The Hanged Man: Part 2: Mabon
Post #2: In which a young woman finds balance and makes a choice ...
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PERSEPHONE
Persephone turned, her face shadowed by her hood. She saw a broad chest, a black beard, a fearsome scowl, hands clenched into fists. The horse nickered in greeting behind her. She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her back, but said nothing. She knew her first word would give her away. She felt the horse’s lips at the back of her neck as he gripped her hood in strong yellow teeth and pulled it off her head.
Hades’ jaw dropped. His gaze roamed over her body. He took a step toward her, his eyes hot.
Persephone, maiden though she was, didn’t mistake his intention. Rage swept through her. Was her worth always to be reduced to her beauty? Was she never to be more than a pretty plaything? Hades grasped her by the same arm he’d taken hold of on the windswept dark hill the night before and it felt bruised and sore. She lifted her other hand and slapped him as hard as she could on the patch of skin high on his cheek above his beard.
Hades paused. “Do you know who I am, girl?”
“I don’t care who you are! Keep your hands off me!”
They glared at one another.
“I’m Hades, Lord of the Dead and the Underworld!” he informed her, not without some pride.
“It’s a pity your great title doesn’t come with better manners! I suppose the dead don’t care if you behave like a brute!“
She saw with satisfaction she’d roused his own anger. “You … How dare you? You speak to me so? I’m the Lord of Death! I wield the power of Death!”
“So you said,” she replied. “Congratulations. Tell me, then, Oh, Lord Hades of the Dead and the Underworld, what do you know? Are there many mysteries and secrets of your realm?”
He looked at her with astonishment. She recognized his confusion and seized the opportunity. “My lord,” she said, “Take me with you. I want to learn. Teach me.”
“You don’t know what you ask!” he blustered. “You can’t come there.”
“I’m not afraid! You endure it, why can’t I? I tell you, I can do so much more than I’ve done! I can be so much more than I’ve been! Let me try!”
His anger appeared to drain away, and she thought he suddenly looked tired.
“Very well,” he said, unexpectedly capitulating. “I’ll take you with me.” He left the stall and shouted for a stable boy to bring tack and saddle the horse. When the boy came, Persephone dismissed him. She dressed the horse herself while Hades watched. The stallion nickered and lipped at her as she moved around him. He opened his mouth for the bit and stood docile and quiet as she cinched the saddle, making sure no strap caused discomfort.
Persephone took the reins and led the horse out of the stall and down the aisle. The cool evening filled the courtyard. Hades mounted and pulled Persephone up behind him. She put her arms about his waist, holding him lightly. He was silent as they rode, and she watched the light fade and the sky darken while the stars lit like candles.
They rode through the night. As morning approached, they came to a massive pair of closed gates. Hades dismounted and Persephone slid down to stand beside him. Hades gave a shrill whistle and a man came running from a nearby cluster of buildings. Hades tossed him the reins. The man gaped at Persephone, showing a mouthful of discolored teeth. Persephone took no notice, but ran her hands over the stallion’s neck and down his long nose in a farewell caress. The sound of his hooves moved away as the man led him to his stable and a meal.
“These are the gates to my realm,” said Hades. “You can’t come any further.” Persephone stood silent and stubborn beside him.
“You can’t come with me!” he said, exasperated. “You don’t know what it’s like! I’m no teacher of girls! I hate the place and I hate my life here. Be off with you! I don’t want you!” He drew his brows together and scowled at his boots.
“I’m coming with you,” she said. “Show me.” She laid a hand on his arm.
He stepped forward and the gates swung open to admit them.
Later, Persephone’s memory of the journey was of blurred and soft shadow with flashes of extraordinary clarity. Hades took her hand and she never forgot the feel of his clasp. At one moment, they seemed to be children traveling together into an unknown and fearful world. At another she felt herself to be his support and comfort, but she also felt protective reassurance in the clasp of his fingers, as if he sought to tell her without words he would stay by her.
