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Authors: Julius Lester

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BOOK: Cupid
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The king laughed nervously. "Those are questions for my philosopher. I'll send him to you tomorrow. He will tell you more about beauty than you want to know."

"No, Father. I'm asking you and Mother."

It was now the queen's turn to give a nervous laugh. "Don't concern yourself with questions that have no answers. Be glad you are not ugly."

The king saw tears come into Psyche's eyes and realized that he and the queen were not taking Psyche seriously enough.

"Is it that you want to know what others see when they look at you?" he asked quietly.

Psyche nodded, grateful that perhaps he understood.

The king thought for a long while, then said, "There was an orchid that used to grow in the mountains. It was very rare and its beauty was unlike that of any flower ever seen. My grandfather took me to the copse where it grew, because this orchid was found no other place in the world. I could not have been more than seven years old, yet I still remember it as if it were only this morning. A few months after he showed me the orchid, the gods sent terrible storms off the Great Blue Sea. The salt water from the sea blew far inland and destroyed many trees and plants. The following
spring, my grandfather and I returned to the copse where the orchid grew. Alas, the storm had filled the ground with salt and the orchid could not grow. However, each spring I go back to that place and look for it. It is gone, but the memory of the orchid's beauty has stayed with me all these years. I cannot tell you what it was about the orchid that made it so beautiful. It may have been its colors, its shape. Or it may have been the combination of the two, which created something more than the two did separately. I can only tell you that seeing the orchid made me feel wonderful, made me feel that my life, even at age seven, was greater than everything I knew and everything I would know. The memory of that orchid continues to expand my life beyond the limitations of my body and my mind." He smiled. "So it is with your beauty, my darling girl. It is a gift to all those who have the privilege of seeing it. People look at you and they feel better."

But Psyche was not so easily mollified. "I suppose it's nice that my beauty is a gift to others, but that does not answer my question. What is that beauty to me?
That
is what I want to know."

"You are an ungrateful child!" her mother rebuked her. "Every female in the kingdom would do anything to have your beauty."

"There are days I wish I could give it to them," Psyche responded sadly. "Let one of them live with this loneliness."

And the king and queen and their youngest daughter lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Venus

All the gods and goddesses lived on Olympus, which was pretty much like Earth. It had mountains, valleys, streams, forests, but no deserts. The major difference was that Earth existed under the sky. Olympus was behind the sky. I'm not exactly sure where that is, but I know it's north of here but south of there.

I would take you on a tour and show you all the different palaces where the gods and goddesses lived, but the story says we don't have time for that. One of the hard things about being a storyteller is that stories can be impatient. When it's their time to be told, they get real mean if they think you're taking too long with the telling. So we had better hurry to the outskirts of Olympus to the palace of Venus, the goddess of love.

Venus lived away from the other deities because she didn't want them knowing all of her business. Even though she was married to Vulcan, the god of metalwork, she did not have much talent for monogamy. How could she? She was the goddess of love, and love was what she was faithful to. If her husband did not understand that, he should not have married her. Of course, I can hear you saying that if Venus knew that about herself, she should have stayed single. I would try and explain it to you, but the story just told me I was about to get off on a tangent, and it does not have time for that. I agree. The surest way to get a headache
is trying to understand the doings of the gods and goddesses. So let's move on, because I don't need a headache.

Venus's palace was made from the soft, rosy colors of sunset and the glowing ivory white of moonlight. It was large because it had to accommodate all the spirits that came there. The first floor was reserved for Venus and her son, Cupid. They lived in their own wings, at opposite ends of the palace. The second floor was set aside for the spirits of people whose hearts had been broken in love; the third floor was for the spirits of those who had not loved wisely. (My spirit was there more than once to recuperate from letting my eyes take my heart where it did not belong.) The fourth floor was the most crowded. It was for the spirits of the lonely.

