After Psyche left to sit on a boulder and stare at the ground, I approached my old friend.
‘Does love cause them pain?’ I asked feverishly, not bothering with preamble. ‘The humans, I mean.’ The question had chafed my mind ever since I recalled the incident with Anteia. I had to know if she once felt the same pain I did now.
‘Has falling in love with one of them caused you to realize their value?’ Prometheus’s eyes glittered with amusement. ‘You know, a marriage isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to care for humanity.’
‘Don’t be foolish. My love for Psyche is the result of a curse.’
‘You could have done worse as far as love curses go,’ he commented wryly. ‘But to answer your question: yes, the mortal girl you love is like a thousand other mortal girls, all of whom feel pain and happiness. Sometimes love causes one, and sometimes the other – much as it is among the gods. I’m more concernedabout the fact that you’re lying to Psyche.’ It should not have been possible for someone bound and shackled to look stern, but Prometheus managed it.
I glanced at my wife, who was resting her chin on a hand and gazing unfocusedly into the distance. I had never seen her look so thoughtful. ‘It’s safer for her this way,’ I said.
‘Is that what you’ve told yourself? All these vain attempts to keep her in the dark will not ensure she stays at your side. Lies always catch up to you.’
His words carried a bitter truth – one that I had known from the start but tried to ignore. The longer this went on, the more it would hurt both Psyche and me later.
I was growing frantic. ‘But what do I do about it? Nothing can break the curse. An antidote from Aphrodite’s own hand failed to ease the torment.What do I do?’
I thought that Prometheus, lover of mortals, would know the direction I must take, but he remained maddeningly calm. ‘I suppose you simply love her as best you can and for as long as you can, until her mortal soul goes down into the Underworld.’
The words hung in the air between us. I had always known that Psyche was mortal and therefore death threatened to part us, but to hear it said aloud was intolerable.
I shook my head. ‘Even death is no guarantee that the curse would end.’
‘For you, this is true,’ Prometheus said. ‘But Psyche, at least, would be free. The waters of the river Lethe wash away all memories.’
I flicked my tail back and forth uneasily. It was unfathomable, the thought of living on forever as Psyche’s unknowing soul wandered beyond my reach.
‘I wish you happiness nonetheless,’ Prometheus declared.‘Enjoy the time you have together, however brief it may be. All my hopes for you have come to fruition.’
I eyed him. ‘And what were those hopes?’
‘That you would be able to call yourself beloved, to feel yourself beloved upon the earth.’
Strange words, as though he was quoting a poem that had not yet been written. But then again, Prometheus had always been a little mad.
It didn’t matter. As I said farewell and went to collect my wife, the seed of an idea took root in my mind and began to sprout.
As Psyche and I continued our journey over rocky mountain paths, my new plan took shape.
Prometheus had spoken of Lethe, one of the winding rivers of the Underworld. If a taste of those waters was enough to wipe away the memories of a mortal life, what could they do to an immortal? All this time I had been seeking ways toremovethe curse when I should have been trying toforgetit.
The plan was not without its flaws, I knew. There was no guarantee that the Lethe water would remove the curse without scrubbing away all my other memories. But that was a small price to pay to blot out the curse, to free me from this weight that hung like an anchor around my neck. I could not live through the numberless days of my immortal existence with a love-poisoned spirit.
How to get the Lethe water? Gods were not permitted into the Underworld, save for Hades and his bride Persephone, and sometimes Hermes. But Hermes would never help me as long as Aphrodite held her grudge; he’d been infatuated with her for centuries and would do nothing that might displease her. I could call in the favour that Persephone owed me, but I didnot want to trade so valuable a boon for something so small as a cup of water. Then another idea occurred to me.
Psyche.
She, like all mortals, could travel into the Underworld. If she did so while she was still alive, surely she could return just as easily. She could bring me the water of Lethe and break the curse once and for all. I would ask her tonight, I resolved. I knew that she would not flinch from the journey. She had shown unwavering courage during the time I had known her.
And what would happen to her afterwards? Perhaps I would ask Psyche to drink from the waters too and forget she had ever known me. We would part, and she could go back to her life in Mycenae. Aphrodite would not recognize Psyche if she didn’t recognize herself. Psyche could go on to live an ordinary life among her fellow human beings. It would be for the best.
If I tried, I could almost bring myself to believe this. The curse howled within me, but I pushed it back down firmly. I had to free myself, to bring an end to this madness that consumed me.
Psyche
You don’t know who your husband is, do you?
The question haunted me through the long hours of the journey, as we wound through mountain paths rough with tumbled stones. I scrambled over piles of rocks, and in much the same way, I sifted through my thoughts. I was determined to know Cupid better.
