Eurydice, my soul...

TABLE OF CONTENTS:
INSTEAD OF THE PREFACE: The break-off
PART Ist. THE TRIANGLE OF ETERNITY. Lovers|Challenges|Penalties
PART 2nd. AT THE END OF THE DAY. Exсommunicated|The witch|About the faith and trust|Very long bills|Agreements|The lame light of hope|The power of dispair|On the edge of fate|Between the worlds

INSTEAD OF THE PREFACE

The Golden ball of sun is like a brooch
Which was by mighty hands affixed on blue azure
That from the heights is falling as a veil
Onto the mountain shoulders grey with mists.
Deep dome of skies is piercing, is resplendent and limpid –
Like a scream, like ocean waves, like tears.
On leaves the morning dew is burning as a crystal
And smells of garden herbs caresses nostrils.
( Orpheus "Dedication to the Morning", from an unsecured one)

THE BREAK-OFF

The door opened, releasing a tall man, dressed in a short white tunic with a staff and a lyre in his hands. Azure-colored cloak, long and heavy, covered his shoulders, golden hairs were clasped with a band that crossed his forehead; high, laced boots made of the soft leather were opened at the sides and elegantly embroidered. He took a long leap over the low porch, but suddenly woman's voice called out to him from the house: "Orpheus! » and he returned. On the way back he used the steps but when he reached the last one he walked along the edge of the porch decking, carefully avoiding the central section. He entered, snorted in annoyance, and sat down on a bench near the small table, facing the window; fiddled a little with an earthenware bowl that stood in the center on a beautiful linen napkin, then returned the cup to its place and carefully straightened embroidered cloth.
A clear voice asked over his shoulder:
- You are going to leave?
-  As always at this time.
- Perhaps you'd stay home?
-  What for?
-  The steps are loose, it`s easy to break the leg. When will you fix the porch?
- Never, I'm afraid. We should ask someone for help.
- Whom will you ask? We are living in the middle of nowhere.
- Once there were people here, many people, but it is really a bit empty now.
- And you remember all this?
- And you?
- No. I think we always lived like this. You went away, came back, sang your songs, ate and slept. You've never worked. That`s what I remember.
- You have changed greatly, dear wife!
- Strange enough! And you – you haven't changed at all over these years. And you still don't have any money as before. Maybe it's time to sell this lyre and buy some tableware? And to pay someone who will fix the porch before I shall break my leg or before you`ll broke your neck.
The singer cursed.
- Stop! Go have a drink. It`s more quiet when you're not here.
- You just wanted me to stay."
- I wanted you to get busy - to fix the porch, for instance, or to block the roof — it's leaking. At least you could try to sweep off the yard - that would be great too.
- You never spoke in such way before.
- And how did I speak?
- You used to love my songs once. You used to say they are beautiful and the Gods become silent listening to them. You used to say that world is whispering my hymns when falls asleep in the shadows of the night and in the flares of dew there are sounds of my music, glowing and burning like a precious stones. That in my voice is a triumph of two great forces – Love and Goodness; that it flows freely like a waterfall in the mountains or like a seagull soaring over the emerald sea wave. You used to say that my voice is light as a poplar fluff or as a small cloud with a golden edge driven by the morning breeze. And now! Sometimes it seems to me that you do not even know that such words exist.
- Don't be rude, please. And hand me that cup. All this is nonsense, never I`d said that.
- But you were saying this!
- Never - because you've never sung like that.

Orpheus, in a rage, leaped up from the bench and hurled the bowl into the open window. The dry peas that filled it to the very edge rolled to the floor with a rattling sound.
- How dare you! You, you..... -  He gasped, his eyes darkened.
Eurydice calmly turned round and splashed on him some water from the jug she was holding in her hands. Not in the face, of course, on the chest - just to stop this attack.
A black curse escaped his lips; he crumpled, and collapsed on the bench, grasping his head. Angry tears rolled from his eyes. Eurydice put a mug of water in front of him and sat down beside, stroking his hair.
- You're too tired. You need to sleep a little. There is no need to go anywhere. Stay home and do not mind the porch. We'll call someone for it. I was offered good money for that rose in the corner of the garden; no one has such flowers here. I'll sell that rose and we shall fix the porch.
Orpheus, fully surprised, looked at his wife:
- But this rose is one your beloved! 
Eurydice waved her hand in a careless gesture.
- I`ll breed a new one and even better. And now you must either go to sleep or go to the garden.
- You want me to do something?
- No. I want you to have a walk among the flowers. I want you to talk to them. Try to tell them a story and maybe they too will tell you something in return and  you will compose a song, and maybe it will be so beautiful that I shall really remember all those words about morning breeze, waterfalls and the triumph of Good.
Orpheus was silent. Eurydice took him by arm and tried to lift from the bench.
-  Oh, please!
- Good Gods! - He exclaimed desperately. - Can`t believe that you really remember nothing!
He got up and went out into the courtyard.

A slender girl, lush-haired, with deer-like eyes, widely opened and of a strange greenish hue, with her mouth capriciously curved and her nose chiseled and touched by a scattering of freckles sadly was looking after him. She really didn't remember much of what he was talking about. It seemed, they always lived here, in this distant corner of the forest, off the banks of a wide stream and no one was around in this deserted place. Passers-by were rare; the nearest village was in three or four hours of walking. The straight way through the forest was faster but only if you were empty-handed. With the luggage it was better to stick to the road that led you downhill and afterwards to the plain – there it went alongside the slope and even in the hottest daytime you could have a shelter in the shade of the trees. But the way back, especially if you had to carry something could have turned into a real trial - to overcome it last part, up the hill, was in fact an extremely hard task. That's probably why nobody used to come to listen to Orpheus. Even friends never paid visits to them, what to say about strangers! His stories of the past frightened her. Something was wrong with them; but she did not notice any oddities of her own and besides for such silliness she had no time - it all was given to the garden-care and housekeeping. The only thing she vaguely remembered was a streamside and a warm, quiet night filled with the forest noises and whispers of the water - but that was all. Was she there alone? Was Orpheus there as well? And was it or not? She was much intended to take all this as a dream because as long as she could remember, she never had the habit of sitting on a streamside in the night. The forest on the edge of which they lived was growing on the shoulder of a rocky spur - streams were watering places for wild animals such as mountain lions, lynxes and wild boars and it was dangerous to sit there in the dark.
"I must talk to him," decided Eurydice. – “When he`ll come back, I'll ask him to tell me what I need to remember, because I remember nothing - absolutely. Not a crumb."  She sighed, squatted down, and began to collect the peas from the floor.

Day was leaning to the sunset. Orpheus still was in the garden, cutting or digging something there, or carrying the water and at times it seemed that he was talking with someone. Who was his talker – he himself or the flowers as his wife offered, has remained unknown. Eurydice had no time to listen, she had to prepare the supper for tonight and the dinner for tomorrow. The meat get burned while they were bickering, peas  that she managed to gather could filled  only a half of a bowl — all  the rest had rolled  down into the cracks and holes of the floor.  Wine gone bad and now it was necessary to buy new one in the village. She had no time for such a voyage and to say the truth, she was scared of going but to send Orpheus also wasn`t a good idea — you could get tired of waiting him back. Their dissents deepened from day to day, rare hours of reconciliation were replaced by the weeks when they either held grudges or fiercely quarreled.

He rarely sang now. The lyre under his fingertips emitted unpleasant noises, harsh and weird, more like moaning and wailings. Something wrong was with it, too. And it became more and more difficult to adjust the instrument, at the same time out of tune it could go at a moment. In such cases Orpheus usually also went out of tune and began to blame Eurydice for her coldness and forgetfulness. Speaking shortly, it was not a life but a sheer frustration and they surely had to end this.
A warm breeze rushed into the house. Orpheus has entered, holding the bundle of apple branches and placed them into an earthen vase that was standing near the bowl on the linen, in the centre of the table. Eurydice set the dinner and sat down opposite her husband. Orpheus raised his head and paid her a long attentive glance.
- I see you are up to something.
She leaned forward, breasts on the table, and gently squeezed his hands with her warm, soft palms.
- It's time to talk about your songs and your stories, about all that things I don't remember. Tell me what I should remember. You ask me questions, you blame me, but you tell me nothing. Tell me now.
- It's a long story, Dice.
Dice-Eurydice smiled gently.
- We have Eternity ahead of us.
Orpheus stiffened.
- Why did you say that?
- No idea, it just came out, unwanted. Are you in a hurry?
- No. Why did you say that?
- I don't know. Never mind. Tell me. We have a lot of time until morning comes. I`ll have my chance to get some sleep tomorrow after I`ll send you to old Glaucus for the new wine. Ours had soured.
She nodded towards the large goatskin fur that was lying on the bench in the dark corner.
Orpheus laughed loudly.
- And you will you let me go?
- No matter what your story would be, I should have some time to think it over. Things between us are failing lately. And in general all is going wrong. We need to change something but at first we need to think all over carefully. So the later you will get back from Glaucus, the better. Don`t stare at me, it`s a joke.
- What happened if I shall not come back?
Eurydice shook her head.
-  Now you are trying to joke? Stop it, please.
- Well, but what if it happens?
-  Then it will be the Gods volition. But you will return. Now I'm listening to you. Tell me all.
The silence was the answer. Orpheus took his lyre and began to play something, soft and quiet. Eurydice put her hand on the strings.
- Not now. Tell me. What should I remember? Well, I shall say it in other way: why don't I remember what I simply is obliged to remember? Why don't I remember what you remember about us? What is wrong with us? And whose guilt it is?
The singer looked into her eyes. They were bottomless. They demanded the answer. There was... there was something that he had already seen before, long ago, before he went to Hades. Something so familiar suddenly has appeared in her intense gaze.