The path twisted, leading them through many gates and doors, Hades speaking now and then a word of command to open their way. She walked beside him and watched with wonder as color and light faded out of the world. Shadows grew until all was shadow and unrelieved bare rock. No insect, no sound of bird, no green of plant or color of flower softened the landscape. She had never imagined a place like this! Yet she didn’t feel afraid or appalled. She’d lived all her life surrounded by careless abundance and beauty, and now discovered a kind of relief in the barren simplicity around her. Flesh was beautiful but the hidden mystery of bone beneath flesh seduced her. Something in her expanded and breathed deeply.
They came to a river, the other side lost in dim shadow. Hades whistled and a small boat slid into view, lit by a lantern. At its helm sat the oldest, most desiccated and wizened human being Persephone had ever seen. He looked like an ancient piece of leather, tough and indestructible. His face was seamed so deeply his features were indistinguishable. A small, lizard-like creature glowing like coals in a fire, orange and sulfur yellow, crouched on his knee.
“My Lord,” he croaked, bowing his head, and Hades, still holding Persephone’s hand, stepped into the boat.
The old man dipped the oars and the boat moved across the river. This was not a chuckling, murmuring, splashing, living river, gleaming in light, but implacable, cold and powerful, flowing with a single continuous rushing sound. Persephone wondered at the old man’s strength in oaring the boat across it. It looked fast and deep and she wasn’t tempted to trail her hand in it. Glancing at the old man, she saw him watching her, but his eyes were a brief and far-away glimmer in the lines of his face and she could read no expression there. His face changed. His mouth widened and he gave her a toothless smile, but whether in kindness or derision she couldn’t tell. She gave him a slight smile in return.
River and boatman left behind, Hades led her along a path climbing and falling through narrow ways and caverns. Around them she heard murmuring and rustling, whispering and slight movement, as though thousands of leaves spoke together. As Persephone and Hades walked through this gentle susurration the sound ceased, beginning again in their wake. “It’s the sound of the dead,” said Hades in a low voice. They’re afraid of me and fall silent when I approach.”
“What do they talk about?” asked Persephone.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“What do they do here? How long must they stay and then where do they go?” She looked at the cold shadowed rock around her. The living world seemed like a faded dream in this place.
“It’s the Land of the Dead! They do nothing, for they possess no bodies. They whisper and murmur and fear me. They move from here to there. There are many ways out and many ways in. Even I don’t know them all. Sometimes they leave, I don’t know how and I don’t care! The place is always filled with them. They’re terrible! I don’t know where they go. What does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re their midwife from life to death and from death into the next thing! It matters because they’re your people!”
His face closed and he turned away without another word. Persephone glared at his back. He was impossible! Whatever she learned in this place wouldn’t be from him. Yet there were so many unanswered questions and so much to understand. Her heart went out to the dead. To come from the green living world to this! And to find no guide, no help, no way forward. Yet Hades himself said there were many ways in and out of this place.
Surrounded with so much life and being young and strong, she’d never thought about death and what lay beyond it.
They came into a hollowed-out cavern. A fire burned and she smelled roasting meat. She saw a throne-like chair and a table set with dishes and cups. Skins softened a cold stone floor. In the shadows against a wall lay a mattress and a heap of blankets, in the manner of a great hall where the household slept together before the fire. But here there existed no household, though a man tended the fire. His body looked pale and dim. Hades followed her look.
“I can give them form,” he said. “That’s Kadmos. He lived as a servant in life and he serves me well enough now. I don’t require much in this place.”
The man inclined his head towards Persephone and she smiled at him, but he seemed not to see.
Persephone became of aware of deep weariness. She ate and drank but hardly tasted what she put in her mouth. She longed for sleep and sat drowsing before her cup. Hades shook out his mattress, putting it near the fire and making it up with blankets. He extinguished torches so the cavern flickered with firelight and shadow. He took Persephone by the arm and led her to the mattress. She reached up and pulled pins from her hair and her braids fell down her back in two golden tails. She lay down and fell asleep, curled on her side like a child, before he finished covering her.
