster at all. Did you never think, after you found he was a perfect man to the touch of your hands, that the goddess might have bidden him wear the disguise of darkness so that you would think you were married to a monster? It seems so strange to me that Aphrodite, who is goddess of beauty, should have a hideous monster as her servant.”

  Amused by her sister’s sudden conviction that Teras was not monstrous—which, compared to the lecherous prince of Olizon, perhaps he was not—Psyche said blandly that Teras had told her that Aphrodite used h
im as a servant out of kindness, to protect him. Horexea laughed and shook her head and said she thought Psyche too believing. If she went back, she could dispel the darkness by magic. Doubtless she would discover it was with one of Aphrodite’s beautiful boys that she was lying abed.

  Later in the day it was Enstiktia who idly wondered that Psyche, professing so much love for her Teras, now seemed in no hurry to be restored to the joys she had left. Perhaps it was because no matter what she claimed, Psyche imagined greater horrors than really existed. Rather than abandon so much wealth and luxury, Psyche should try to discover if the monster was truly dreadful. If she found him too repellent, why then, kind Aphrodite had let her come once; surely the goddess would let her come again.

  Two days after that her father told her that one of the neighboring kings had wished to set up a statue to her in Aphrodite’s temple. Hyppodamia had sent a messenger with an angry complaint. “Why did Aphrodite send you here?” her father asked. “Is this some testing of my obedience? Are you opening a way to a greater punishment to us all?”

  With some difficulty Psyche prevented herself from laughing in his face. She strongly suspected that Anerios himself might have hinted his daughter—perfect in her beauty as she was—was an avatar of the goddess. He had hoped for silent awe and an increase in his influence owing to his connection with Psyche. Now he had been trapped in the muck he himself had spread, so he blamed her for his greed and ambition.

  Psyche knew him already and suffered no disillusionment. Since she did not expect to see him ever again, she wanted to know he was at peace, at least with regard to her, so that she would have no further responsibility to him. Therefore, she assured him most truthfully that she fully intended to return to Teras and also assured him, somewhat less truthfully, that the goddess expected her to return and probably would not permit her to visit Iolkas again.

  “Then when will you go?” Anerios asked. “I do not mean to drive you out, but doubtless it would be best if you went back to your monster as soon as possible. You would not wish him to grow impatient, and you did say you wished to be with him.”

  With all impulse to laugh gone, Psyche blinked back tears of fear and frustration and said that she could return only at the time set by the goddess, that she must wait for a sign. She shivered inside with fear when she said the words. She had already been in Iolkas a week longer than she had told Teras she would stay, and she was terrified about his reaction. She could not decide whether she hoped he was too angry at her to grieve or whether she wanted him to miss her grievously and be so glad to have her back that he would not be angry.

  Her eagerness to return made no difference, however; the sign she was waiting for was the strength to invoke the spell. At the moment, she was helpless. Her old teacher could not (or would not) explain how to draw power from the world around her and claimed she had no answer to the inquiries she had sent out to other sorcerers.

  Several times Psyche had thought about going to Aphrodite’s temple to beg the priestess to send word to Aphrodite, and through her to Teras, that she was too weak to invoke the translocation spell. She did not actually go for several reasons. One was that she recalled too vividly Hyppodamia’s horror of her rejection of the goddess. Psyche suspected that her current feeling about Aphrodite, far more personal than her past general resentment and made up of equal portions of distrust and dislike, would be even more offensive to the priestess. Atop that stupid king’s notion that she was a fit subject for worship, the result would more than likely be for Hyppodamia to curse her and cast her out rather than listen to her.

  Even more discouraging was her growing certainty that trapping her in Iolkas had been Aphrodite’s intention and that she would get no help from her. Worst of all, Psyche feared that the message that came to Teras might not be the message she had sent. Maybe, Psyche thought, staring with longing at Mount Pelion in the distance, it would not be so very long before her power was restored. There was still no mist in her well, but the echoing hollowness, the cold brittleness, the feeling she was about to collapse in on herself were all gone. Only the constant small ache that seemed to draw in a mote of mist at a time reminded Psyche of her emptiness.

  * * *

  Eros spent the first two days of Psyche’s absence fulfilling his promise to scour the forest for leagues around the lodge to drive out any animal likely to be dangerous. It was a good time of year to rid the area of bear, which might frighten Psyche or even attack her out of irritability because they were seeking dens, and he could set traps in any likely places that would drive them out. Wolves would not trouble a person until deep snow and starvation drove them to desperation; at this time of year game was too plentiful for that. The only danger might be mountain cats. They came and went as they wished and he could do little about them, but again, there was game in plenty. Usually the great cats clung to the higher crags to prey on the mountain goat and would not come downslope as far as the lodge.