He cleared his throat and began to speak How she was bitten by a snake and how he, having no power to live without her, found the way to the Underworld. How he sang, standing in front of Hades and his wife, Persephone. And how Cerberus, who couldn`t stand the temptation to listen to Orpheus` singing had left his post at the gates and got so enchanted that stuck all his heads through the hall arches risking that he would be catched and punished for that disobedience. And how the sigh and groans on asphodel fields and the cries of pain that came from the Field of Torments had stopped for a few hours (or centuries, or moments — who knows?) And how softly and carefully opened Elysium doors because its inhabitants, the righteous, to whose services were all the pleasures and wonders of the afterlife, also desired to hear his voice. He told her how the Dark Lord of Hades shed a tear when Orpheus sung about his wife Eurydice and their love; how Persephone hid the face in her pale hands and her shoulders trembled and even in Hecate's eyes had appeared something similar to a slight shadow of compassion. And how Hades called his Brothers-Gods, and Orpheus begged for his wife to be returned to him and how they agreed. And he told of that one condition that was suggested and of the miracle that happened then, because he had failed to stand the demand and turned around. Yes - almost at the exit, yes - only for a moment, but he turned back.
- Then why am I here?
- I don't know, Dice. I was singing and your shadow was answering me…
- Wait, please!  It`s impossible! All knows that shadows are silent!
- I know, Dice. But I was singing, and I heard your voice, and I knew that you follow me. But when we were right near the exit, you suddenly broke off. I stopped so that my footsteps wouldn't drown out your voice. I thought that was the reason. I began to sing again and called for you but there was no answer. And then I got frightened - to the point of despair, to the point of death sweat. I thought you were lost forever. And I turned around. But you were there. You stood nearby, silently, looking at me. I took your hand and led outside.
- What happened then?
- You were asleep - almost for two days. All the time I was sitting beside you.  It was a great luck that we happened not so far from an orchard, the abandoned one. There were a lot of fruits on the branches and under the trees. I didn`t want to leave you alone. When you woke up we started but you walked so slowly as if you were still sleeping. I was very afraid I wouldn't be able to bring you home.
- I don't remember anything you say. Are you telling the truth?
Orpheus flushed but Eurydice put a warning hand on his shoulder.
- You mustn't be angry. It's hard to believe in what you're saying. But if it really was like that, I understand why you keep saying that I've changed.
- You are so unlike now. The poetry remained only in your appearance. Your soul has become…
He paused.
- Thanks. So what had become to my soul?
- You've become too practical. Even your good deeds are the model of rationality. And you've become hard and sarcastic; you want me to dig ditches or to cut the wood, to become a potter, a fisherman, a merchant. I am a poet, Eurydice! I am a singer - one of the greatest in this world and you, you treat me as if I`m a country fool living in a dunghill. The Gods listened to my songs and wild beasts came to rest at my feet. The trees and grasses felt silent as I sang. And you-you're laughing in my face! "You've never sung like that...." What do you know about it!!!
His voice broke; he grabbed his lyre and ran out the door. It was early morning when he returned, the stars were beginning to fade in the predawn sky. Eurydice was standing at the table, scrubbing furiously the copper tray as if trying to clean away all the grease and soot that had almost become embedded into the dull metal. Shards of the clay were scattered on the floor, mixed with apple branches, crumpled and twisted almost beyond the recognition.
-  What for did you take me away from there?!
The lyre slipped out of his fingers and crashed down to the dirty floor.
- Dice...
His beautiful wife cast the tray aside and put her hands on her hips.
- What for did you take me off the Realm of Dead? Why was it necessary to disturb my shadow and all the Gods together? Dead means dead.
- You don't understand…
- No, it`s you who doesn't understand! Look at him - he came to the Realm of Dead and took me away. It was not me! You took away the other me! Can you understand this, poor you fool! You took only my body! And all the other - my memories and all what you have told me about, my tender soul that had worshipped you and all your songs, all that damned sublime love of mine — all had been left there, in the World of Dead. You got the dummy, the doll!! That's why when you turned around, I didn`t disappear. That's why you were able to bring me back. This condition must have been not more than a trick. I bet if you hadn't turned around, you'd have come back alone. I wouldn't have been let out, and you wouldn't have been let in for the second time. I bet that's what they were all up to! That "Me» who loved you and was your beloved remained there, and I`m here now and I`m of no need to you! Because you need that Eurydice who could listen, love, and talk to you so as you remember it. But I can`t!  Go away!  Get out; I don't want to see you! I curse you!  I curse you and our first meeting! I hate you, do you hear me?!! Go, quickly, now!!!
She started to stamp her feet in hysterics. Some small objects scattered on the table flew into the wall. She was shaking her head and sobbing so hard that her heart seemed about to stop. It was unthinkable. His white dove, the precious opal of his soul, Eurydice, as gentle as the rose fragrance, fair-haired Eurydice, who always greeted him with smiles and kisses, who danced to the sounds of his songs... What was the matter, what had happened to her?!
The time from dawn to dusk turned into the agony for his soul. He couldn't stay any longer. It was pointless.  Dice — for some reason now it was much easier to pronounce this short and childish name, a nickname – Dice was right when she said that he needs that one, former Eurydice. Curls and a slender body are fine, but in the world it`s a dime a dozen while with the pure souls who can listen and attend situation is much more sadder. When he had lost Eurydice it was as if he had lost himself and now, in the end, after all his efforts he was faced with the recognition that he had failed to get her back and will never be able to do it.  His songs were going worse and the lyre sounded as if cracked. It did not mean his own gift has gone but it meant that something which fed it was absent now. He must leave now, perhaps being left alone, with his memories and dreams, he would be able to restore his former strength and glory. Not in the name of his own self, but in the name of Love.
As the dusk fell, Orpheus left the house. He quietly closed the door. He took only his lyre and a loaf of bread. All his money he has left to Eurydice. He left her all that could be sold at least for a couple of coppers: his cloaks and hoops, the set of combs, his headbands and the mirror — almost everything he had. Dice was asleep, sobbing sometimes. He left on the table the huge rosebud brought from the garden. If true they say that when a person dies the whole life is passing before his eyes, then the same had to be true for this kind of roses — being plucked they became even more fragrant than while blooming on a bush. By morning the odour will reach its extreme force and will wake Eurydice. Gentle cheer of love for the long parting.

After two days of traveling he came upon a meadow dotted with large, bright flowers and overgrown at the edges with hazel and old willows. Bees buzzed and the sun rays hung in the air like a golden dust; Orpheus lay down on the grass and tucked the bag with clothes and food under his head. He got a chance to sing some heroic ballads well as a couple of wild and not very decent songs at the central square of a small, but well-to-do village where the wedding was being celebrated. After the performance he was given food and drink, coins in his purse, and a skin of wine and bread with goat's cheese. So now he was tired, full and very sleepy. Through the half-closed lids he stared at the daisies swaying in front of his nose. If only Eurydice was here now - that one from the old times… How they would laugh now, she would dance and he would sing - as they used to, as they always did. And then she would have bowed her head on his shoulder, her arms would wrap around his neck, and the world would fade into the sweetness of their kiss. How long ago it was! So long ago that seemed it never was – just a dream, nothing more. And yet once it really was. The world around was echoing their laughter and they loved each other without any doubts and grieves.


PART Ist. THE TRIANGLE OF ETERNITY

The world of deepest black without light or heat,
World of the ghosts and shades, and of eternal sorrows,
The world of strictest silence where is no answer
No to the screams of pain, not to the quiet sighs;
In abyss dark and glum, where is no place for hope —
You grew a flower - the Rose is in your Chambers,
Her thorns are burning brightly with the gold!
Hey, look at her! By inky-grayish darkness
Her corolla is clad and leaves are trembling
Under the breath of Earth, that hot is as the Sun
Under the roars of thunders and the waves
That come along with song and breaks your borders,
That burst inside, into your gloomy limits,
And voice of mine that pierces sullen stone
Is calling Rose by name and in response
It hungers for the timid recognition!
Her answer will surpass the strength of Hades walls
They`ll have no chance to hold confession even
If they will ascend higher than Olympus,
Occluding all the world by their shades.
( Orpheus "The ode to the Black Rose", from an unsecured one)

LOVERS

After returning from the quest for the Golden Fleece, Orpheus married his beloved Eurydice and they settled in a quiet corner of the forest. Their cozy home was surrounded by the lush green garden, snow-white mountain tops were shining in the East and a wide stream was running nearby - it flowed down from the foothills and in some places was more like a small, fast river. For fresh water it was better to go up the mountain, where a clear spring hid at the roots of a huge, old spruce, and for swimming and fishing it was best to go down the slope, to the bend that was not more than an hour's walk away. And they both liked to come to the stream near the sunset when the giant beeches tiredly lowered their branches and hardened as if on guard along its banks. In the shadows of coming dusk sang Orpheus and the soft voice of Apollo lyre laid as a whimsical pattern over the incessant rustle of the flowing waters.
In the darkness of the night when he was singing of midnight grasses and dreams, falling like a heavy blanket onto the silent earth, of the mists in river valley and the silver sparks of stars, reflecting in black mirrors of the lakes, and of crystal-clear waves slowly and reluctantly sliding down from the sandbank to the sea and than running up again by greedy leaps, Eurydice was always sitting in front of him. Embraced her knees, curled up in a ball, she looked like someone's small, sensitive heart, loving and defenseless.
Songs and music of Orpheus were a miracle and miracles always require the delighted eyes. They have no interest to come into being alone; they need viewers - passionate and enthusiastic. Miracle happens when the witness of Creation also takes part in the process, when he became the Creator himself. 
Orpheus was the voice and Eurydice - the listener, perfect, same as the voice. The voice was singing and enchants the listener, who felt and sympathized succumbing to a spell, and his delight as a wave was embracing singer's soul, returning him thoughts and fantasies having been  inspired by him. What would have happened to Orpheus without Eurydice? Her compassion, love and admiration had been making them to exchange the roles: she was completing his creation and he re–opened it to himself and to the whole world as if anew. But compassion is comprehensive in its nature and though his friends and admirers gave the preference to the sun and ringing joy of the day as he did, the young nymph with her light and gentle heart, equally loved the Day and Night and it was she who first called death the Dark Princess.

- My love, your hymns are full of sunlight, of banners and castles; you sing of the faithful love and tireless joy, of great friendship and heroic deeds. You celebrate the greatness of the Night; you praise her beauty and bless the moonlight that pours like silver into the lakes and creeks. But there are darkness and silence in the world, why do you never sing about them, my love?
Orpheus put aside his lyre and embraced Eurydice. She cuddled up more tightly and put her head on his shoulder.
- Dear wife, my beloved! Darkness and silence are the fate of those who had left the world. You want me to sing about grieves and losses? Isn't it the same as to sing about the Death?
- Why do you never sing about the Death, Orpheus?
- What for? Death is cruel, cold and pointless. It comes suddenly, yanking us from the loving arms, pain and despair are preceding it and it`s indifferent to the youth and beauty. Death leads away not only old people or mighty warriors when their time comes – it`s also ruthless to the newborns and to young mothers who never will have a chance to hear the voice of their own child. Death is an evil, why must I praise her? Hundred times better is to sing about golden rays of the sun, of hot green foliage, flavor of a rye bread, whiteness of a woman breast or about nous and courage of great men!
- You are perfectly right, my dear husband. And yet, you're wrong.
Gentle Eurydice, beautiful nymph, what did you know of the darkness and silence? Orpheus, the son of Calliope, was devoted to you so selflessly, bright was his love, bright and serene, and you flourished in its rays - why did you reject it, what had forced you to seek the meeting with the Death?

- What do you know about the Death, Eurydice? You - my beloved, my life and soul, my smile and song, my fine morning! You are my sweet and my laughter - why are the evil and decay so attracting you?
- Don't know, my love... Maybe it`s a feel of justice...
- You try to be fair toward the Death? I can`t understand you!
- She's a prisoner, Orpheus, can't you see that? You, who enchants the whole world – men and beasts, trees and grasses! Sea waves, even they surrender to your song! You're so sensitive and yet so blind to the truth when it`s obvious?
- And where lays this truth, child?
- Death has no choice, Orpheus. She has no will of her own. All living is in the hands of inexorable Fates and Death is only a messenger. She comes when and where she must, and even how she looks in these moments is not determined by her own. And she is met by fear, by hatred, by despair, and only sometimes - by relief. Rarely does she come to those who meet her with joy - then, I think, she is also happy. And the darkest days happen when she comes to newborns. Their purity is a leaden weight on her shoulders. So many thoughts and feelings and regrets death sees, so many curses and complaints she hears - but she is just doing her job.
- Death is not free, that is what you mean, my love? And all she does is predetermined? No her own desires she has, no own thoughts, no own feelings, and if they are, they mean nothing and are not taken into account?
- Yes, my love. She is a prisoner of Duty. And I feel so sorry for her.

Far, very far away from the river, from its fogs and waves, on the other end of the world, in a grim stillness of underground Palace, among the polished, round columns reflecting dim lights of the torches, among heavy, gold-embroidered draperies, banners and thick carpets on the floor, that mitigate the coldness of black-and-white halls carved out of marble, a slim and frail girl in the black robe is listening to this dialogue. Dark, huge eyes in her pale face, harsh and impenetrable, tragic curve of the long eyebrows and wavy lines of non-smiling lips, white thin hands with long and surprisingly strong fingers. Tall and slightly slouching she is; in a dress heavy and straight, with embroidery that is glinting a little on the hem and on the sleeves, repeating ornament of the curtains and banners around
“Deep is your knowledge, my young nymph! Have we met already? I like your name, especially because it`s not yet in the list. That's for the best. I have no wish to meet you then I won't be able to listen to you. Here you will turn into a shadow - silent and serene”.

Trembling flame of a lonely candle. Steps behind her - heavy, vigorous, decisive.
- What are you thinking of, child?
The girl flinches, distant whispers subside and only the crackle of torches can be heard. Visitor is silently waiting for her answer.
- I`m thinking of injustice, father.
- Justice is not an integral part of Existence.
- And the Duty?
- The Duty is.
- Then why the Gods and men can do what they want? Why it is forbidden to us?
- I can't answer you, child. Not now. Any knowledge must be earned.
- I crave so much to do at least the smallest thing as I wish. At least once to do what is wanted by me only - only me!  Change something, even for a tiny bit - one time at least! Come once as I come always but in another shape, another form, another dress… in other time...not to come at all.
Pause. The girl squeezes her hands into fists:
- To leave the life of someone from the list.
Crackles and hiss of the torches died, all around stopped. Face of the Highest Judge grew dark, icy notes appeared in his eyes and voice:
- Keep silence, child!
- Father!!!
- Get silent, I said!
- I said something bad, father?
Dark hand touched her shoulder. His voice was still rigorous but now some light signs of sympathy could be heard.
- And again can't I answer you, child.
Shaking his head, he turned to the exit.
- Also prohibited? But why?! Why are so many bans?! No matter what I am asking of - you always tell me one the same: 'not in time, not now, later, try it yourself.". I'm tired, father!!!
Now she was almost shouting. Suddenly all the hall began to move, pillars started to tremble finely and torches flared brighter, their crimson flashes rushed in a dance over the walls. Girl`s rage became a wind that threw up heavy folds of curtains and even huge, carved chairs gave a creak in a protest under its pressure.
The Highest Judge raised his hand and all got quiet.
- You're self-willed and stubborn, child. You rebel against the Duty being not able to realize what it is in fact. You demand an answer but knowledge that comes as a gift has a small value.
The doors of the hall swung open to let him out.
- So I will never understand anything!
An irate exclamation made him turn around.
- I'll give you two hints, child. In first, Duty is the only purpose and meaning of our existence. And secondly, answer is hidden in the question and in a man who is asking. Good night to you!
The Realm of Dead was the Kingdom of Duty and Eternal Repose; night, silence and serenity always prevailed here and such farewells could be absurd if was not just a tribute to the fashion. Down here it was considered a "bon ton" to quote Realm of the Living using greetings and farewells, wishes and curses which were accepted up there - in same manner, trying to please the guest from another country, the hosts warmly and excitedly question him about his homeland and its customs, although, in reality, it worries them little.