HADES
Hades turned his chair to face the fire and brooded in front of the flames. The girl slept, the gentle rise and fall of her breath making the rich color of her hair gleam in the firelight. He thought of her questions. He felt ashamed because he couldn’t answer them. He thought of Odin saying he didn’t know his realm, and recognized truth. His hatred of the Underworld, his longing to be free of it, and his jealousy of his brothers’ lots killed any curiosity about his own portion. But now, alone before the fire, he wondered. She had said he was a midwife and these were his people. He snorted to himself, thinking of the figure of a bent old crone he associated with a midwife. Yet perhaps his role was similar to such a woman. What did the dead whisper of?
Tomorrow he’d find out. Tomorrow perhaps they’d find out together. But tomorrow would she beg him to take her back to the Green World? Would she be sick and horrified to find herself here with him when she awakened? The moment when he might take her for his pleasure and turn away was gone. He respected her courage and defiance too much. Who was she? He realized he still didn’t know. He didn’t even know her name. Even if she wished to stay for a time with him, her people would demand her return.
PERSEPHONE
The Underworld knew neither morning nor night, but Persephone woke feeling rested, though grimy and travel worn. Hades called for a female servant and a woman came to Persephone, dim and transparent as the manservant who greeted them the night before, but neat and with a shy smile for her. Hades himself had business to catch up with after his absence. The woman led Persephone through corridors and caverns and after a time they stepped from a narrow way into a large cave filled with steam and a mineral smell of hot water. Persephone heard the gentle gurgle and bubble of a spring. The woman helped her out of her clothes and unbound her braids, exclaiming with pleasure at the weight and color of Persephone’s hair. As Persephone stepped into the rocky pool, the woman moved to leave but Persephone asked her to stay and talk. She shook out and folded Persephone’s clothing and then took up a sponge and a basin of soap and helped her wash her hair.
Encouraged by Persephone’s gentle questions, the woman spoke of working in a large wealthy household until she had become ill. Her master gave her a bed and what care the household could provide, as she’d served him well most of her life. Death came after a time of great pain and suffering. She laid a hand on her belly, remembering.
“Now I’ve come here,” she said, “and I’m fortunate, for I’m given something to do. Most of the dead don’t know who they are or what they’re for. Some believe there’s more after this place, but none know how to find it. We wonder if all we were and felt and did was a dream without meaning. We miss those we left behind and seek those who came before us, for we’re so lonely. Many despair in this place.”
“And what would you do with your death, if you could?” asked Persephone.
“Lady, I would speak my name again,” the woman said. “I’d tell the story of myself, what I learned, what I rejoiced in, what gave me sorrow. I’d speak of my regrets and mistakes and the shape of my days. I’d tell of those I loved. Then…” She leaned forward, filled the basin and poured it carefully over Persephone’s head, rinsing soap away. Steam from the hot mineral water enclosed them. Persephone felt the aches in her body soothed.
“Yes?” she encouraged as the other fell silent.
“I’d be free,” said the woman in a low voice. “I’d be free to serve only myself.”
Persephone dried herself on a length of cloth. The woman brought a bowl of scented oil and massaged it into her body, combing it through the thick tangle of hair with her fingers. Persephone donned her clothes and they returned to Hades’ chamber. She sat on a low stool before the fire while the woman plaited her hair, pinning it around her head in a crown.
When her hair was neat, Persephone rose and turned to face the woman. “I’m Persephone. Lady, what’s your name?”
“My name is Frona,” said the woman, and bowed her head. Persephone embraced her. “Frona, will you come to me soon and tell me your story, from beginning to end?”
“I will,” replied Frona. She turned and left the chamber.
When Hades returned for a meal, he found a fire burning, the hearth swept, mattress and blankets tidied away and the table set for two. Persephone greeted him with a smile and held out her hand to him. He took it briefly before dropping it and turning away.
