Chapter 16: The Surrender

Sunlight peered through the small window as the chariot of Apollo ascended. Then the cell's door flung open, awaking Psyche from her troubled sleep. The priestesses came to escort her out as Venus had summoned her for another trial.

They brought her to the grove flanked by the river. Its banks extended into the distance and its low-lying bushes dotted around the stream. There were sheep wandering and grazing unguarded, and their fleeces sprouted with the glory of pure gold.

Venus stood on the hill in all her finery. When Psyche came, the goddess greeted her with a pretentious smile. And the mortal princess wondered what new misfortune awaited her. The goddess motioned for Psyche to stand by her side.

"Do you see the grove there?" she asked, pointing down with her glorious hand. "I order you to go yonder where the sheep with golden-shining wool are, and somehow obtain and bring back to me a turf of that precious fleece."

Psyche did not protest. She looked vacantly at the grove and then made her way there without a word. In fact, she had no intention of carrying out this task. The despaired princess just wanted to seek the ending of her suffering. She was thinking of throwing herself from a cliff above the river. But from that stretch of stream, sweet music of gentle voice and a caressing breeze seemed to speak to her.

"O maiden, it's true that you are harrowed by great trials, but do not tempt the most wretched death, venture not among the fearsome rams at this hour of the day. When they tend to be fired by the burning heat of the sun, they charge about in ferocious rage. With their sharp horns, their rock-hard heads, and sometimes their poisonous bites, they can wreak savage destruction on human folk."

"What should I do? Now I can't surrender to my death and neither can I succeed in my quest?" Psyche said to the disembodied voice.

"When the noontide has quelled the sun's heat and the serene river-breeze has lulled the sheep to rest, you shall be able to conceal yourself under that very tall plane-tree. Then as soon as the sheep relax their fury and their manners grow gentle, you must shake the foliage in the neighboring grove, and you shall find golden wool off the briers in the pasture."

Psyche sat down to rest near the bank with the nymphs of the river looking up to her sweetly. They blew bubbles to the surface with murmurs of how pitiful she was. Cupid had asked them for a favor to care for her sadden wife. They obeyed as the nymphs either feared or owed their love to her arrows.

So when the time came, the water-creatures helped Psyche crossing the river in safety. The girl followed every detail of the instruction. She went about the bushes picking the soft golden fleece clinging to the curved stems. Psyche gathered the yellow gold wool in her dress, and by twilight, she brought it back to Venus.

But the hazard in this second trial won her no favorable response from her mother-in-law. Venus frowned heavily as she looked at the gleaming wool Psyche had presented.

"I know quite well that this too is the work of divine being and not you," the goddess said. "Someone is helping from afar. No mortal wit did this, and I might know who the helper was."

Venus then started pacing back and forth, thinking of another task -a task that no one could be able to help her accomplish. Psyche sat slump beside the pile of precious fleece. The goddess turned back to her with a harsh smile again.

"I shall try you out in earnest, to see if you are indeed endowed with brave spirit and unique worth."

Venus brought her to the slop of a majestic mountain.

"See that high mountain-peak?" she said to the girl. "Perched above a dizzily high cliff, the livid waters of a dark spring comes tumbling down. I want you to hurry and bring me back in this small jug some icy water drawn from the stream's highest point where it gushes out from within."

Handing Psyche a vessel shaped from crystal, Venus backed her impossible request with even harsher threats.

"If you can't complete this task, you're not worthy enough to see your wife," the goddess said. "Therefore, go now and show me how you succeed."

Psyche nodded and made for the topmost peak with swift and eager steps. She was convinced that there at least shall put an end to her intolerable existence.

But the moment she neared the mountain range, she became aware of the lethal danger of her daunting task. Enclosed in the basin of a valley, the spring watered the mashes of the Styx and feed the streams of the Cocytus. A rock of huge size towered above her. It was hard to climb because of its rugged surface. From its stony jaws, it belched forth sickening waters coming directly from a vertical cleft.