And again the whisper of two lovers under the stars, near the brook. Nothing else is breaking the serenity of the night and again on the other end of the world by some mysterious way the young girl in dark clothes hears this dialogue.
- How can you feel the compassion to the unknown, Eurydice? You are full of love and laughter, flowers and grasses are around you, all is breathing, all lives! You have no idea what the Death is - how can you feel a pity for her?
- I can see her, Orpheus! She is beautiful!
- Eurydice, my love, she is disgusting!
- No, you are wrong! Many shapes she has, many masks, and when she comes to you she has that form which is in consonance with you, and with you only. In a guise that is horrible and disgusting for those who lied and killed; in garments of a healer holding fragrant grasses in her hands - when you are sick and looking for peace; as a blinding light that leaves no place to dark doubts and fears - for those who truly loved and believed. But the loveliest shape she puts on when she is going to take an innocent child's soul.
- You think the death of a person is reflection of his own soul?
- Yes, my dear husband!  But let`s cast it aside, please, sing me now and let us rejoice that we still are alive and can love each other. Our friends will come in the morning and we shall dance in the sun rays! Sing to me, sing of us and our love!

The Highest Judge was looking silently at the dark head bent over the long list of names. Stubborn, rebellious, proud and in addition - so young and imprudent. To think like she does is dangerous. To leave life for those, from the list, to change what's destined means to break the law. Free choice - that`s what upset the Equilibrium. Gods and men can afford it; men - because they are weak, and all their deeds, no matter how glorious they are, change almost nothing in the pattern of Universe. As for the Gods - they have their own rules. And not so often do they what they like, but if dare - they are always in response, and the penalty comes inexorable and irrevocable and never keeps waiting. For Immortals such fate is sometimes worse than the death.

The girl picks up the next scroll. The man, who is sitting next to her, slowly runs his hand through the candle flame. The fire does not burn him but follows his fingers as if not willing to let them go. The man thoughtfully caresses it as a little animal. Images, thoughts flow unceasingly following to the smooth movements of his hands.
The whole essence of the Universe is in eternal confrontation between the Chaos and the Order, and the Good can upset Equilibrium well as Evil.  Death which has spared that whose names were in the list will be forced to come to those, whose time had not yet expired. And who knows what consequences will have the statement -“It`s my will!" in the countless centuries and generations thereafter, even if this would happen only once? All is connected tightly, the web of the Universe stretches into the Infinity and we are in the center of it, eternal servants of the Great Equilibrium. We are the mightiest and the most powerless. We have no right to retreat a single step from what is prescript to us. Duty is the only thing we are permitted. And cannot I explain anything to her. Free will is the finest thing in the world and the most expensive. For us it doesn't exist - only the Duty, which we have to perform consistently and flawlessly. That is the price of our power and immortality. True knowledge and power are expensive but Eternity costs even more. And for all you have to pay. By your own self - how else?
And while the Judge is pondering in worries his daughter looks at the lists and cannot discern the words. Again she is listening to the distant voices.
- Tell me about the death, Eurydice. Tell me and I'll sing about it!
- She is so beautiful, this Dark Princess, whose name is The Death... her hands like lilies, her hair as a storm cloud! Tall and slender she is and her eyes are the dark mirrors glittering with the starlight... She emanates repose and a quiet joy.
- You compose songs better than I do my little pretty wife. But why do you call her so? Who told you her name?
- Nobody did, I made it up myself.


CHALLENGES

The hot summer was on wane. Evenings became cool and Orpheus left the house more often wandering alone through the fields and groves. Eurydice didn`t mind and never complained - nature faded waiting for the winter, as she did. It always was like this. Winter was the time for rest, it couldn`t be cancelled - only outlived till the next spring.
And now the lovely guise of paleface Princess was filling singer`s thoughts. When night was falling down, more and more often he found himself near the streamside where in moonlight and silence the gentle and sorrowful melodies came into being. And the closer was the time of winds and rains, the lovelier became his hymns praising Princess the Death; all nature was dying down, but his songs only gained in strength.
And the more majestic sounded his new anthem, the hotter were the hugs of two lovers when he returned home. Loneliness and sadness were replacing by hours filled with passion and joy, hours that flew by so swiftly and insensibly. The icy breath of Eternity was dissolving in the bliss and fury of desires. From death to life, from ice to flame. Hot embraces of his gentle wife made Orpheus feel more and more pity to the Dark Princess, the prisoner of Duty, bereft of love and caress, and his songs praising her sounded more and more beautiful  from day to day.
Sometimes he even couldn`t perceived whom he loves more – his wife or an image invented by her that possessed now his own thoughts. And though a fear sometimes clutched his heart, he consoled himself by idea that it was not more than a pure fantasy of Eurydice and so his worship, in fact was only a tribute to his beautiful  wife, to her gentle, loving soul and generous heart.

Once, in the twilights of windy and rainy evening, when Orpheus was sitting on the porch tuning his lyre, he suddenly noticed a woman not so far away. She walked slowly as if in thoughts and sometimes stopped looking around as if she wasn`t sure of the right path.
Dark-blue cloak was hiding her figure, its edge that covered her head did not allowed to see her face, but under the thick fabric golden hair could be seen. The wind played with her strands and she was impatiently catching them and hiding back.
The singer had noticed her when she was quite close. And jumped to his feet, suddenly realizing who was in front of him.
- Mom?!
- Good to see you, my son. How is Eurydice, your beautiful wife, is she in good health?
- She's sleeping, mom. I'll wake her up...
He rushed to the door but Calliope stopped him.
- No. I came to you, not to her.
- You don't want to see her?
- Not now, Orpheus, later.
She sat down on the step and patted the wooden surface, inviting him to do the same. He obeyed.
- Something happened, mother? You`re the rare guest.
- Tell me about your new hobby, son.
- I don't understand you.
- Then tell me about these new songs, Orpheus, about your hymns magnifying the Death. Is it really a worthy topic for you?
- Death is a part of our live, mom, you know it. What's wrong with them, aren`t they as melodic and beautiful as were my previous ones?  In any case, it`s simply the songs about a beautiful girl called the Dark Princess, prisoner of Duty, who has no power to dispose with her own destiny, who frees the others but cannot free herself. And can`t you see that it is just a poetry, mother? A fantasy, flight of thoughts - not more. I doubt that she hears me.
- And what if she does, Orpheus?
The singer burst out laughing.
- Then I hope she likes my songs! But I suppose we`ll never know it for sure. Don't worry, mom, please, let's come inside, I'll wake Eurydice, she will be glad to see you.
Calliope shook her head.
- I have to go, son.
- You came so unexpectedly and speak in riddles. Maybe you should stay longer and tell what bothers you. Don`t tell me that you took such a journey just because of these songs.
- They are dangerous, my son. And what had caused them - also.
- And again I do not understand you.
- I'm sorry to hear that, Orpheus. Farewell to you and try to think of what I have said.
The dark figure glided up and a moment later it disappeared in the night.
Orpheus cast his lyre aside in irritation.
-  To think of what?!  Annoying is all this divine secrecy! Reticence, omissions, hints - as always!  Smart little boy, when you`ll grow up you will understand it. An endless story! You haven't changed, mom!!!
Soon she found a place where she couldn't be seen, near the small river. Calliope sat down, put her hand in the water, and stirred it a little. Light swell seemed to stand still for a moment and then the waves parted spreading out to form what looked like a mirror. The cold moonlight silvered it and in the middle Calliope saw the face of Eagre, the river God.
- I saw our son, Eagre. He had refused to listen.
- You should have phrased your thoughts clearer.
- You know I couldn't.
- Oh, yes! You, the muse of hymns and poetic exaggerations, muse of science and philosophy, you certainly could not. You gave him a riddle - quite in your spirit. And now he will be obliged to solve it, to perceive it, to reflect on it. But will he care? Stop cheating yourself, Calliope, he is just a singer, our son, albeit the greatest one.
- Can`t agree with you, Eagre. When you pronounce the name, you summon the person who bears it. To provoke and to evoke means the same. Is it necessary to continue? It is so simple…
- Only for you, Calliope.

Not a word had said Orpheus to Eurydice of this strange visit. Perhaps that was mistake; together they could try to attain dark essence of the warning. But he was in such anger that even a thought of it caused the pain, almost physical one, and the more he wanted to forget what happened, the longer he remembered. No one ever tried to restrict him, pointing of what he may or may not sing. The thought that it, after all, had happened was incredibly morbid; and the knowledge that it was done by his own mother wounded him doubly. And in the end, feeling of frustration and protest only added even more boldness and recklessness to this "forbidden" hymns. The question made by Calliope: "And what if she hears you?" - burned him as a fire. It sounded as a challenge and he accepted it.

- Girl, can you hear me?
- I hear you, Voice... Who are you?
- I am you, Princess.
- You speak in riddles. Let me see you!
- It's impossible, Princess. Better tell me if you like the songs of Orpheus. He's singing of you as if he saw you, talked to you. Do you think about him as constantly as he does?
- It`s none of your business, Voice!
- Are you angry, Princess? Then your answer will be "yes"?
- What does it matter to you, Voice?
- He loves you, Dark Princess, loves, although doesn't realize it. Do you love him?
Long eyebrows met in a line, dark eyes flashed with evil fire and in the chamber a wind thinly started to howl. Princess impatiently waved her hand and threw down on the floor all the scrolls that she had just been reading.
- A stupid question!
- It`s not an answer, Princess the Death. Yes or no?
The Dark Princess jumped up in a full rage but all of a sudden get calmed and plopped back in the chair. She crossed her arms on her chest.
- Well, let`s play this game. I`m the Death – I can`t love. That`s the first. I'm here, he's there. That`s the second. I searched for his name in the lists and failed. But even if it is there - it`s too far ahead and we shall not meet soon, and when it will happen he`ll come here as all the others and will be here just a shadow - as all of them. Of what love can we speak then? That is third.
She bowed her head looking at her long fingers, pale, slightly trembling, that were tightly gripping the countertop, and a lonely tiny tear rolled down her cheek.
- And yes, you're right, Voice. I keep thinking of him. I feel warmth when he sings. When I hear his voice that summons me, something trembles inside me like a tense string. And it seems that a moment later it will burst and something terrible and beautiful will happen, something that has no name. If it means to be in love, then I love him.
- What you are speaking of is called a miracle, Princess. Something sudden and non-predetermined, something that violates the established borders changing the course of things, something that you want so desperately and what is so awfully frightening your father.
- There is no place for miracles, Voice!
- But one is already here, Princess - that is your love for Orpheus. Isn't it a miracle?
- It is doomed, Voice...
Pause. Silence.
- No, Princess. He's calling for you. You have the right to answer the call.
- What I have to do?
- Summon him; bring him here, to Hades.
- I shall never do this, Voice.
How easy to say and so hard to do. Especially when all around you remind you of things you have to forget. When gentle tune spreads like a sweet poison throughout the body and you have no place to hide from this obsession. “Don`t think of it, drive away all the thoughts, resist the power of the call! Forget all - the song, the singer, and the treacherous speeches of mysterious Voice!  I must forget it all, give it all to oblivion! Oblivion - what a thought! I must try it!”

