I will come if you call, Aphrodite once said.
So I called.
The goddess obliged, arriving in the shape of a dove before transmuting into the form of a tall woman. She looked around the windswept desolation with an expression of distaste.
‘It’s early,’ Aphrodite commented with a sneer. ‘I don’t like to be woken up so early.’
I gazed at her, wondering exactly what it was that made a god. She looked almost human, in the same way that a horse shaped from gold might look like a horse formed from clay; the general outlines were the same, but the substance was different. The light of another world seemed to shine on Aphrodite’s flawless features.
The sea roared around the rocks, echoing the thunder of the blood in my ears. ‘I accept your offer,’ I declared. ‘I will serve as your handmaiden, but there must be limits and a clear reward. I want more than a glimpse of Eros if I perform a set number of tasks for you. I want your promise we will be reunited.’
A curved smile bent Aphrodite’s red lips. ‘And what makes you think Eros wants to see you again?’
I flinched. Like an adder, Aphrodite knew exactly how to strike.
‘Whether he does or not,’ I replied. ‘That is for him and me to decide. You will not stand in the way.’
‘Very well,’ Aphrodite said lightly. ‘Three services will you perform for me: Fetch my wool, sort my grain, and bring me a bit of beauty cream. If you complete each of these tasks, I will give you back your wayward Eros.’
I felt the power of the oath settle on me like a yoke upon an ox. Or perhaps it was only the weight of the choice I had made. Either way, it was heavier than I expected.
Aphrodite’s mouth twisted. A spider who has trapped a flyin its web might envy the expression. ‘Oh, I almost forgot to mention,’ she added with vicious delight. ‘The wool is from the Sheep of the Sun in Colchis. The grain is in a pile that reaches to the ceiling of the temple of Demeter. The beauty cream belongs to Persephone, so you’ll have to persuade her to give you a sample, if she lets you into her domain at all.’
I stared at her, the enormity of the labours rendering me mute. I was only mortal, and these were tasks that the gods themselves might struggle to fulfill. Aphrodite might as well have told me to pull the moon from the sky and use it to make cheese.
‘What happens if I fail?’ I whispered.
‘Breaking a deal with a god is punishable by death,’ Aphrodite replied, laughing. ‘A pity about my grandchild, but I’m certain Eros will give me another soon enough, one untainted by mortal blood. I should also mention, you have one week to complete all these tasks. Best of luck!’
Then I was by myself on the high cliff, alone with the crash of the ocean and my own stuttering heart. I wondered if I had jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I took one breath and then another, trying to quell the rising panic I felt at the thought of exactly what I stood to lose. It wasn’t my own death I truly feared, but that of the son or daughter I carried. My palm settled over my belly, that small life I held inside of me.
I heard a whisper upon the wind. A voice seemed to emerge from the rocks themselves, from the grass and earth and everything around me.Go forward, brave soul, it said. The earth and everything upon it will be moved to help you.
Perhaps it was nothing more than my imagination, but the voice brought me back to myself. I was not entirely alone. I still had one friend who might answer me, if he could find it within his heart to forgive me.
I brought my finger to my lips and gave a whistle, one I had learned back at the seaside house when I sought for company. In answer, the breeze stirred. The wind took shape into a familiar figure who let out a yelp of delight at the sight of me. ‘Psyche!’
‘Zephyrus,’ I took a deep breath, steeling myself for recriminations or a renewal of our conflict.
‘I am sorry for what I said,’ I told him. ‘You are not a monster. I know what Hyacinthos truly was to you. I was hurting, and in my grief, I hurt you too.’
I bit my lip. I was not very good at apologies, but I saw nothing in Zephyrus’s bright eyes except happiness to see me.
‘I have been called far worse,’ he said, waving away the memory of those bitter words like dust on the wind. ‘But tell me, have you found Eros yet?’
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I hoped you might help me in this matter.’
Zephyrus’s angular features creased with consternation. ‘I’ve looked everywhere under the sun, but I can’t find a single trace of him.’
I nodded. ‘I have a plan,’ I said. ‘I’ve made a deal with Aphrodite, and if I complete three tasks for her, she will restore him to me. They will not be easy, but with your help I may have a chance.’
I waited with bated breath to hear what Zephyrus would say. I wondered if the wind god would abandon me here, flighty and inconstant as he was.
‘Anything,’ Zephyrus said in a rush. ‘You will have my assistance with anything you need.’
33
Psyche
