Psyche's Second Task

Psyche slept well that night, even if her bed was the cold dirt floor of anarrow room in the basement. She had not expected to sleep at all, but she had. Although she feared what Venus would ask her to do next, she was also relieved to no longer be wandering aimlessly looking for Cupid. Maybe he was here in his mother's house and would come to her rescue. But what need would a god as beautiful as Cupid have of her? However, she had felt his love and was carrying his child. That had to mean something to him.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her reverie. The door opened. A servant holding a candle beckoned for Psyche to follow her. When they reached the main floor, Psyche blinked her eyes against the brightness of the light streaming through the palace windows. The servant put Psyche in a small room where there was a large bowl of fruit.
"You are to eat," the servant said, and then left.

Psyche had just finished the last piece of fruit when the door opened and Venus walked in.

"I'm glad to see that you ate. I wouldn't want you to faint and deprive me of my vengeance. Come! I don't know who helped you sort the grains and seeds, but whoever it was won't be able to help you today. Follow me."

Venus took Psyche into the countryside. They walked until they came to a grove of trees on the banks of a stream.

"You see those trees?" Venus said, pointing.

Psyche nodded.

"If you look closely, you will see sheep with fleece of gold."

Psyche nodded again.

"Bring me some of the wool," Venus commanded, and then left.

That seemed easy enough, and that was the problem. Venus would not have given her an easy task. Psyche walked closer to the grove to get a better look at the sheep. Their fleece was like finely spun gold, but on their heads were massive horns. They also had long, curved teeth from which dripped a thick, clear liquid. It looked like the poison Psyche had seen her father's physician take from a deadly reptile once.

Psyche understood now how Venus was going to have her killed. When she went to take the fleece, the sheep would stab her with their sharp horns while others would bite her and flood her body with the poison from their long teeth. If, by some chance, Psyche did the impossible and got fleece from the sheep, what would it matter? Tomorrow Venus would give her an even harder task. And if she succeeded at that one, there would be a task of greater difficulty the following day, and this would go on until one of the tasks resulted in her death.

"Why delay the inevitable?" she thought. If she killed herself, at least she could deny Venus the pleasure of bringing about her death.

Psyche looked at the river and thought about flinging herself in, then remembered the water's refusal to receive her before. But that was on Earth. This was Olympus. Perhaps this river would take pity on her.

As Psyche started toward the stream, Pan was at the far end of the meadow, cleaning his pipes. He saw Psyche, her head down and shoulders slumped, and he knew what she was going to do. He wanted to call out to her, but she was too far away. So he reached down and pulled from the ground a green reed like the ones of his pipes. He threw the reed as hard and far as he could. The reed landed in front of Psyche just as she reached the edge of the stream.

"Wait!" the reed said. "Please wait!"

Psyche stopped.

"This stream is sacred to the god Pan. He often sits beside it and listens to the melodies of the rushing water and then plays them on his pipes. If you drown yourself here, the only melodies the water will ever sing will be dirges and laments, and those will be the only melodies Pan will be able to play."

Psyche remembered how kind Pan had been to her and she remembered what he had said to her, and her self-pity vanished. She stepped back from the stream's edge.

"Thank you," the reed said. "Now listen carefully. The golden-fleeced sheep are very dangerous. They are most dangerous now, when the sun is shining on them. The heat makes them angry, and anyone who enters the grove will be gored to death by their horns, crushed by butts from their heads, or poisoned by their fangs. Wait until Sun begins his journey down from the top of the sky. The sheep, ex-haused by the heat and their anger, will fall asleep. Then you can enter the grove and pick all the fleece you need from the briars the sheep have brushed against."
Psyche did as the reed told her. That evening she presented Venus with a lap full of golden fleece.

The goddess sneered. "You obviously had the help of someone for this task, also. Well, your ability to get others to take risks for you exceeds what I imagined. Let's see how you fare with what I have in store for you tomorrow."

One of Venus's servants took Psyche back to the basement and locked her in for the night. Psyche sat on the dirt floor, her back against the stone wall. She thought about how Pan had come to her rescue again. Favonius had enlisted her help in dealing with her sisters. Could it be that the gods and nature itself did not want Venus to succeed? That was almost too much to hope for, but could it be? The thought filled with her with such joy that she laughed aloud.

In the room above, Cupid lay on his bed. For a moment he thought he heard laughter, but who would feel such happiness in the house of his mother?

Chapter end