Chambers of the Dead were spreading wide on the banks of the Sacred River; they grew with each new soul, slowly and inexorably. Windows, doors, halls were stretching as if into the Infinity.  Dark Princess was hurrying down by the long corridors and finally she approached the Gates. Chambers of the Dead had only two exits: one was facing the river and the other led out to the mountain range; behind its huge snow-white peaks were located The Chambers of Oblivion - for the Gods whom were no longer remembered in the world.
None who has entered never returned, not a word, not a sound from this place reached the world of living. Only the Highest Judge could visit these Chambers by his own wish. Dark Princess knew nothing of them, but as the death and forgetfulness in some sense are akin to each other, she was not afraid much and that’s was the reason why she suddenly has got an idea that this place can be the most appropriate where to leave all her  thoughts of Orpheus; the other way to resist temptation she had failed to find..

Shining mountains and green meadows stretched behind the mountains - Princess did not even notice when they had left behind. Stony walls in a moment had surrounded her, hanging as a threat; deep shadows were lying silently in the doorways. Princess passed the gates and found herself in a courtyard. Empty it was. Nobody was there, even no shades were. All around was bathing in a white bare light.
An arch, then a colonnade; new courtyards, new galleries and transitions, and the same again: ladders where no one walks, fountains without water, marble squares spacious and empty, benches and scattered pillows - and the dead silence everywhere. Not a murmur, not a rustle, even no wind was present here. Even echo was absent. All what was in the world - here was forgotten.
"What a terrible place” - thought the Princess. – “I have to return. Nothing I have will work. May be better to talk to Dad? But he will get angry again and won't give me an advice. I know how it will be - it`s impossible, not now, it`s your problem - do it on your own..”.
She sat down by the pool; white dust filled it to the brim. Being lost in thoughts, Princess was drawing on its surface with her finger: intricate patterns appeared and fade away obeying to the movement of her narrow hand.
"All normal people have fathers who are directing them, teaching, explaining. And moreover, all normal people have mothers who take care, listen and support them in difficult times, love them, after all. Why do I have all this wrong?”
She burst into laughter realizing unexpectedly the complete absurdity of her question, erased all what she had drawn and suddenly stopped as if frozen; next moment she jumped and looked around, nervously shaking the cloak from the adhered dust.
«Well, and what about me? I have only father? What about my mother, I never had one?  But it never happens! Maybe, I do not remember her, but why?"
The Dark Princess was almost in panic; something was going on in her mind - some guess were making their way out - furiously and irrepressible.
"That`s because she's here."
- Mom! – a desperate cry torn the dead silence and suddenly a slim white figure as if born of the wall stones moved towards her from the far corner of the courtyard… Now it was close, very close - in an arm reach.
- Mom?! – Mad mix of fear, hope and distrust squeezed the throat with a fire ring. – Mom, it`s you?! It`s really you?!
Piercing eyes, black, deep and huge, stared hungrily into the face of Dark Princess, soaking up every line, every smallest detail...
- I do not remember you. Who are you?
- I`m the Death, Dark Princess the Death.
- I see it. It`s evidenced by the ornament on your robe, but it's not your name.
- I have no other. And what`s your name?
- Can`t remember. I forget it. He is only one who remembers. I know it.
- Who is he? And who are you? Answer me!!!
Princess was almost shouting, her hands had gripped the white veil which enveloped the unknown. Last one made nothing to stop her, her veil dropped and opened the hairs of incredible beauty – dark and straight, they were flowing down to the ground as a waterfall and covered her as a dense cloak. Two figures stood facing each other: one in white, the second in black and both were harbored with an identical waterfall of dark hairs. Anyone who looked from the outside would have known at once — mother and daughter they are. But there was no one around. And no mirrors there were. No water in the pools, not even a small puddle anywhere.
The white figure has descended on a low bench not far from the pool.
- Take a seat, dear. Tell me what brought you here, perhaps I`ll be able to help you.
The story told by Princess turned to be rather chaotic but the essence was clear enough.
- So you came here to forget the singer and his songs, to get rid of the temptation? Your story reminded me my own one. I forgot the names, I don`t know who I am, when and where I lived, but I was an ordinary girl who fell in love with one who was above the Gods. Don`t smile, dear, it was he who told me so.
- Who it was?
- No idea. He called himself a servant of the Great Equilibrium. Don't know why he had chosen me; we were together for a short time. Soon after he has gone our daughter was born. She came into the world in anguish and death took me before I was able to see her face. Don't know what became of her. I can remember nothing more. Why you are calling me mom?
The Princess spoke as if in fever.
- My father serves the Great Equilibrium. I'm his daughter. I must have had a mother but I never knew her. I knew nothing of her. My father never mentioned her and I never asked. Before I came here, to the Chambers of Oblivion, I didn't even think about it. I had no questions. Why?  Maybe, that`s because you're here. And you appeared when I summoned you, when I said "Mom»!  You see?
- Yes, dear. But if so then he doesn't remember me absolutely, otherwise he surely would felt an urge to come here - same as you had; an urge to come to that only place where the chance to meet me is. But it hadn`t happen. What a pity!  I loved him, loved beyond the life. After we parted the strength left in me was enough only to give birth to the child. I remember nothing except the things connected with him. And I still remember his face.
Dark Princess gasped and run up to the pool. She kneeled down and began to draw feverishly the lines on the white dust. Imperious mouth fringed with a beard, long hair, high forehead and deep wrinkles in the corners of the tired and watchful eyes; very strong arms and broad shoulders. White figure has approached quietly and intently watched how the picture, step by step, was becoming more accurate, acquiring the depth and becoming alive.
Princess wiped the dust from her face and raised her hand to continue the line which she just started to draw - and stopped suddenly. Strange, unusual silence had gathered behind her shoulder. She turned around. Tears flowed from the huge, black eyes of the woman that could be her mother. There was no doubt that a man from the picture and a man, whom this woman loved once, unimaginably long ago – were one and the same person - her father. And there was something else, very important.
- You are my mother. And you still love him!! And no oblivion has the power over it. Mom, what should I do?!
- You have to accept your fate, my dear girl.
- I have no choice?
- You have the right to make a choice. As all have.
- You say I need to accept my fate but claiming that I have the right to choose. You open me more than my father but your words are also dark for me.
- You have to solve this riddle on your own, dearest.
It was too much for Princess. In a rage she stamped her foot, opened her mouth - and found herself on the other side of the mountain range.
- So similar you are… – murmured Princess as soon as she realized what had happened. – You are so similar, my dear parents - like peas in one pod.

- What you said?
Air has thickened, it became difficult to breathe. She was afraid - not even to turn around but even to move a little.
- My child, repeat what you have just said.
She turned finally. Their eyes met. Her sharp nails plunged into her palms; she took a deep breath trying to cope with the panic.
Her father was silently waiting for the answer.
- I said “you are so similar, my dear parents”. That's all.
- You have only me.
- That`s not true!
Words escaped her lips before she had the time to think.
- Not true? – Eyebrows of the Highest Judge met in a line, wild fire flashed in his eyes, he was speaking as if spitting out the words. -  You have said "not true"?
- Every human has the mother.
- You are not a human.
- Only for a half.
- What?! – Strong hands dug into her shoulders, now he was shaking her. Princess weakly waved her hands trying to protect herself from his wrath. It was useless. She didn't even try to escape; there was only one way to stop it - to tell the truth.
- I saw her!! I saw my mother! She is in the Chambers of Oblivion!!
His face became ashen. For a moment Princess saw in front of her a miserable old man bent under the burden of his ceremonial black-and-gold mantle; his face was rugged with wrinkles, his look got dim and sick.
She turned away unable to stand this sight and added, now in a more calmed tone:
- Why did you never tell me about it?
Silence replied her. Princess turned around – square nearby the entrance was empty. He`d gone without leaving a word.

Most of all, Princess loved the "empty" days when she had no need to perform her duty or no one was dying. Of course, it bordered with a miracle - but sometimes it happened. She wasn`t the only Death`s ambassador although only she was called Dark Princess The Death. Too many people lived in the world so it was impossible to handle her duties alone as every visit had to be personal. And there always were the wars when people were dying by hundreds and thousands and the Death messengers came to the battle fields and stayed there on duty - as the sentinels from the very beginning to the end sending their countless reflections to all those who were dying in a battle and often at the same time. These reflectance or "projections" - as they were also called were generating by the special crystal that from the times immemorial had been kept by the Highest Judge. Despite a lot of rumors one thing was known precisely well – nobody ever saw the crystal, except the Keeper and those to whom he was handing it. When all has been completed the crystal was simply disappearing from the hands of the Death.
For such cases they had an official shape, one for all of them: tunic of dirty-grey and a cloak - baggy one with a deep hood. Being faceless and formless these clothes completely hid their owner. In the hand of Death there always was a scythe that could serve both for the murder and peaceful labour and was counted as a symbol of equal fate for all living creatures in the face of Eternity. A very long handle was used as a support - sometimes the battles lasted (with some lulls and interruptions) for several days and even for the immortal Death it was difficult to stand still for so long a time.
On that days when the scrolls "for tomorrow" didn't appear on the small table in her room she was absolutely happy.

It was useless to search for her father when he had no desire to be found, so the Princess returned to her chambers. But he was there, waiting for her, sitting in her favorite chair, deep and massive. The chair's high, carved back and wide arms were upholstered in a dense and soft silk.
- I must thank you, child. Without your courage and the self-will I would never have a thought of her.
- She still loves you, dad.
He was silent for a very long time.
- I love her, too, child. I still love her and you too. More than I should have. More than I was allowed.
-What are you saying?
- Death was supposed to pick you up on the next day. I didn't have a chance to save your mother. But I had a chance to save you.
- And you did it… - whispered she in tears, dazed and astonished. She knelt down, took his hands and kissed them.
The Highest Judge silently watched the flame of a lonely candle in a clay cup placed in the center of the table. Torches on the walls hissed and sputtered with a purple flame, shadows had turned deeper and sharper, somewhere the wind was howling - glumly and impatiently. No matter what happened on the surface – here nothing was changing. How this dialog would affects the future no one can say but she had earned this knowledge, this time really earned.
To come on her own will to The Chambers of Oblivion, to reveal the secret that was buried there, to remembered what she had never known, to bring back the memories to a woman who had been placed there to make her forget everything she had ever known and to be forgotten by everyone,  and moreover - to awaken the feelings that should have no existence in the world of Duty and Eternal Repose, to awaken in both of them - one who had forgotten, and in the other, who had been forgotten, that was a miracle, which has no right to exist here. Although he was proud of his daughter, some clammy fear gripped his heart. He didn't tell her everything. There was something else - the price of her salvation and his willfulness and also the price of her feat of today. But next time about this and maybe she will figure it out for herself. Tomorrow is her "empty" day, so there will be plenty of time to think.

The night, or rather the time that was considered as night here, got restless. Several times the Princess awoke; the air was stifling and unsettling. She managed to sleep at last but not for long. The soft bell tinkling made her jump out of bed - a scroll was lying on the small table near the door. This was her task; the "empty" day was canceled. Princess the Death opened it and saw only one name. Her mood, which already was not at its best, now was completely ruined. It was a baby, a newborn - so it was time to get dressed.
Now she wore a white robe - light and weightless as a feather, flowing like a wave and shimmering silver like stardust in the night. Wreath of the roses and lilies - flowers white, languid and fragrant.  The dark waterfall of her hair had turned to gold, her eyes had taken on a sky hue and a faint blush covered her pale cheeks. Am I ready? I have to go. Time never waits -never and no one. What a pity! She had hoped to stay home. To stay, to think, to dream of the singer, of a meet and of love that is forbidden to her - once and for all; of love so unreal and impossible, so sweet and alluring. Another time, then, and now it`s time to go.


An oppressive silence enveloped the world. The light wind died away, the clouds above stopped, and a deep black shadow filled the meadow for a moment. And suddenly child began to cry-loudly, desperately; the young mother grabbed him and in a panic rushed to the house, without looking around. She ran inside and slammed the door as hard as she could as if trying to block the path of the unknown evil. Dark Princess the Death, in her shining white robes, stood motionless in the green sea of grass, looking after them. Distant thunder rolled across the sky, dark shadow disappeared, and the wind began to blow again. He picked up the light fabric and swirled it, and the next moment the Princess was in the underground chamber. Lit by the crimson flames of the torches she stared thoughtlessly into space in front of her. She did it after all. She left the life to one from the list. She left him to live.
“My Orpheus, only love pushed me to this madness. I have no regrets. For long nights I dreamed staying alone, that once will come a day when I shall turn away from the doomed and say: "You're free!" Not hatred and fear shall I see in his eyes then - only joy and gratitude. And maybe love - love for one who brought him back to life. I have no idea why do I need this foolish feeling that doesn`t listen to any reasons and arguments but with all my heart do I crave for that stupid fairy tale about two people each of them being as a whole world in the eyes and soul of the other. I guess, I'm a freak, not like all others, here I'm only one, however, such non-alike; but so great is my desire to love, love you, give the life to the world - not to take it! Love you, my singer, all I have is a dream about you, you and your love that fills hymns in my honor, it`s like a warm hand on my shoulder, like a touch of cool water to the lips cracked from the heat... please don`t deprive me of it...”

