Commotion from behind the statue brought Psyche awake at dawn. She yawned and pushed herself into sitting position. How long had it been since she had finished sorting the seeds with the help of the ants? It felt like ages ago, but the task was done. As Aphrodite staggered out from behind the statue, Psyche came to her feet and wrapped her arms around her arms around her chest to keep herself from shivering. Psyche curtsied as best her sore legs could as the goddess approached her.
“My lady,” Psyche whispered, “I have completed the task you have given me.”
The goddess belched and looked at her. “You have?” Aphrodite whipped her head towards the center of her temple and her eyes widened at the sight of the piles of seeds. “Impossible!” the goddess screamed. “Impossible! You should not have been able to complete this task.”
Psyche stepped back as the goddess continued her tirade. “Do you think this one task makes you worthy of being my son’s bride? It does not. You are still a worthless mortal woman. Your future has already been set. It is your destiny, child, to marry a stupid mortal man and birth his children and serve your husband’s every need until your death. Hades and Persephone have a place already picked out for you on Asphodel. Mark my words, I speak the truth.” The goddess paused long enough to draw one long breath into her lungs. “Do you still think yourself worthy of my son?”
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, the only world that would escape her lips would be no. Aphrodite grinned and circled Psyche where she stood to give her the next task. “Dear Helios has a flock of sheep with wool the color of gold. The wool makes the finest fabric, Athena tells me, if one is brave enough to sheer the sheep. The goddess tells me these sheep can be quite violent. I will transport you to the river where they graze and when you have collected a tuff of wool, shout my name and I will set the next task I wish you to complete.”
With a wave of a hand, Aphrodite spirited her to a river. Psyche searched for the flock of sheep, but by the time Helios’ chariot had climbed to the highest point in the sky, she still had not set eyes upon them. She collapsed to her knees, tears streamed down the sides of her face. The seeds had been an impossible task, and now one more such task had been presented to her. How could she get close enough to the sheep to get the tuff of wool? The sheep would likely kill her for her efforts. She fell to her side, images of Eros’ sleeping face coming to her.
She was not worthy of being his consort, she never was. She should give up now and be done with it. Perhaps she should save the sheep the trouble of slaughtering her by drowning herself in the river. Her death would save herself from her grief and save her parents the trouble of finding her an unworthy husband who would never match Eros’ kindness. Psyche pushed herself off the soft grass and approached the banks of the river, sliding into the water past a patch of whistling reeds. The water was cool on her skin, even against the scratches from the whips. Her eyes looked to the other side of the river where the light of the sun hit on the golden fleece of the sheep as they charged from one side of a field to the next. A few bucked heads while others snapped their teeth at each other.
“I will never be able to get close enough to get even one hair off their backs,” she whispered as a gentle breeze blew past her and the reeds.
“Gentle Psyche,” the gentle wind seemed to say as it blew through the reeds, “there is no need for you to pollute these waters with your death. Another hour of this heat will tax the sheep so they will slumber. Take yourself to the next grove over once the sheep have settled, and find tuffs of their fleece entangled in the low twigs and branches.”
Psyche crossed the water and stayed close to the bank, hiding herself among the reeds that grew on that side of the river as well. As the wind promise, the sheep fell into a deep slumber an hour past noon. She climbed the bank and as quietly as her footsteps took her, she found the grove and the tuffs of fleece, just as the wind had told her. She grabbed several tuffs of fleece in her hands and returned to the far side of the river where Aphrodite had sent her.
She yawned when she reached the other side, collapsing to her knees. Her stomach growled, reminding Psyche that she had not eaten since the previous morning. Her eyes searched the river’s bank and the surrounding trees for signs of berries that she could feast on, but saw nothing. Could she hope that Aphrodite might be generous and give her a bite to eat?
“Lady Aphrodite,” she called out.
The goddess appeared even before Psyche finished speaking her name. Psyche came to her feet and extended the tuffs of fleece towards the goddess. Aphrodite accepted the gift with a grin. Psyche lowered her hands in front of her and entwined her fingers together. She tilted her head forward until she could only see the goddess’s golden sandals.
“Perhaps I should make you spin this fleece into thread,” the goddess mused, “but that would be too easy a task for a young mortal of your standing.” The goddess paused. “Look up at me, girl.” Psyche obeyed, lifting her chin as the goddess extended her hand. When Aphrodite opened her fingers, a crystal bottle rested on the goddess’s palm. “Take this bottle, mortal child,” the goddess instructed, “and take yourself to the source of the Lake Cocytus and fill the bottle with the water. Again, once you’ve completed this task, call out my name and I will come to you once more.”
Psyche took the bottle as Aphrodite vanished once again. She looked at the bottle with heavy eyelids. All she wanted was a little food and a place to lay her head, but if she wanted to see Eros again, she needed to complete the tasks the goddess set to her. How many more of these tasks would Aphrodite set to her before being allowed to reunite with the goddess’s son? In her lessons, she had learned that Heracles had been set twelve labors to atone for his sins. But he had killed his wife and children. Was that not worse than loving a god? Not in Aphrodite’s eyes, it seemed.
The sheep coming out their slumber caught Psyche’s attention. She stared as the sheep ran and bucked in the clearing. Could they jump from one side of the river to the other? Several of the larger sheep dared to come close to the river bank. She took several steps back, clutching the bottle close to her chest as she watched another sheep come up behind the other, snapping its teeth at the first. Psyche felt her heart pound in her chest as her feet stumbled back. She nearly tripped on large twigs.
She turned and found a tree with branches low enough for her to reach. Not since she had been a child of five or six summers had she climbed any tree. Her sisters had scolded her for behaving like a boy. They always threatened to tell their mother of her behavior, so she learned only to climb a tree when her sisters were too busy with their lessons to join her in the meadows outside the polis limits. Her governess never tattled on her; the elderly woman often joined her in the tree, taking the highest branches that could support her weight. And this was where Psyche climbed to now.
Near the center of the tree, she found branches where she could rest, perhaps sleep a little, and figure out how she would complete this task set to her. She closed her eyes once she planted her back against a large branch. Before she could set her mind on her task, she drifted off to sleep. When she woke up, night had fallen and she had not fallen out of the tree. She thanked the gods for the courtesy. She considered climbing to the ground, but she was safe here until dawn.
Her mind raced through the lessons she had taken in her youth for her memories of where the source to the Lake Cocytus could be found. It did not take her long to remember it was located in Feneos, near Mount Cullene where the god Hermes had been born. It would have been nice if Aphrodite had transported her at least part of the way, but that would be easy. The goddess might hope that Psyche would give up and go home. She had completed two of the tasks given to her, she could complete a third.