The stream glided downward, being concealed in the course of the narrow channel that it had carved out. The water made its hidden way into a nearby valley. From the hollow rocks on the right and the left, fierce snakes crept out like crawling worms of a dead carcass. Psyche screamed in pure terror, crying and trembling with excessive fear.

But she willed her feet to move despite the terrors.

The snakes extended their long necks, their eyes unblinkingly watchful. For the waters gave them the power of speech, and from time to time, the snakes would cry out, "Clear off!" or "Watch where you're going!", or "What's your name?" or "Go back! You won't make it!"

The hopelessness of the situation at last rendered Psyche immobile. She was psychically present, but her senses deserted her. Utterly traumatized by the weight of danger, she could not even summon her tears.

Psyche fell into unconsciousness.

But this innocent soul was not overlooked by the gaze of her lover. Cupid was compelled to aid her wife in her ordeal. She left the shining paths of high Olympus and flew down and broke into a tearful speech.

"You are a naive soul with no experience in things as terrible as this, so how can you hope to be able to steal the drop from the most sacred and savage stream? To even apply your hand to it is unfathomable. These are the Styx's waters, a nightmarish object, and fear to the gods and even to Jupiter himself. Now hand me that jug of yours and I shall fill it for you."

Then she hastened to complete the task. Balancing the weight of her drooping wings, Cupid used them like oars to steer a course left and right between the serpents' jaws and their menacing teeth. Their triple-forked tongues darted and snapped at her as she flew by.

The voices warned the golden maiden to depart before she suffered harm. Cupid cleverly claimed that her mother, Venus had ordered her to collect the water for a ritual. It had eased her path somewhat, and the winged goddess gathered the sacred liquid in the jug before flying back.

Cupid wrapped one arm around her frozen wife before flying down the mountain together. After they landed on a meadow, Cupid put the jug down beside her feet and kissed Psyche on the cheek before hurrying back to the heavens.

It took a long while until Psyche regained her mind and came out of her coma state. She was overjoyed to see that the jug was full of divine water. She picked it up and returned to Venus.

But as always, she did not meet the goddess's satisfaction. Venus flashed her a furious look as she addressed the poor maiden.

"Indeed unless you're a sorceress with great and crafty powers, no way you could have carried out so efficiently such a task. But you will have to undertake one further quest for me, my girl."

Then she opened her palm and a golden mist twirled above it, manifesting a jeweled box.

"Take this box," Venus said and handed it to Psyche. "Make straight for the Underworld, to the Palace of Proserpina, Queen of the Dead and tell her that Venus asks for a small supply of her beauty-preparation, enough for just one day, because she has been tending her sick daughter, has used hers all up by rubbing it on her child. Make your way back as early as you can, because I need it to doll myself up before I attend the Deities' Theater."

It was then that Psyche came to the full realization that this was the end of the road for her. Venus had no intention of letting her live to see her beloved one. All the pretense was to get rid of her. The girl saw clearly that she was being driven to her final doom. It could not be otherwise, for she was being forced to journey on foot to Tartarus itself. No one had ventured and returned from the Underworld unless they were exceptional or divine. Psyche was neither, so death was certain.

The next sunrise, Psyche lingered no longer and made for a very high tower, intending to throw herself from it, for she thought that this was the direct and most glorious route down to the world below.

But the voice suddenly burst into speech and stopped her attempt.

"Poor girl, why do you seek to put an end to your life? What is the point of rash surrender before your final labor? Once your spirit leaves your body, you shall descend to the depths of the Underworld without a chance of coming back again."

"But there is no way I could reach Proserpina," Psyche said in a hopeless tone. "I shall end up dead anyway trying to get down to Tartarus."

"Listen to me carefully, sweet Psyche," the voice said. "Go to Sparta, the famed Achaean city, which lies not far from here. On its borders, you must look for Taenarus hidden in a pathless region. The Underworld has its breathing-vent there with open gates none should tread. Once you have crossed the threshold and venture yourself to that route, it will lead you directly to Proserpina's palace."