Roar of the door opening.
Furious eyes of the Highest Judge: his words like the huge stones falling down on her shoulders.
- You did it after all! How dared, you?!
- Father!
- Be silent! Go back and take another soul! Instead of this child! Do you hear me? You must return! Today, now, immediately! Go back!!!
- Father, I can't!!
- You have to! It's your Duty. Go, now!!
Scream from her throat, tears from her eyes, hands outstretched in a desperate pleading:
- But I do not know, father! I don't know whom I must choose!!
Dead silence. Torches went out. Her father`s hoarse voice as if tearing her in pieces:
- This is for you to decide.

Dark Princess the Death - frail, dark-haired and dressed in black-and-gold, huddled in a ball on the cold and stony floor: flame of a candle, scared, trembling — as she is. Just as helpless and lonely. You have to pay for everything. How else could it be?

- Take Orpheus, Princess!
- No. I can't...
- Of course, you can. He has to be summoned.
- Be summoned for death? But I love him!
- He also loves you, Princess. You remember - he called you. One, who dares, assumes on his own cast all the consequences of his challenge, so you have the right to do it. He praises you, he remembers you and he loves you. You will be together because you want it - both of you. And this is your only chance to undo what had been already done, Dark Princess the Death. Nothing else matters. Summon him!
- Yes, Voice. I'll ... I'll call him. Thank thee.
- Don`t thank me, Princess. I was glad to help you. I like you.
The voice subsided. Flared up the torches, dried up the tears and a small scroll was lying again on the table by the door. And, as in the morning, the list had only one name. Singer's name it was.

Princess, Princess! What you`ve done, why did you listen to the Voice? Had you obeyed to his power or maybe to your own heart? Do you remember his words: "I am you, Princess! ».   Dark Princess the Death, you made a mistake. Unprofessional work! To break the law you need to know what caused the ban. You should have taken another life. The magic of creation is the magic of co-creation; once it had bound Orpheus with Eurydice and later it has bound her with you. Only one more line was needed and you draw it, Princess, and the Divine Triangle - equilateral, tantamount - had transformed into a circle, into the unity. You stretched your hand over the head of Orpheus - but you took them both.

Two lonely shadows are wandering around the Palace of Hades. The silent man with a lyre - he holds it tightly in his hands, his head down, his steps falter. He is wandering along the banks of the River Memory; sometimes he goes down to the water when the thirst torments him too much. He remembers all that belongs to the Upperworld, but he doesn’t hear or say something. Another is a woman who often comes to the banks of the River and watches how that one with the lyre is wandering restlessly. Sometimes she tries to interrupt this mindless monotonous striding and to speak with him — but always unsuccessfully. The woman cannot drink from the same source, she must use the water of Lethe but it has no power over her. Lethe's waves cannot cloud her mind or extinguish her memories - they only give the quietness to her and prevent from slipping into madness because unlike the others who are mute and silent, she can hear and she can speak. When she stops her efforts to catch the attention of the man with a lyre, she is sleeping for long hours in the shadow of the Palace` walls or at the roots of the white cypress which grows on the river bank. None of these two approach the other inhabitants of the Realm of Dead and immediately disappears when anyone is coming closer. In the Underworld is not accepted to impose your own society so these two lonely figures are left alone. Sometimes, along the alley of the black poplars, which leads from the Palace to Hecate’s dwelling, a girl comes here – tall, dark-haired girl dressed in black and gold.  Dark Princess the Death (of course, here she is!) always stops near the last row and hidden by trees shadows silently is watching her charges -Orpheus and Eurydice. Pain and doom you can see in her eyes.

"My sweet child, the freedom is limited only by responsibility and if all is predetermined than you need not to be in response for the consequences whatever they may be. If everything was decided not by you – you're not to be blamed".
- Nonsense it is, The Highest Judge! How it is "not to be blamed"?
- Voice, it`s you again, and again you are arguing, ordering, contradicting... Well, if so, tell me what`s her fault?
- It's so simple, my old chap! If everything was decided not by you then you have to be blamed for the decisions taken by others instead of you!
-  Really so simple?  Oh, you`re simply playing with the words, Voice.
- Not now, my old chap! I think you should be more careful since it`s you who is the ultimate authority in all of this! Sometimes predestination is more dangerous than the free will and in the end can cause much more harm than undisguised disobedience - you have to know well how it happens.
- It`s insolence, Voice! All your words are nonsense! Free will is the enemy of the Duty; it brings accidental into already predetermined! This is unacceptable!!
- Then tell me why, old chap!
- Because it opens the way for the further violations... and stop calling me the “old chap”!!
- “It opens the way” – what a clear head you are! Certainly, my old chap – all is going precisely as you say!


PENALTIES

Dark Princess the Death left the Court Lounge. Doors shut behind her back, she crossed vast and gloomy waiting hall, came up to the narrow window and stared irritably at heavy black-and-golden drapes that covered it. Too deeply had she gone into her thoughts and paid no attention to the easy sound of the footsteps. Someone put a hand on her shoulder, she jerked and threw it off; and the deep voice, so familiar and resonant, asked her:
- You are angry, child?
- I'm punished.
- Yes, you're punished, my child. Don`t you know why? Have you guessed what for?
- For breaking my Duty. I know. You said it.
- No, my child, only for your awkwardness.
The Princess turned with the speed of lightning.
- Awkwardness?! In what, where? All knew - he composed hymns in my honor, I had all the rights to do it! You know, one who is calling assumes on his own all the consequences of his challenge! Gods do the same and nobody punish them!
- Dark Princess the Death, you made a mistake. You took not one life, but two! Gods do not allow themselves such misfires and if yes - they too are chastised. You had no right to take Eurydice.
- I didn't want to take her life. It was an accident - I told you! She had simply happened along!
The Highest Judge sighed, repressing the impatience and irritation, and then gently stroked the dark fabric of the gold-embroidered sleeve.
- I tell you again - you made a mistake, my child. Unprofessional work it was. You must be ashamed.
Icy fire has flashed in her eyes.
- I am ashamed. What else?
- You will serve the sentence in full. And later they both will come to you.
- But what if the Olympians would interfere? You know, they can!  They can take them to Olympus, make them immortal. And never – can you hear me?! -  never shall I see him again...
Light smile has touched the lips of the Highest Judge.
- You are so much vexed and offended, my dear child that you totally had lost your ability to think... Here, on this side, are not only The Chambers of the Dead, but also The Chambers of Oblivion - for the Immortals.
Her pale face, hidden by the shadows, suddenly lit up in a sign of hope and understanding.
- You mean...?
- Yes, my child. The lot of any God is Immortality but not the Eternity. Oblivion - that is the true death for any of them. When the smoke of sacrifices will be dispelled on the Earth and the ruthless Time will ruin the walls of the Temples - only the white, cold and empty statues will be left of the almighty Olympians.  The Divine Fire of their souls will return into the void where its way once had begun. And they will come to us; will come to thy Chambers, to the Chambers of Oblivion - all of them, and all those, whom they rewarded with Immortality. So, please, do comfort yourself, my child; I swear, they both will come to you and both will be in your power.

Dark Princess the Death turned away and hid her face in hands. She can`t, she must not show anyone feelings that had overwhelmed her after these words!  The Highest Judge silently was standing behind her, gently embracing her shoulders and the only thought was beating as a hammer inside his head: "Path for the violations is open."  Well, then the official version is not forever either. Who knows how it will really turn out? They could forgive her taking Orpheus instead of that child -¬ such substitution, in fact, is not more than a slight scam, one of that they are constantly practicing here. But the fact that she grabbed two instead of one — this was really criminal. Such mistakes are worse than the crime itself because cannot be hidden and the worst of all it was that this mistake has been made totally against her will. It wasn't her fault, she really didn't want to take Eurydice and how could she do that, it's impossible! And don`t forget of that last two tasks! Only one name in the scroll — it never happens! But it happened — which means that there are forces in the game that are far more powerful than the Gods. And again that damned Voice with its taunts and tripping! How inopportune it all is! »
The time dragged on endlessly. The torchlight had lost its brightness, the gloom had thickened and flowed along the walls flooding the hall and everyone who had taken part in her trial had long since left. Her father had gone too - he patted her hair in a farewell gesture as he had done when she was a child, but the Princess still was standing at the window, wrapped in the heavy folds of the curtains as if in a cloak.

- It`s all right, - was whispering she to herself, - all is so, as it has to be…
And finally, the smile, tender and playful, has deepened the wavy lines of her lips.
- Man is not eternal, not eternal are the Gods. And you will come, my Orpheus – sooner or later, one way or another. And I shall not be strict or vindictive, no, I`ll be just impartial - that`s all. Long ago, in the very beginning, I didn't summon you; it was your choice to sing me. You will come again. The Eternity is my possession well as the Memory. Everyone who will recall you will recall me. All for the best - everything is as it should be…

Dust is around. The blackness of the space is full of dust. Giant and translucent creatures of the strange shapes reaching out to each other, pushing each other, playing catch-up and collide foreheads piercing each other through and through -  people call them galaxies. Starry whirlpools, star streams, star rays, boundless oceans with myriads of blazing suns are around me. Sometimes I feel great temptation to take a part in these games but I always stop myself. When the time will come, I will be summoned, no sense in asking, nothing good will come of it. But these games are so beautiful and – what is most important - so inspiring for the mental processes that I can't deny myself the pleasure of admiring them. In this boiling infinity of stars and explosions one always can find a quiet place to relax and concentrate, and to think thoroughly.
"It's all right, it's all right" - is it necessary to be repeated endlessly? True it`s said: "Make a fool pray to God and he would smash his forehead". Bored I am, my faithful servants, bored with you and so nothing is left but to push the scales myself. If you will be allowed, my dear followers, you will destroy even the Balance itself in the name of a Duty, and no matter that you were put on guard to keep it. But I am living thing, breathing one, I wish to evolve and you are making the prison bar of me. Too serious you are, lack in humor and the self-will. Don`t you see that without my traps long ago you could have lost what you had to serve to. Playing on my own is too dull because every move is known beforehand, therefore I`m obliged to introduce some uncertainty into the game; in other words, to use those who are endowed with free will and make them to collide foreheads with you, my dearest servants, and among themselves. And I have to do this, because if in the center of this, as you have put it, web, all will stop — the evolution itself will stop also and the whole Universe will torn be apart it millions of dead pieces. The Death and the Balance are very different things, my precious friends... ».

Thin silver cloths like a swan wing. White foam, waves and star lights; salty taste on the lips, narrow feet on the coastal sand... Nebulous reflections in a mirror, scattered roses, old wine, ringing voices and laughter...