Venus did not have much to do except make regular visits to her temples on Earth. (A temple was like a church, except there was no organ or gospel choir.) People would bring her offerings and she would listen to their love problems. How much and how closely Venus listened depended on what you brought her, and Venus did not like anything cheap. But caviar, champagne, or anything made of cashmere always got you her undivided attention.

However, of late, Venus had not seen any caviar, champagne, or cashmere. People had stopped coming to her temples, and she did not know why. On this particular afternoon, the goddess was going to learn the reason.

She was lying on a chaise lounge on the front porch of her palace, getting a massage. Every week Venus set aside six
days to be pampered. She would get a massage from Oizys, the goddess of pain, then sit in the hot tub and drink champagne and eat strawberries. After that she would get her nails and hair done. Then her fashion stylist would bring in a rack of the latest gowns from Oscar de la Olympus, and Venus would try on each one. Being pampered was exhausting, so she would take a nap and wake up in time for dinner, which that evening was going to be steak Diane sauteed in ambrosia and grapes, with rice and peas smothered with nectar. On the seventh day of every week, Venus rested from being pampered and went to her temples to receive gifts and the adulation of the people. At least that was how it used to be.

On this particular day, Venus had started to doze off beneath the skillful hands of Oizys, when the goddess of pain said, under her breath, "I wonder what's going on down there."

Of all the deities, Oizys was the most ignored. There were no temples dedicated to her honor. There weren't even any stories about her like there were about Jupiter, Juno, Apollo, and Venus, among others. But because the deities avoided Oizys, except when they wanted a hard massage, she had plenty of time to see who was doing what to whom and why. She knew more about the doings on Olympus than any of them, including Mercury, who did nothing but carry messages and gossip all over everywhere. So when Oizys said, as if speaking to herself, "I wonder what's going
on down there," she knew what was going on down there. She also knew the information would cause Venus great pain. But if it were not for pain, neither deities nor mortals would ever grow up.

"What's going on where?" Venus asked sleepily. "Ouch! Not so hard on my shoulders. Ahh! Yes, that's better." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Did you say something was going on?" she asked sleepily.

"Over there," Oizys replied, pointing to a tiny kingdom at the edge of the Great Blue Sea. "All those people. They look like they're waiting for something, or someone."

Reluctantly, Venus raised up and looked down on the world. It took her a moment to find what Oizys was pointing to, but finally she saw crowds lining both sides of a road. Venus smiled wistfully. "That's how it used to be when I walked among mortals," she thought.

The crowd stirred as the great doors to the palace grounds swung open. People jostled each other to get a better view.

"The king of this realm must be very loved," Venus whispered. She was eager to see the man who inspired such devotion from his subjects.

But the person who walked out was a young woman of a beauty unlike any Venus had ever seen, including that which looked back at her from her mirror each morning. The crowds were so quiet you could hear green color flowing into new leaves. Some people were so overcome at the
sight of the young woman, they fainted. Others simply gazed, tears streaming down their faces.

As the young woman continued walking, petals from flowers bordering the road drifted off the blooms, braided themselves into a wreath, and settled on her head.

"Who is that?" Venus demanded to know, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.

"Oh, I wonder if that is who I overheard Mars and Apollo talking about the other day." Oizys stopped suddenly, as if afraid that she had said too much. Not too long ago, Mars and Venus had a passionate affair. When Vulcan learned of it, he rigged a net over her bed. The next time she and Mars lay together, the net fell on them. Vulcan had called all the gods and goddesses to come and look at the two in their naked togetherness.

Venus frowned at the mention of her former lover's name. Even though they were no longer lovers, she did not like the idea of him looking at another woman, especially a mortal.

"What were Mars and Apollo saying?"

"Oh, nothing," Oizys muttered.

"Answer me!"

"It was nothing. Just men talking, and you know how they are. What they said is not worth repeating."

"I'll determine what is and is not worth repeating. Now, tell me what was said."

Oizys sighed again, but smiled to herself. She had set a trap for Venus even more subtly than Vulcan had. "Well,
they said she was more beautiful than any goddess on Olympus."