The manservant, Kadmos – Persephone had spoken to him now as well -- brought food and drink to them. Persephone waited until he was gone before speaking. When they were alone, she said, “Now it’s time to talk about the past and future.”
As she spoke, she watched him turn his cup around and around between his fingers, his eyes on the torchlight playing on its silver surface. She told him about her life with Demeter, her boredom and loneliness and longing for something of her own, something private and apart from her mother.
Then she told of her day and her talk with Frona. “I want to hear her story,” she said, “and Kadmos’s, too. I want to help them go on. I want to understand this place and what it’s for, how to use it. There’s mystery here, and power. This is the other half of my life with my mother. That was sunlight and warmth and this is shadow and cold. Together they make a whole I want to know and understand.”
He didn’t speak. The fire burned quietly. Persephone, who hadn’t paused to eat while she spoke, broke a piece of bread from the braided barley loaf she’d baked earlier in the day and spread it with honey.
Hades never raised his gaze from the cup between his fingers as he began to talk. His face softened and he looked younger under the wild black beard as he related drawing lots with his brothers to decide who would rule which part of Webbd and his first journey to the Underworld as its master. He spoke of loneliness and bitterness, his longing to be free again in the living world. “Even my name is now lost,” he said. “I’m so feared my true name is never spoken, lest it summon me. Now all know me as Hades if they speak to me or of me at all, yet none hate this place as I do.”
“I felt ashamed that I couldn’t answer your questions. Now, for the first time, I’m curious and I’ve questions of my own.” He raised his gaze to Persephone. “You’re so beautiful, so alive and warm! How can you want to shut yourself away in this place? It’s a living death! Even if you want to stay, will you be allowed? Demeter is powerful.”
Persephone raised her chin. “I’m not a child. My mother must accept I’m ready for my own life now. You don’t compel me to stay. I choose it. I’m needed here.”
Kadmos came into the chamber with a tray and began clearing the table. “Lord,” he said to Hades, “one comes who would see you and the lady. She waits outside.”
“One who’s living?” Hades asked in surprise.
“Yes, Lord,” said Kadmos.
“Send her in, then,” said Hades, rising to his feet. “Bring some of Odin’s mead, and another cup.”
Kadmos left the chamber with his tray. Hades laid wood on the fire.
Kadmos returned with a bowl of purple grapes, another silver cup and the mead. He opened the door and stood back. A bent figure swathed in a cloak entered, followed closely by a wolf with amber eyes. The wolf moved to a place in front of the fire and lay down. A gnarled hand reached up and threw back the hood, revealing short straight grey hair.
“Hecate!” Persephone and Hades both greeted the old woman with respect. Hades took her cloak and offered her a chair. In this moment, the three of them were strangely akin, the strong-chested black-bearded man, the beautiful corn maiden and the lean old woman.
Hecate’s shrewd gaze moved from one to another. “So,” she said, “the children begin to grow up.” Persephone wanted to squirm under her bright, sharp gaze.
“Perhaps you can talk sense into the girl,” said Hades. “I’ve just been telling her she can’t stay in this place with me. She must return to her mother and the living world.”
“You—” Persephone began, furious.
Hecate interrupted. “You’ve been alone long enough,” she said to Hades. “All these souls look to you for guidance. It’s a hard kingship, Hades, but it’s your place and your duty. You may find joy in it, and wisdom, and you needn’t be exiled from warmth and companionship. Haven’t you longed for a companion? Does Persephone offend you in her looks? She seems beautiful enough to me!”
“No!” said Hades, and Persephone saw the skin above his beard redden in the firelight. “She’s too fine for this place of death!”
“You talk like a child!” said Hecate. “This is a threshold place, a place of transition. Haven’t you grasped that to speak of death, to be in death, is to be in life? Have you wasted all your time here in sulking? And do you think it’s your place to choose for this young woman? Might she not choose for herself? You underestimate her, perhaps.” She turned to Persephone. “What do you say for yourself?”