- Where you are, Voice?! Answer me!
- Here I`m, my Goddess, the Finest...
- Voice, you must stop them!!
- My Lady, the Finest, I can't ….
- It`s a lie! You are omnipotent, I know you can!
- Alas, my Goddess, it`s only illusion...and what for shall I do that? Are you against it? The Council of the Gods made a concession for two loving souls – it is so beautiful!
-  Are you kidding? It's a trap! It's unfair!
- Do not exaggerate, The Finest… one small condition...
- He wouldn`t fulfill it, Voice! He's not a hero, he's just a singer and he is in love... he surely will turn back - to see whether Eurydice follows him or was lost, lagged behind? It is so obvious...and the Gods know it, their small stipulation is just a trick. They do not want to let her go!
- I see, The Finest.  Orpheus must return alone. He's a poet, a singer, a genius, so neither his words, nor his songs about this incident will be taken seriously. People will treat them as a fairy tale, as something beautiful and edifying. No one would believe his stories about the Dark Princess or about the Court. No one will know how The Death Chambers or the faces of the Gods look like because no one would believe that he really saw it all.
- Quite so, Voice! And if he will insist, well, people would think he`s crazy but that is the fate of almost all geniuses, that`s nothing strange!
- Understand that. They have to be returned and they can`t be returned.   Eurydice, poor thing, she`d better stay - Orpheus doesn`t not love her anymore, he will turn around and your brothers are much counting on it. They are sure, in fact. That`s resent you?
Aphrodite straightened up and tightly wrapped herself in a flowing silvery veil. Dark blue eyes narrowed.
- You guessed it, Voice. To the Gods and geniuses all is allowed, especially if these geniuses are the children of Gods. I need your help. It was me who gave Eurydice this gift - the gift of Love and Compassion. I gave her the great power - the power of empathy and communion, great talent to wait and call. Never, ever, had anybody got anything like this before and I can`t let the memory of her existence to disappear but it surely will happen, if Orpheus will come back alone.
The Goddess stamped her foot and the blue lightning suddenly flashed at the horizon. Dark flame of anger flared up in the depths of her pupils, eyebrows met in a line and her whole body leaned forward:
-They must return together; do you hear me, Voice?
- Yes, my Goddess. I'll help you.

Narrow hands had grinded in a powder the dried rose petals and now the crumbs, sharp and dry, slowly were swirling in a sun column, and dropping down onto the smooth, white marble floor.
- Voice, do you remember me? I had your promise.  Why are you delaying?
- I remember your request, The Finest. But it`s impossible to emerge unchanged from the Death Chambers - even the Gods are powerless here and I’m not the exception, I`d told you. So the genuine soul of Eurydice will stay here, with The Dark Princess whose sad fate once had moved our young nymph so greatly. Together with Orpheus to the Upperworld will return only her body and the false memory. But the body without a soul won`t be necessary for the singer, and he will leave soon to seek a solace and to sing about the past. All who knew Eurydice will turn away from her wondering and whispering in fear, and she will die alone, rejected by them all, and later Orpheus also will leave the World of Life. Our little Princess will get them both in her disposal until the end of times and will never forget her mistake. And in the World of Life never they shall be forgotten, the two, whose love forced the Death to rebel and be defeated. To rebel against the Duty, against the Eternal Repose and Predestination, and to receive as a reward the Eternal memory of mankind that means the Eternal life - Eternal Life for the Death.

Glow colored in the tints of wine and blood - like a narrow band right above the horizon.... Waves, furiously tormenting the deserted sandy shore... And lonely slim figure in the pale light of the stars, in the white foam of the surf round her feet; her silvery veil ripping by the wind enwraps her shoulders, dark blue eyes, the eyes of the Goddess, are peering anxiously into the darkness of the stormy clouds over her head.
- You had deceived me, Voice! Why? I wanted to bring Eurydice back to the world — along with this gift, with the divine fire put into her soul. And now you left it here. I wanted to make the world and people beautiful! And now this divine fire will live only in human dreams. And it was done by you, who are so fond of mortals and all unexpected and undefined!  I`m afraid, you fell into your own trap, Voice!
- Not at all, my Goddess. I did everything right. We had had already Prometheus. That`s enough. The world will not stand the power of the Divine Fire, it is bursting at seams even from the rare sparks that sometimes, is not known how, are erupting in human hearts.

The silence lasting….
- "Not known how"?  What are you about, Voice?
- Let`s talk it off later, Aphrodite... I'm in a hurry.
- Voice, it`s a joke? You and a rush?!
- Don't worry yourself, my Goddess. All for the best.  All as it has to be.

Precisely! Only one point - each of us has his own “how it “has to be", one that is personally needed. And only I possess that one which is necessary to all of you, and is out of need for myself. And I`m quite ready to understand you, my dear Goddess of Love - the Chambers of Oblivion had frightened you so much that you decided to secure the Eternal life. "To the Gods and geniuses all is allowed..."  I see.
No doubts that the return of Eurydice from the Hades with such a flame inside her soul and with a full memory of what had happened to them both in the Realm of Dead can be quite capable to turn over the world even during that short time which will be left to her. Certainly, the Gift shall quickly draw out all her life forces and she will come back but in a meantime Orpheus` hymns will make underground secrets well known to mankind. And the flame of Gift surely will add an unprecedented persuasiveness to these beautiful and mysterious songs.
And so I have to say "No" to you, my froth-born Goddess - this won't be as you wish! Crime it is to throw so recklessly such presents all around and that you had your own reasons does not justify you.
For long was grumbling and complaining the Voice - sometimes it is absolutely necessary.   There is knowledge that can be shared and cannot be trusted to anyone. All of us have our own burden.
And again the starry twists in all directions as far as the eye can see, again the coldness of boundless spaces and again the loneliness… and only the thought of everything going wrong without you give the strength and sense.

I wonder if I'll ever disappear.
Will there ever be a day when I’ll be nowhere?

Long underground halls, flames of the torches and cold marble plates of black and white; young girl in a dark robe, wrapped in the waterfall of her hairs, with her hands folded in front of her chest, fingertips gathered near the lips in a gesture of silence and concentration. Silky wet eyelashes lie on her pale cheeks.
- You have my thanks, Voice.
- Mere trifles, my Princess!  I like you, haven`t I told it?

Damned by all is this place - The Realm of Rest and Duty, but right here, in the end, will meet the right one and guilty, and all the deeds will be completed and we shall learn the true value of all we`ve done. The true story is being written here.



PART 2nd. AT THE END OF THE DAY

In silence of the night I`ll give the life to you
To make you laugh with winds that blow from the heights
To let you greet the sun and light of morning dew…

I wish that garden to become your shelter!
I want that shady shades and coolness of the air
To hide delicious blushing of your petals!

Let the majestic stem and iron steel of thorns
Be shrouded by the gentle haze of evening
And filled with golden-burning rays of sunset
And with the sparks of rain dancing to the beats
On leaves of apple trees and pomegranate bushes,
Where in the thicket of the fragrant twigs, the shadows
Are intertwined so ravishing - like lace,
Or like the hands of lovers that had met
After the ages of the separation.
 
But day is fading and as if by heavy waves
The silence comes to cover fields and forest,
And you will get at last the rest and peace.

And just like precious and delicate fabrics
Which as the clouds embrace the Goddess` body,
The silver mist belonging to the Night
Will wrap you and will be your silky clothing!
In their loving arms my Rose you`ll get asleep!
I`ll come to you in dreams - and chant of mine will come,
It will be born as day - with sunny dawn,
And it will be the joy for you,
For all the world and for life eternal.
( Orpheus "A Lulaby For the Rose", from an unsecured one)

EXCOMMUNICATED

When the door closed behind Orpheus, Eurydice stopped sobbing and opened her eyes. The huge, yellow moon disk that hung at the horizon was crossed by the tree branches. In the yard cicadas were chirping and somewhere in a distance the owls softly called to each other. The house was dark and quiet. Eurydice lay motionless, as if she was afraid that even a slight move of her finger might stop Orpheus or force him to return.

"He must go as far as possible. I don't want him coming back. What I want is to wake in the morning and find such a great distance between us that it would frighten me and prevent to rush after. I must let him go. I don't want him to come back. He mustn`t live with me here. He has to go.  I`m someone other, don`t know whom, but I`m not his Eurydice.... Maybe she never existed. Maybe he made her up for himself. People say poets do that. They are inventing someone beloved for themselves and live all their life with this fantasy in thoughts and dreams. Maybe he made all this up - all this story of Hades and the girl. He simply called her with my name. Well, he must have loved me once if he got married. I doubt he became my husband simply because from the curiosity".
The scent of the rose had reached her nostrils. Soft and intoxicating, by invisible waves it was spreading all around the room and it seemed to Eurydice that like a kerchief made of the finest cloth, it`s enveloping her body, sliding over her face, over her hair, and over her lashes wet with tears.
He left me a rose. Farewell kiss of the true love, the last "forgive me". Right as it is sung in songs. Great Gods, but why, why does not she remember what he remembers? What's wrong with her? If she is all right - then Orpheus is mad. And if his memories are not lying - then she is not all right, absolutely. But if everything was as he told her this gap in her memory can be easily explained. Or not?
What did I cried - «you took another me"? Almighty Gods, certainly, of course, of course, it’s so much alike the truth! He got only my body. No, it doesn't work so! But that Eurydice he remembers really doesn't exist. What could have happened to me in that cursed place? Maybe there were two of us, two Eurydice, one was taken by the death and the other returned with Orpheus? But then where did she come from? I don't understand! »
It was already bright morning outside the window. Small birds were modulating the gentle fancy trills leaping from one branch to another, sound of the bees was hanging in the air, filling the entire space, thick bumblebees hummed in bass voices, and butterflies of different shapes and amazing colors were scurrying from flower to flower. A new day was beginning for everyone and new life has begun for Eurydice. Now she will have to learn how to live alone, but that Eurydice whom Dice remembered had for long all the same lived alone most of the time. "I`ll manage it".

In the nearest village where they usually were buying wine and all other stuff Eurydice was not popular. She was beautiful and intelligent, with too practical eye and overly sharp tongue - not the most pleasant combination for all around. On the contrary, Orpheus always was a welcome guest; he had been called, waited for and greeted with joy when he came. But too seldom it happened and even more seldom did the villagers pay their visits back to him. Too far it was for walking without any deals and interests in common. Later, when the quarrels began and Orpheus started to disappear for some days, Eurydice had been faced with worrying changes. Whispers and impudent, ringing laughter were flying now in her back, women deliberately and loudly started to discuss evil wives-bores from which their husbands run headlong. The men never laughed at her but there was either pity in their smiles, saying "the stupid little thing you`re", or the lust and both had infuriated Dice to white eyes and so her replies in their sharpness and stinging force were like the hunter`s knife.
All this didn`t add the sympathy towards her so Eurydice began to visit the village market less and less often sending her husband for everything what was necessary. Until now, even when he was away she could live on with that supplies she always had and she always could wait for his return. Now it was necessary to think how to find the common language with villagers. A barrage of taunts and insults was waiting for her impatiently. Only one thought of it gave Eurydice the great desire to get up in a moment and leave for somewhere.  Wait a bit, she told herself. Maybe all will be fine. She would say that he had gone on business, far away. She'll invent something connected with his lyre, for instance. Yes, great, exactly! Here, around, was not a single craftsman who could make a lyre, even the worst one, while Orpheus - as all knew - had the instrument that once belonged to Apollo himself. A fairy tale it was, of course, but now it was really a salvation. In order to revive the dying lyre - gift from one of the immortal Olympians, one could go to the edge of the world. All the more because in the neighborhood already knew that the voice of lyre day by day is getting worse. It was as if a disease had struck her and she moaned and complained, as if begging for help. Orpheus, hearing these sounds, always became gloomy as a thunder-cloud. He was afraid that this was the wrath of Apollo, and once, after a fair amount of undiluted wine, said that the God had given him this lyre without a thought that he would get the rival. Those who had the misfortune to displease Apollo were sometimes treated quite ruthlessly by the latter. All knew about Marsyas, from whom one of the most Enlightened Gods despite all the talks of refinement and high ideals had flayed the skin for a small and in fact absolutely innocent offense. Having found a flute made by Athena that could play wonderful melodies by itself Marsyas could not resist the temptation and did not refuse from the undeserved laurels, and ingenuously agreed with the flatterers that he played better than Apollo himself. It was a void and harmless braggadocio, an utter foolishness, but Apollo got angry and challenged Marsyas to a contest and Olympian God won it from the second try and only after setting a trap for Marsyas in which that simpleton got without any understanding of what is going on.
So Orpheus fears were well founded and now Eurydice could use them to hide the disappearance of her husband as long as it could be possible. She had a strong feeling that if  the neighborhood will open out that Orpheus was gone for good - nothing good will await her,  she would have to give up all she has and go away, too. It seemed to her that it was she who was thought to be guilty in what had happened to the lyre. As long as they were sure that he would return, I would be safe - she was thinking.
Eurydice hadn`t even suspected how close to the truth these fears are and how accurate is her own assessment of the situation. That was exactly how it was in reality.  And she had to face it yet.

