Chapter 16 - Psyche

I never thought I'd see my own funeral. But less than two days after my father returned from Delphi, that's exactly where I found myself.

The wheels of the wagon cart jostled me over the rough stone roads as we made our way south to the top of the craggy hills that lay beyond the City gates. We left the palace before dawn, surrounded in blackness. I tasted blood as I chewed and shredded the inside of my cheek.

With every bounce of the cart I could feel the rough black shroud I wore scrape against my skin. The predawn air was too cool for such a thin dressing, causing an involuntary shudder to crawl up my spine like a spider. The golden hoops in my ears and around my neck felt too heavy. As I locked my grasp on the edges of the cart for balance, the weathered wood splintered and ground into my hands.

At the front of the procession, the hired mourners played shrill and sorrowful music on their flutes. Of course I knew the music. I'd been to funerals before. But something about the songs this time were even more grating. A painful reminder of the death-like fate that awaited me at the top of the hill.

Mixed with the flutes were the mournful wails of my family. Walking just behind the cart, my mother moaned and wailed; pitiful sounds that didn't even form words.

My father and male cousins marched ahead of the cart. They too samented, uttering low moans over and over. With them, they led a massive black bull that would be sacrificed as part of the funeral ritual. His hooves, combined with the footsteps of the two mules that pulled my cart, created a rhythmic drum beat tying all of the other horrific sounds together.

I could smell the livestock ahead of me, a rancid mixture of old hay and manure. The thick, dank odor of the oil lamps leading the procession wafted back, stinging my nose with every breath. Second to these pungent aromas, but present nonetheless, was the slightly sweet smell drifting up from the honey cake that sat precariously on my lap.

Because the Pythia's prophecy was so vague, we weren't sure if I was actually facing death, or if my fate would simply be as dire as death. In any case, my father had insisted I carry the cake in case I did find death at the top of the hill. I would need the honey cake to feed Cerberus, the three- headed dog who guarded the Underworld. No shade passed him by unless they distracted him with food. I also had a coin to pay Charon -- just in case.

As my procession neared the top of the hill, the sun began to rise. It glowed so brilliantly it was almost white, surrounded by an aura of red and
orange. Outside of the brilliant glow, the remainder of the sky was a milky purple, like no color I'd ever seen in the heavens before. As I stared at the sky in awe, a massive eagle soared across the horizon, drifting from left to right. I knew both the eagle and its course foretold good luck, but I didn't dare place my hope on the wings of a bird.

My cart came to a sudden stop at the top of the bluff. I looked down from where I sat to see my mother racing up from behind the procession. She groped for my hand until she held it tight, but she was trembling. Her face was matted with dust and dirt that had caked on her tear-soaked face.

I looked back to the beautiful morning sky to steel my courage and then climbed down from the cart, careful not to drop my honey cake or coin. Mother wrapped me in her arms and began sobbing on my shoulder. I wanted to cry with her, but I was too numb for the tears to come.

Eventually I pushed her away and passed her off to Maia. I knew she would hold Mother until the world ended if that's what she needed.

I'm not sure I even knew where I was going, but I pressed forward through the crowd of mourners until I reached the head of the procession.

Father had just sacrificed the black bull. Its blood surged from the slit in its throat and spilled over the rocky ground, eventually pooling around my sandals. Reaching down, I stroked the dead animal's massive head. I was sorry it had to give its life so that I could be properly buried -- or whatever was about to happen.

Father handed off his knife to one of the other mourners and turned to me. He cupped my face in both his hands. The tears he had worked so hard to hold back two days ago spilled freely down his face.

His pain broke my numbness and hot tears of my own bubbled up and slipped down my cheeks.

"Goodbye, Father," I whispered.

"I'll stay with you until it comes," he answered. The pain in his voice was obvious.

"No. please go. You don't need to see this"

My father dropped his head and shook it side to side in protest.

"Please," I insisted. "I want you to have happier memories of me."

Father looked into my eyes for the longest time. It was as if he were searching my soul to see if I could do this alone. At last, he pulled me into a tight embrace and covered my forehead and cheeks with kisses.

"You'll never know how sorry I am, Psyche. I wish I'd paid more attention; counseled you better. You don't deserve to die for your mistakes."

"Don't. Please don't do this." I shook his shoulders gently and squeezed. "You can't blame yourself for my choices. And Mom needs you to be strong for her right now, okay?" Giving him a pep talk actually made me feel better somehow.

His eyes scrunched closed and his forehead was wrinkled in anguish. "I love you," he whispered.

I stood up on my toes and kissed his cheek. "I love you too, Daddy. Now go. I need to meet my fate alone."

Slowly, he released my hands and backed away. When our fingertips fell apart, I knew that was the last time I would ever feel him again.

I watched him and the procession depart for only a moment before I turned my back on them all and looked out over the horizon.

The sun had climbed higher in the sky and the red-orange hue was nearly faded away. In its place was a steely bluish-gray. Then the wind picked up, swirling my shroud around my legs. My hair whipped, slapping my face and sticking to my wet lashes.

As I pulled a strand of hair from my mouth, I saw what looked like a wet cloud descending on me. The cloud swooped behind me and caught me like a cushion as a gust of wind blew me backward. Suddenly, I was in the air and flying out over the edge of the hill. I hadn't even had time to scoop up my coin or honey cake before being launched into the sky. I looked down as we flew and knew that if I fell, I'd be dead.

I really wished I'd held on tighter to that coin and cake.

The cloud swooped into the valley below. When we neared the ground, the cloud dropped me so quickly that I didn't have time to get my feet planted. I fell face forward into the dirt and scrambled to roll over. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, my heart thundered as I readied myself for the monster's attack.

I even thought I might be ready to fight.

But no fight came and no attacker appeared. Instead, I heard a low, booming voice that seemed to come from all around me.

"It has been my pleasure to escort you to your new home. Your palace awaits."

Looking back over my shoulder, I saw a palace so magnificent it made me gasp. The alabaster walls were blindingly white. Even without the sun's rays, they sparkled as if encrusted with a million diamonds. And the roof was the purest gold, glistening like no drop of rain had ever fallen on its eaves.

Each of the massive columns supporting the roof was an intricately carved figure. Some were beautiful women, with their dresses billowing around them. Others were athletic young men displaying their muscled brsos. The two center columns, leading to the massive entrance doors, each had two figures. On one, a man and a woman were locked in an embrace, taring deeply into each others' eyes. On the other, the couple was kissing in gentle and soulful way.

It took me awhile to process the sheer enormity and beauty of what was seeing. I can't even say how long it was that I sat there staring awe- truck at the palace.

When I finally came back to my senses, I told the invisible voice, Are you who I'm supposed to be meeting here?" I thought that sounded considerably better than are you the one holding me prisoner?

The voice laughed as loud as thunder. "No, my lady. I am but your humble servant. You may call me Favonius, or simply the West Wind."

I should've been shocked at having a discussion with air particles. Instead, I asked, "My servant? Does that mean you can carry me back home?"

"No," he answered. "I serve you only because I serve him. He would not appreciate my stealing you away."

I'd known even before asking that the answer would be "no." Still, I twitched my nose to hold back the fresh tears I felt coming on.

"Do not despair, Psyche," he said, and then was gone. As Favonius left, the haze that had filled the valley lifted as quickly as if it was being pulled away on the tail of a comet. The sun now radiated all around me and the magnificent palace that lay before me glittered invitingly.

Which reminded me of another one of Mother's sayings: if something appears too good to be true, it probably is.

Chapter end