“I’m more than my looks!” said Persephone. “I want a life of my own. I want to learn. There’s power in this place and I want to understand it. I don’t ask to stay to be his plaything, his pretty toy!” She glared at Hades.
“You can’t stay!” roared Hades. “I won’t allow it!”
“You can’t stop me!” she returned. “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m not afraid of you and I’m not afraid of this place. I’ve learned more today than you have all your time here!”
Hecate’s dry laughter filled the chamber. “A worthy pair!” She said. “You may do much together. Now sit down, both of you, and listen to what I say.” She reached into some pocket in her clothing and brought out a round piece of fruit. It glowed with color, now red, now orange, now pink in the firelight. She laid it on the table and called out the door for Kadmos. In a moment, she returned with a board, a sharp knife and a bowl. She cut the fruit into four quarters so it opened like a flower, showing red fleshy seeds. She scored each quarter again, turned it over above the bowl and gave it a sharp tap. Seeds fell into the bowl with a soft sound. With the tip of the knife, she removed a few seeds buried in the rind and added them to the bowl.
Hecate set the bowl aside. “Now,” she said to Hades, “It’s time you assumed responsibility for your realm. You’re a king. The souls who stand on this threshold are your business. You’ll need all your wisdom, which at the moment is regrettably little. But you’ll learn. The dead themselves will tell you everything you need to know.”
Turning to Persephone, she continued, “We haven’t yet spoken of your mother. She’s suffering and everywhere the tale is told of your kidnap and rape.”
Persephone flushed. “What kidnap and rape? I chose to leave! I waited for Odin and the Wild Hunt!”
Hecate raised a hand to silence her. “I know, child. But you can’t expect your mother to accept that you wanted to leave her and chose this manner of doing it! As for rape, Hades’ reputation is deservedly black in that regard. Help is coming to Demeter, and I’ll go speak to her myself when I leave you, but I think she may not be so easy to soothe. She’ll fight for your return.”
“I’ll not be forced to go back!” But even in her defiance Persephone wondered if Demeter might not find a way to force her to go home after all. Home. It felt dear and familiar and she belonged there. She looked at Hades. He twisted the silver cup between his fingers, his gaze fixed on it. She could see the rumor of rape and kidnap rankled, yet she knew such thoughts had been in his mind in Odin’s stable. What, after all, was she thinking of? This gloomy, dark man was a stranger. Could she endure to live in the Land of the Dead, shut away from the green and living world? Yet the place spoke to her. She remembered the feel of Hades’ hand clasping hers as they entered the Underworld at the great gates. Troubled, she looked into Hecate’s eyes.
Hecate smiled. “The choice, Daughter, is yours. None can make it for you. Long ago the Norns decreed any who ate of the pomegranate in the Land of the Dead must forever be bound there. If you eat of these seeds not even Demeter can force you to leave. It is indeed time for you to find your own life.”
Persephone rose and stood before the fire. The wolf lay with its long muzzle on its forelegs, paying her no attention. Hecate and Hades were silent behind her. The fire burned to an orange glow, echoing the pomegranate’s color, the color of life in the Green World, the color of warmth and the sun. As she stood there, she became aware of peace. The choice was made. These quiet moments held a farewell, not a struggle for decision. She turned back to the table and moved to Hades’ side, laying a light hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll eat the seeds,” she said. Hecate passed the bowl over the table to Hades. He took it and spilled seeds into his broad palm. Persephone put her fingers into the bowl. The damp red seeds were smooth and heavy. Together they ate and the taste lay sweet and tart on Persephone’s tongue. Hades poured mead and they raised their cups to one another and drank.
“You’ve chosen well,” Hecate said to Persephone. “I’m proud of you. I’ll go now and speak with your mother.” She set her cup down, rose to her feet and gathered her cloak around her. The wolf came to her side. Persephone embraced the old woman and then stepped back beside Hades. Hecate looked up into his face. “It’s time now for learning and for joy. Your place in the world calls out for you.”
He bowed his head.
(This was published with this essay.)