Days were passing by, gathering into weeks and months. She rarely came to the village - only for the most necessary things. She picked berries, set snares for small game and even fished up the stream where almost no one appeared due to the large number of wild animals in this area. She get used to the whispers and gossips and in response to all questions kept saying that Orpheus had gone to find a master who could repair Apollo`s gift. The villagers listened to her with averted eyes. They had no faith to her. But her explanations were more or less truly so they kept quiet for now. It was generally agreed that she was responsible for the misfortune, both with lyre and Orpheus. They idolized the singer, were incredibly proud of his neighborhood, and boasted about him wherever they happened to go. Orpheus talent, which equated him with the Gods, also was elevating them, his neighbors and acquaintances, above the ordinary, unremarkable inhabitants of other villages and lands. As if the fact that his house was not far from theirs, and his feet were on the same roads as their own, made them as talented, wise, and beautiful as he and his songs. Following this tune they were raising prices for strangers on the market days and took them to the house of the singer - to show it quietly, from afar. And for this they naturally also charged a fee. If they managed to find the singer at home - the price doubled. Well, if the Fate favored the tricksters so much that they could not only see the singer, but also hear him sing sitting on the porch or on the lawn, under a tree, then the guests risked to leave in the hands of their guide all the cash they had with them.

The summer was almost over. It's been six months as Orpheus left her and in this time she had been visited almost by all his friends and acquaintances that lived nearby. She never thought that they knew the way so well. When Orpheus was here they never approached the house. To all their questions and doubts she answered one the same: waiting, he has to be back. Yes, I`m praying to the Almighty Gods for granting at least one more meeting... and so on.
One evening a rock flew through the window. If she hadn't gotten up to sweep the floor, the rock would have hit her in the head. Eurydice rushed outside but it was already dark and she saw no one. She waited a little, listening. A rustle and some movements went from the fence to her right, and suddenly another stone whizzed past her ear and hit the jamb with a clatter. Eurydice hurried into the house. The sound of running feet told her that the intruder was not alone.
That night she wept as fiercely as she had on that day when, almost beside herself, she was screaming at Orpheus: «Hate you! Go away! » And just like on that day she had a feeling that a little more and her heart would stop. Tears burned her eyes; her breath was caught in a throat. "Why, Almighty Gods, why do you punish me?" -  whispered she, over and over, like a spell, like a curse, like a pray. "You must live until morning. When the sun will rise, it will be easier. Its night - you’re scared, you're crying in fear. At the dawn you`ll be better".
She tried to convince herself. She begged her own self to live till the morning, to endure this torture, not has been choked with tears, with despair and offence as huge as the world. What for and why? Was she to be blamed for what had happened to her? Did she ask for such a fate? Well, now she had done all she could. She let him go. No, she didn`t let him go — she drove him away! How can a man stay when someone is shouting in his face: "I hate you, I curse you, go away...." No, he will leave, and she would have been gone too, if someone had been shouting at her like that. Or perhaps, not... No, she wouldn't. She would have left at first but come back anyway. After all, a person can scream in a fury, outside himself - as it was with her then. But maybe in fact he thinks differently. Maybe, he wants to be hugged and whispered "love you", and then he`ll whisper in return «Love you! Forgive me! Love you so, up to tears, up to pains, up to the break of the heart I love you»…
She should have freed him: for a singer his songs are the main, his songs and his lyre. And no matter what exactly harmed them, was it her presence or the wrath of the Gods - his lyre was falling silent more and more often, new songs were not born, cold and darkness crept into the heart of the singer. He had to leave. His whole life was in this lyre. He had to save it, he had to save himself, and if that meant making all this noise, insulting him, hurting him to death, driving him away — well, she had done it. Maybe he`ll manage to turn it all back. And maybe he will yet be back. She waited but she knew – never, he`ll never return. But it was necessary to live somehow, and so, waiting, it was easier. When you have something ahead, you have the sense to go ahead. Otherwise only death remains. Well, it`s also an exit. At least all will be over. No, she told herself, not now. She must wait. He'll be back. He'll understand her and come back. And she, in the meanwhile will try to solve that mystery of two Eurydice.
Several more weeks passed. Autumn was near but no sign was from Orpheus. Eurydice had grown thin, her hands became rough, all her clothes and jewelry had been given up. There was no one to preen for. She stopped going to the village and no one came to see her. The soul was like a string stretched to the very limit. Something was growing there, deep down, and she could feel it. Sometimes she stopped for no reason, gasping because inside her, from the depths of her chest, something came, rushing out - demanding and insistent. It was breaking out like a fire, engulfing her shoulders and her neck and she instinctively was crossing little palms on her chest as if trying to cool the raging flame and it was fading, as if hiding for a while.

Her situation was not yet disastrous, she had enough food, plenty of water, and if talking of the clothing, what special do you need when there are only birds and animals around? Warm garments for the winter and brushwood in the forest were at her hand in enough. Eurydice was not afraid of wild animals, they did not approach the house and the rare daytime meetings near the stream or in the woods ended with them running away from her as if in fear. But the birds were her best friends and the plants under her hands bloomed so richly that people in the neighborhood were always in astonishment. "Secret word she knows" - were the gossips. For instance a rose - we all have one grade. All ours are the same but her roses are special, absolutely unlike others as if taken from completely different bush or had been grown elsewhere. And so it was with everything — flowers, fruits, herbs. It seemed that even trees that grew around her house had the crowns more lush and green than of their kindred who were unlucky to grow up so close.
Loneliness was not a burden for her. She could spend hours talking to the plants in the garden and to the birds that in numbers were fluttering among the branches; but she missed Orpheus greatly, and not so much his songs and music, and not even his voice, but simply the warmth of his hand, or the attentive gaze, or the slight smile that always lifted the corner of his lips. She missed his very presence, or moreover, that very knowing about his presence. In past days, when he left, she always knew that he will be back and this knowledge, this expectation was warming her. She got used to it and thought it would always be like this. Perhaps she had been too harsh with him - and too often. It was her mistake, she is certainly to blame, because he really was the great singer, one of the greatest in the world, and he was not a liar when he was shouting it in her face. But for Eurydice, above all this, he also was her husband, a man who besides his great God-given talent had also very ordinary human responsibilities. And she never asked for much — just usual chores and never, never she asked him to do what she could do herself — only that what she couldn't.


THE WITCH

The day passed too quickly as if she had just opened her eyes and it was already an evening. She couldn`t even realize what she has managed to do of what she had planned and what has failed. No matter. In Orpheus` absence all days were the same. She was obliged to inventing all the time something special for every of them to keep herself from going crazy of their monotonous passing by. The Day of Water, the Day of a Pink Rose, the Day of Firewood… Days of Tears. The Day of Despair. Today was the "Day-Lightning" and dark clouds at the sunset corresponds it perfectly. Somewhere it grumbled, somewhere a storm was gathering. It was stuffy and restless. Something ominous was coming toward her.
Nightfall came. Her anxiety reached its limits. Everything was falling out of hands. She couldn't eat, couldn't drink even a sip of water. Her throat was tight, hands and feet were icy but her head was as if on fire. A strange force was pressing her on shoulders, pushing her to the door as if trying to say: "Go away." Something was trying to force Eurydice to leave the house. Something prompted it was dangerous to stay inside. Her heart was fluttering as in a fever. "Go now, go away" - as if somebody was screaming into her ears. "Go quickly, now, or you will be late!!! Go away!!!
But it was late.
Lights have flashed outside the window – torches, people. They were coming here. They walked quickly, openly, they didn`t hide, but they walked in silence. She rushed to the door, slid the huge, heavy bolt, and hastily blocked the window looking out to the courtyard with a solid wooden panel. Breaking her nails and peeling the skin from her fingers she pushed the heavy, planed wooden plank that was holding this "shield" into the slots. There was no such protection for the second window but it looked out to the backyard, right into the dense and unkempt thicket where grew roses, oleanders and pomegranates mixed in between. Beyond it was laying a wide meadow and then the forest began. Beyond it was laying a wide meadow and then the forest began. That`s why Orpheus had made only one shield - so rarely people came from that  side, and the house was not visible from there, if not for the smoke of the hearth. The hunters and fishermen had other trails; a broad road that connected single settlements was running through the flat valley below, in a side; the path that branched off from it wound up and down the hill for a long time, but finally ended right at the front of their house.
They were already in the yard. Eurydice shrank into a ball huddled in the farthest, the darkest corner. She had no weapon, but even if she had - what could she do alone against the crowd? She knew why they had come. But she had a slight hope they would limit themselves to threats and shouts and then leave her because if she will sit quietly, they may think that there was no one here. Thank Gods, she hadn't built a fire and didn`t left the house. She could get right into their hands. But on other side, her house now was more a trap than refuge. If she hadn't waited till the dark they would have missed each other or she would have seen them from afar and find a shelter. Yes, but she might have thought someone had been lost and the villagers went in a search. She would have gone out to them and - no, it was better not to think about it. She was afraid even to move a little. Of what she was thinking not so long ago - let it all ends, death is also a way out of the situation? Was this what the Almighty Gods had heard? Is it really - the end? Frightened to death, Eurydice completely forgot about the second window that led to the garden.
She could hear their screams. They were drunk. Men, and several women with them. They wanted her to come out. Just to talk, the gruff voice was assuring her, only a few questions. But she was silent.
- Maybe she's not home. Maybe gone somewhere.
- Where? To the mountains, to the woods?
- A witch she is, that's right place for her, in the thicket!"
- Nonsense!
- A sorceress, I told you!  She got rid of Orpheus and soon will do the same with all us, mark my words!
- Did you see how skinny she is now? She's been drinking his blood night by night and now she's starving since he left. She'll be after us soon!
- Let`s kill her before she finish with us!

The silence followed. Eurydice broke into a cold sweat. That was what they came for. They were infuriating themselves. Cowards they were and wanted to overcome their fears by shouting. They had invented the witch Eurydice for their own and now were shaking in a horror and angry with themselves for it. When the wine will finally defeat their minds, they will break down the door. But as long as the smallest chance was left that they would return to the village believing that she had gone, she has to stay as quiet as a mouse. There was a secret passageway in the basement that led to the thickets in the backyard but it would be hard to open it quietly in the dark. Besides, if they had already surrounded the house - they would notice her, she wouldn`t be able to make her way quickly and silently through the thorny rose bushes. And there would be no place for her to hide.
Fists pounded on the door. But so far they were just knocking, not breaking it. They hadn`t ripened yet. While two or three men were besieging the door, under the window that was covered with the shield, women's voices were shouting, their harsh croaks were retelling Eurydice her own story.
- Where did he find her?
- Who knows? In past days he had another wife - smart, beautiful, with the kind soul.
-Yes, yes, and after she had disappeared he went looking for her. Our men guarded his house from thieves and robbers. We hoped they will come back together but he returned with this black witch!
-  But they are so alike…
 - She took the shape of Eurydice but failed to take the character.
- Right you are, sister! When she lived here - beautiful were the songs of Orpheus and now we have neither songs, nor him.
-  It's her evil magic! He left because couldn't handle it.
There came a crash outside the window, one more than. She heard the sound of splinters breaking off, but the shield that covered the window still remained intact.
Now they were banging on the door with a log. They must have picked up one of that lied near the porch. She cursed her thrift. The bolt wasn`t budging either and they were getting wild. And finally they found an excuse for what they were going to do.
- We must kill her and then he will come back!
- Exactly! The witch will die and the spell will be broken!
- That is good deed, brothers! Let the blood atone for her evil deeds!

The call reached the goal. Another blow — and the door crashed inward. The house was dark, the yard was dark, those who held the torches remained outside and so those who entered did not notice the open window. Eurydice herself only now remembered about it and darted there but was intercepted. They roared in triumph, shaking their fists. From the yard they were yelled back, their fellows were trying to understand what had happened. Those who were in the house answered: “We caught the witch, we are keeping her!” "Hold her tight!", -  were they advised in return. "She's a witch; she can change into a beast or a bird and disappear.  Hold her tight, you, fools!" The "fools" roared angrily, waving their hands in protest and started to mock those left in the courtyard. The grip on her shoulders suddenly loosened - just for some moment, but that was enough for Eurydice. She twisted and jumped out of the window into the garden. Dense shrubbery closed over her head. Branches tore her clothes, thorns of the roses left bloody cuts on her body, but her rage and her lust for life gave her such a strength that she went through the thicket as a knife goes through the butter. Her executioners failed to understand at once what had happened. And they were so slow-witted that at first they all tried to follow her through the window but failed with it too, and having come to their senses rushed into the courtyard. The doorway was narrow and all of them wanted to get out first to lead the chase. They were pushing each other away, exchanging punches and curses. And when they finally managed to squeeze through the door and fall out on the porch, there came its finest hour. That rotten plank, which Eurydice had vainly asked to replace, cracked under their weight and broke. Several legs were caught in the hole. They had avoided fractures, but sharp splinters left a lot of bloody scratches. Poor captors were dragged out and now all rushed behind the house. They had no time to lose — while they were cursing and freeing their limbs, the witch could go far away.