Venus was furious. "Who said that?" she demanded to know. "Which one of them?"

"It was Apollo," said Oizys, feigning reluctance.

"Apollo!" Venus exclaimed. It would have broken her heart had Mars spoken the words, but it was worse coming from Apollo because he was incapable of telling a lie.

But Oizys was not, for it was she who had just put a lie into Apollo's mouth.

"Who do
you
think is the most beautiful woman in all of creation?" Venus asked.

"You are," Oizys responded hastily. "What mortal could come close to matching your great beauty?"

What mortal, indeed? Venus said silently. "What is the name of this—this thing on Earth who thinks she is more beautiful than I?"

"I believe Apollo referred to her as Psyche."

"Psyche!" Venus repeated in disgust. "Leave me, Oizys."

"But, goddess, I have not finished your massage. Nothing would be more soothing at such a moment than a deep massage."

"Yes, yes, I know, but I need to be alone. Now, leave me."

Smiling to herself, Oizys picked up her vials of oils and left.

Venus went inside where the hot tub had already been filled with steaming water by her servants. She disrobed, stepped in, and sat down. She had to do something about
this Psyche. Could she be the reason people had stopped coming to worship Venus at her temples? Perhaps people had forgotten just how beautiful she was. She would go immediately to her temple in the Kingdom-by-the-Great-Blue-Sea. When people saw her, they would remember what true beauty looked like, and they would abandon their foolish adulation of that young woman whose beauty was merely mortal and would fade sooner than later.

When Venus finished her bath, her servants, the Three Graces—Aglaia, Charis, and Pasithea—came quickly with towels made from the warm breezes of South Wind. They dried her, then dressed her in a white gown of silk and cashmere. The goddess's long, dark straight hair was oiled until each strand shone with the luster of desire. By then, her golden chariot drawn by swans was waiting for her on the great lawn outside her palace. The Graces helped Venus into the chariot, then she flew down to reclaim her rightful place in the hearts of the people.

When she arrived at her temple on a hillside by the Great Blue Sea, Venus was shocked at what she saw. The temple's roof was sagging; the altar on which supplicants used to place offerings had fallen over and was covered with dust and spiderwebs. The marble floor could barely be seen beneath thick layers of dead leaves. Where were the temple's caretakers? Were they, too, among the crowds waiting for the appearance of Psyche?

Angry, Venus returned to her swan-drawn chariot and
flew to the very road Psyche had walked along mere hours before. People still lingered there, hoping the young woman would come out again. No one noticed Venus's chariot when it landed in front of the huge doors to the palace. No one noticed when the goddess began walking along the road. Venus looked into the faces of the people, hoping to see a spark of recognition in their eyes. But although their eyes were open, they could not see Venus for looking at the image of Psyche imprinted on their minds.

Unable to abide the humiliation an instant longer, Venus returned quickly to Olympus, more furious than she had ever been. If she didn't do something, she was going to find herself wandering through the world and being ignored. That's what happened to gods and goddesses when people stopped believing in them. She had seen them—Astarte, Isis, Osiris, Marduk, Gilgamesh—so many of the old deities walking among the people who did not recognize them. It was as if they had never existed, but deities could not die. If no one recognized your existence, however, was that not death?

"Where in Jupiter's name is Cupid?" she screamed.

If ever she needed her son, it was now. He knew better than anyone how to torture humans with lust and love. Indeed, she herself knew just how powerful the love potion was that Cupid put on his arrows. She still grieved for a love unlike any she had ever known or would ever know again.

Venus and Adonis

It happened when Cupid was still a child. Venus was visiting her temples, but her mind was not focused on the love problems of mortals. She was thinking about Cupid, whom she missed more than she thought possible. She finished her temple duties quickly and hurried back to Olympus and her beloved son.

"I'm going to get you," she announced playfully, standing in the doorway of his chambers.

BOOK: Cupid
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