Cupid Gets Surprised

Night came. Cupid filled his quiver with an equal number of gold- and leadtipped arrows and flew through the firmament that separated the back of the sky from the front. When he reached the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea, he glided easily above the rooftops, peering into windows until he saw a couple holding hands and kissing. He smiled, strung his bow with a leadtipped arrow, and shot through the open window and into the breast of the woman. Immediately she pushed her husband away, exclaiming, "I'm sick of this. This is all you care about, all you want to do. You don't care about me at all. All you care about is sex!"

The husband looked as if he had just been slapped, which, in a way, he had. "What just happened?" he asked, bewildered. "What did I do?"

Cupid chuckled quietly. "That's where their marriage was going, anyway. I just saved them from wasting a lot of time and energy getting there." Satisfied, he left to find Psyche.

The king's palace was in a meadow at the edge of a large grove of trees just outside the main village. The massive building was dark except for the dim yellow of candlelight from a window on the top floor, at the rear. As Cupid flew toward that light, he took his bow from around his shoulder and a gold-tipped arrow from the quiver. He landed softly on the roof above the room from which the light came. Just as he did, the double doors leading to the balcony opened and out came Psyche, wearing a long white gown as soft as starshine.

Cupid put the arrow against the bow's string. Although he had promised his mother that he would make Psyche fall in love with a hideous man, he knew Venus would be pleased if Psyche was made to appear ridiculous. How he managed to accomplish that was not important.

Psyche went to the balcony's edge and stared up into the night sky. Cupid pulled back on the bow. How much more ridiculous could he make her appear than if she were to be passionately in love with the night sky? All he needed her to do was turn around so he could place the arrow in her heart. But then she spoke:

"O beloved Venus!" she called out in a voice trembling with yearning. "Goddess, please help me. The people mistake me for you. Who could take your place? Certainly not I. I am not worthy to have my name said in the same breath as yours. Do not be angry with me, as nothing would make me happier than to be taken away from all the eyes that look at me with devotion and desire. Please, Goddess. Please help me."

Cupid's arm slowly came down and he released the tension on the bow. He could not believe what he had just heard her say. Those words could not have come from the person his mother had described. This one had no desire to take his mother's place in the hearts of the people. Perhaps there was another palace in the kingdom. But he knew there wasn't. Perhaps this was the good daughter, and somewhere else in the palace was the one of whom Venus had spoken. But, no. She had spoken of how people were mistaking her for Venus. She was Psyche.

Even if he had not understood her words, he would have been moved by her voice, which sounded as if it were singing though it uttered only words. Even Apollo could not coax sounds of such beauty from his lyre.

Was his mother mistaken? As hard as it was for him to believe that Venus could be wrong about anything, he believed she was in error this time. If she had heard Psyche's prayer, she would have seen how mistaken she was. But knowing his mother as he did, he was sure she had not been listening to Psyche's prayer, or anyone else's. Venus did not have much patience for the prayers of humans, especially prayers unaccompanied by offerings, and expensive ones.

He did not know what to do. Should he go ahead and make Psyche the laughingstock of the kingdom because he had promised his mother he would? Or should he go back to Olympus and tell his mother about Psyche and her prayer, tell his mother that she was wrong? Cupid tried to imagine telling Venus she was wrong about something. He wouldn't dare. But he shuddered to think what Venus would do if he disobeyed her.

He raised the bow once more and pulled back on it, waiting for Psyche to turn around. And she did.

She had large dark eyes, straight black hair that hung to her hips and shone like wisdom more ancient than time, a small nose and full lips contained in a heart-shaped face of fragile gentleness and strong sincerity.

She did not look up. If she had, she would have seen what appeared to be a statue of the god Cupid, poised to release an arrow into some mortal's heart. But she saw no one as she reentered her chambers and pulled the double doors closed behind her.

The sound of the doors closing caused Cupid to blink his eyes as if awakening from a spell. His arms came down slowly and he relaxed the tension on the bow. He returned the arrow to his quiver and slung the bow around his shoulder.

He could not believe what he had just seen. No wonder mortals thought she had come to replace Venus. To his amazement, she was, indeed, more beautiful than his mother. She was more beautiful than all the sunrises and sunsets that had been and would be.

A feeling of perfect peace began to permeate his body. For the first time in his eternal life, he wanted to be with someone besides his mother. He wanted to give himself to Psyche's beauty and, thereby, become as beautiful as she was.

Cupid did not understand what had happened to him. If you think about it, that's kind of funny. He was the god of love, but he had never been in love. Love had been a game to him, a game that he controlled with his bow and arrows. But after he saw Psyche, his life would never be again what it had been.

You're probably wondering the same thing I am. What did he see? Let me ask you. What do you and I see when we look at someone and we hear ourselves thinking:

"She is fine!"

"He's hot!"

"I want to get to know her."

"I've got to find a way to get him to talk to me."

Surely Cupid had seen many beautiful women and not been affected. What was different this time? I do not know. I asked the story if it knew, and it didn't. When I think about all the times I have fallen in love (and there have been many, thank Jupiter!), I can remember feeling like I had been startled awake from a sleep I had not known I was in. Have you ever noticed how you feel more alive when you fall in love?

Maybe there are no words to explain what happened to Cupid and what happens to us. That's rather embarrassing for a storyteller like myself to admit. But because I am a storyteller, I know that all knowledge cannot be put into words. When our souls are touched by beauty, words give way to the vocabulary of silence. If we are wise, we submit to what can never be wholly explained or understood. However, if we turn away from the terrifying initiation into the kingdom of soul where beauty is all, we are refusing life.

What choice would Cupid make?

Chapter end