  The third day he kept busy collecting the supplies Psyche had told him she would need to make her creams and syrups for the shop. That night he did not sleep at all, moving restlessly from room to room, expecting her to appear at any moment. On and off he called himself a fool, knowing she would not come at night. She would be afraid to go to the altar on Mount Pelion at night. But he could not sleep.

  He waited at the lodge all the fourth day, telling himself from hour to hour that it took time to get up the mountain and that it was too soon to expect her. When night fell he comforted himself with the notion that she must be enjoying her family’s discomfiture and not realize how much time was passing. He lay down in Psyche’s bed that night. He had hoped the feeling of her nearness would comfort him, but what repeated over and over in his mind was how her caresses had seemed insatiable, as if she were trying to wear him out. But surely that was so he would not desire any woman in the immediate future. That had to mean she knew it would be longer than she would admit before she returned—but that she would return, surely she would return.

  He lived through the fifth and sixth days with diminishing hope, sipping at the bitter draught of rejection, learning anew that old as he was, he was not yet wise. He had taken a woman by force and she had defended herself as women had from time immemorial, by submission and deceit. By the dark of the moon he had stopped reminding himself that Psyche had not been the least submissive, the pain of renewed hope that memories of her brought to him was too acute. It was better to slip back into the little death in which he had lived so long.

  He could not find oblivion in the lodge, however. Every room held memories of Psyche and signs that she had left to assure him she would return—deceit, all deceit. He went back to Aphrodite’s house to lie in his bed and stare sightlessly at the painted walls. On the evening of the fifteenth day—he still counted the days; he could not help that—Aphrodite came and laughed at him, saying she had told him not to meddle with the light-minded natives and that a real man would not yield to obsession but cast off an unworthy feeling attached to an unworthy person.

  “Forget her,” she said, gesturing for the lamps to light, “there are a thousand as beautiful, and if you would only smile at them, you could have them all.”

  She was half smiling, brows raised in challenge, when she turned from the lamps to cast a sly look at him under her lashes. She was ready to offer comfort or to tease him into laughter, but the smile froze on her lips. She had been a little disappointed not to receive a furious answer or a spate of complaints. When he had not spoken, she expected to find him flopped over, facing away from her in silent rejection. What she saw was the face of a madman or an idiot with no sign at all in it that he had heard her. His eyes were blind and his cheeks sunken under a week’s growth of beard.

  “Eros,” she said gently, seating herself on the bed and taking his hand in hers. She shuddered and began to sob. The hand was utterly lifeless, as limp as a dead bird; had it not been warm, she would have thought him a corpse. “Eros,” she cried, turning his fac
e toward her with her other hand.

  Below the half-closed lids a glittering line of tears appeared, but he did not respond to her plea.

  The sobs stopped abruptly. “You are ten times a fool,” she said sharply, although she could have sung with relief at the sight of those tears. “Once a fool for allowing yourself to be bound to this woman, and nine times a fool for giving her up so easily if she is so important to you. You are forever telling me we are not really gods, but you expect a poor native woman, short as is her life and experience, to behave like a god.”

  Eros blinked. “But she said she would return in a few days. If she does not choose to stay with me…” His voice sounded rusty and his lips were so dry that one cracked as he spoke and showed a bead of blood at the split.

  Aphrodite swallowed as the wave of his longing hit her. “She does intend to return, you utter idiot,” she snapped at him. “I have had my scryer look in on Anerios’s palace now and again and—”

  “She intends to return?”

  Eros pushed himself upright and reached for the flask of watered wine set beside the bed. His hand trembled so violently that Aphrodite took it from him and held it to his mouth. He drank long, but then caught at her wrist.

  “If you have told me this to bring me back, you have done the first cruel thing that you have ever done to me—and so cruel that all the good you have done before is as nothing. I will never forgive you, and your trick is useless. I am already dead without her and will take a shorter path to find some peace—”

  “Oh, la, la, la! Play me no more heroics. I cannot read your Psyche’s mind. If she is lying to her family, it is no fault of mine, but she has said over and over that she wishes to return to her Teras—and what in the world made you choose to call yourself ‘monster’ in the old language?”