This delay gave the fugitive a chance. Unfortunately, there was an open space between the house and the edge of the forest and although it was dark already, Eurydice was dressed in white and had been noticed. Their screams and laughter were driving like hot rods into her temples. Torches they carried partly had extinguished and partly were lost as they ran after her, pushing each other and shouting the foul insults. She was lucky they had no dogs with them. Cool night air and the swift race had quickly sobered up her pursuers but she knew this area better than they did, and she was alone, so it was easier for her to run between closely growing trunks, twisting and ducking under the heavy spruce paws. Sometimes she went out of sight and it also confused and delayed her hunters. For a short Eurydice managed to break away from the chase, but she was too tired and they began to overtake her.
Now her captors had sobered up completely and spread out in a chain taking her in the wide circle, pressing her away from the mountainside and from the thicket where she could hide. They forced her to run to a well-known bend of the stream where fishing spots were and fishermen came often, where the stream spread wide and was dangerous to wade. Eurydice was a poor swimmer and villagers knew that. If they could have caught her there, they wouldn't even need to get their hands bloody, just drowned her like a kitten - that`s all. She tried to turn somewhere for several times, but they didn't let her. Besides, the dense undergrowth took her last strength, and the path that led to that bend was so easy to run. «I`ll cross it…. I can do it, I will do it. If I`ll run faster, I`ll have time to swim across”.
She ran as fast as she could, but as she ran to the Bank of the stream, she knew that she would not make it. She leaped to the side in a mad hope to hide in the reeds, jumped out to a small clearing, caught a glimpse of fire embers not far from dark water and fell to the ground, tripping over a log. The log swore horribly and caught her by the leg. Dice yelled in a horror at the entire forest and it seemed to explode in response with a crackling of branches and shouts «She’s here!!! Here she is!!!! She's there!!! Grab her!! »

A strong hand grabbed her by the neck and hurled into the dense reeds standing as a wall along the riverbank. "Sit tight," - barked the unknown. - "and hide!” In the next moment heavy woolen cloak had flown straight into her face - it was of the same color as the darkness so even if it had been lying in hand's breadth away she wouldn't have noticed it. Eurydice quickly enveloped herself in the thick fabric wrapping it around her hands, around head and feet, having left only a small slit in front of her eyes, not so much to look, but to breathe.

The return to the village, from the triumphal procession they had imagined turned into a funeral march, but it has cooled greatly the hot heads and set them on a reasonable mood. They failed to seize Eurydice but they were sure that if she will survive, she would not escape them. We shall find people to live in her house - were they talking - and warn men in the far villages who will let us know, when she appears. If she will get lost in the forest, animals will eat her up, if will remain in hands of this mercenary — who else can wander in the wilderness alone and armed fully — this will be right what she deserves. He'd have a fun with her and leave, or would take her either. So in all cases the end got the successful enough and now they finally could calm themselves, bury the fallen, cure all the cuts and wounds and go about their daily business.


ABOUT THE FAITH AND TRUST

Full moon was shining above. Voices faded slowly in the distance; murmur of the water and rustlings in the reeds were growing louder. The beech trees above Eurydice's head rumored as if whispered secretly and night birds were whistling to one another as the guards at the roll call. The stranger didn't move - he was just sitting with the weapon on his knees. He probably didn't want to frighten her with a sharp movement or a word but Dice was so much exhausted that she had no strength to be afraid. All she wanted was to sit as long as possible unmoved, because then she certainly would be safe and no one will see her while she is wrapped in a thick cloth of the cloak. She started in a sudden. The cloak was not her own, it belonged to him and now he probably would come and take it away. But he gave it to me, himself. Sure, but not forever. He just wanted to help, to hide her from her pursuers so that they would not find her. It`s necessary to give this cloak back. But then she would be completely defenseless. And she will be cold. And they will find her and kill her. She sobbed softly. Whether the stranger heard that sound or was simply tired of waiting for any sign of life from her but he spoke with the voice low and commanding. It wasn't angry, that voice, but surely it was much more used to giving the orders at the battlefield than for making any small talks.
-  Are you all right? Are you hurt?
Eurydice sobbed again. Not from the fear now, but from the gratitude. Stranger turned his head slightly towards her.
-  I'll start some fire. You need to warm up and to eat something. Will you help me or you want to sit a little more and wait till everything will be ready?
Eurydice felt ashamed. He helped her, he saved her. Her duty at least is to come now to the fire and hand back the cloak. Even if later he turns to be a rapist and a murderer — all the same, now she must approach, hand the cloak back and thank him. He saved her life - that's the main thing. Eurydice scrambled out of the reeds. The cloak was too long for her, her feet were tangling in the folds so she picked it up and got closer to the fire. It was burning with a soft, unhurried flame, like a flower which has spread its petals around as a halo and pressed them tightly to the ground for not to be seen by the curious, alien eyes. Stranger was rummaging in his bag; he took out the loaf of bread and thinly sliced chunks of the dried meat.
-  Be seated. It will be safer for both of us.
Eurydice handed him the cloak.
-  Let me thank you, wanderer.
-  Keep it for a while. You're cold and tired and your dress is too conspicuous.
Eurydice wrapped again in thick and warm fabric and sat down by the fire.
- I`m lucky you slept in this lawn. I wanted to swim across, but at the last moment my feet turned here by own decision.
- You're lucky you didn't throw yourself into the water. We are lucky both.
Strange notes slipped in his voice as if something old and painful had come to his mind, something of what people usually prefer not to remember without urgency.
- Why do you say that?
Strange it was, she didn't want to ask, but she did it. Eurydice felt it was necessary, perhaps of these strange notes.
 - You can swim at night only if you swim like a fish or if you're a soldier in the line then you will always have nearby someone`s hand. And it is absolutely definitely cannot be done in a dress. Are you a good swimmer?
- Horrible, should I say.
- Then you'd be dead. Either the dress would have dragged you to the bottom, or they would have got you.
- Maybe, if I were alone.
- But you are alone. Or there was someone with you who left you for the certain death?
- I meant you.
The stranger laughed. Eurydice was stared intently at his face bordered by the curly beard. In the firelight it was hard to see the expression in his eyes but there was nothing offensive in his laugh, it sounded as if the warrior was laughing at himself. And it was a bitter laughter. Eurydice's heart sank. "This had already was with him», - she thought.
- You would have left me to my destiny?
- If I had rushed to save you we might have perished together.
At last words the warrior's voice faltered and broke.
She asked the question as if jumped into a whirlpool:
- That had already happened once?
Questions came out like sparks from the fire. Eurydice didn't want to ask, she feared, but still was asking as if being forced by some power that was outside her control,  alien and not depending on her aspirations.
The stranger gritted his teeth and buried the forehead in the clenched fists.
- Yes.
- You failed to save someone?"
He raised his head, then put hands on his knees and began to speak – slowly, looking straight into the fire.
-  Long ago it was, very long ago. I was very young then. We had to cross the river -we were sure that we`ll succeed, it was shallow but fast and so we hoped that our pursuers will fail. They were armored, well armed and had no bows, they scarcely would have risk to go into the water since the current would have simply been dragged to the bottom. And what was the most important they were not too many, no more than a dozen. But she didn't swim well. And she wore a dress, like you. She began to sink, she was almost drowned when I caught her, but I could not swim across with her almost breathless body on my arms.  We need to reach the ford, there was a couple of large flat boulders remained from huge old rock that once had collapsed and blocked the river. Over time the water made its way through but in one place, where the riverbed turned, the current had applied a lot of sand and silt to the rock stones and formed the ford. There I could lay her on the rocks and try to fight off, giving her the time to recover. Our captors guessed my plan, and hardly had I managed to cast her onto one of the stones - they were already near and the fight broke out. I would have probably won, but while I struggled, protecting her, she threw herself back into the water. Was it one more attempt to swim across the river? In her despair she did not know what she was doing being almost choked, half blinded with terror and tears, exhausted from fatigue.... Whether she knew that she wouldn't be able to swim further? Or was she hoping that I would follow her and thus will save myself? Was it sudden madness or a sacrifice? I don't know. Her death cry paralyzed them for some moments - they had the strictest order to bring her safe and sound, it was only me with whom they were told not to stand on ceremonies. In short, I managed to get away. I reached the edge of the ford where it dropped into the deep, and swooped. They failed to catch me. I survived but she has died. I think she knew she wouldn't come out. That her scream! It was like the last strike of the warrior in a battle, she knew that she was going to drown and she screamed precisely to get their attention, to give me the chance. I was ready to sacrifice for her and in result she did it for me. All these years I've lived with the thought that I'm in her debt.
- Did you love her much?"
He answered abruptly:
-  I loved her.
-  Forgive me! Please, forgive me!
-  For what?
- I forced you remember that.
- It's not you. These are the Gods and Fate. My guilt had been tormenting me for all these years. Tonight I received the chance to close the score.
- The Gods have brought you to my path…
- ....have placed across it, speaking more precisely....
Eurydice suddenly burst out laughing and the warrior, after some hesitations, did the same. It came out too loud and booming, Eurydice gave a startled gasp and put the hand on her mouth. The unknown snorted.
- If they were around, they would have come out to the fire for a talk, or would have tried to attack again. So forget it. Until morning we can be threatened only by wild animals. Of course, if we`ll succeed in interesting them.

They were chewed meat and bread, drinking water from the stream. They talked unhurriedly as if nothing had happened. It often takes place with those who have just experienced a disaster or a shock - they behave as if there nothing was, and better is to treat them in the same way. It`s necessary to give the soul and body some time to calm down. But the unspoken gratitude was torturous for Eurydice so she decides to return to the subject.
- You saved my life, stranger.
- Yes, for this hour. But the night will be over soon and I`ll take my way. What about your own story?
- It can be for long, and for the morning is not so much time left. What`s use for you in this?
- I need to decide shall I take you with me or will leave you here. I want to know why these people had treated you so cruelly. And it`s foolish to save somebody`s life and then go away and leave him only to make the second attempt of his enemies more successful than the first.
Eurydice launched into a story, beginning with the words «My husband went on business...." She was carefully avoiding names and did not plunge into details. When she had finished, the stranger made a grimace and began thoughtfully stirring coals in the fire:
- You'd better get out of here.
-  I must leave? But where shall I go?
- You may come with me. We shall buy you clothing and shoes in the nearest town but we won't stay there for long. If your former neighbors will drop in there on business or on visit — you may be discovered. Better to move away. But at least you will not be alone and not barefoot.
- And later?
- And later I'll set you up with someone I know and they'll find you a job and a place to live for the start time.
- And where will it be?
He smiled cunningly.
- I have friends almost everywhere. We shall find someplace you like which will be as far away from here as it possible.
-  I have to think all out.
- Then the first watch will be yours. I'll take a sleep. Wake me up immediately, if you notice anything suspicious.

He lay down on the ground by the fire and almost instantly fell asleep. Eurydice was watching him attentively but his eyes were closed and his chest was heaving gradually. She didn't want to accept his offer. She wanted to go home, to tend the garden and wait for Orpheus. She needed to come back. If a rumor that she has gone would reach him - he will never be back. And if he will be back and won`t find her - dubiously that he would start to seek her. He will decide she's found another husband and another home. No, she just needs some shelter to hide until all comes quiet. She has to wait until the villagers will calm themselves down. That horrible invasion most likely was just a temporary confusion of their minds caused by the surplus of wine they had consumed.  And besides, if you really want to leave - you can't leave empty-handed, and certainly not in these rags. So she even more was needed to get to the house, into the basement, where in the masonry, behind the stones, golden jewelry and her money were hidden. Orpheus had never been interested in the household matters, he had no idea about this trove and Eurydice had never told him about it. Each has his own. He had friends and songs, and drinks - lately, and she had flowers of incredible beauty that were paid for handsomely. The plants from her garden easily took roots in the distant lands and bloomed, and bore fruits even in the hands of the most lazy and forgetful owners, and if to speak of Eurydice's advices – they were almost priceless, especially if she liked someone. These lucky ones she taught to speak with flowers. People were ready to pay for it in gold but she always refused. She was saying it`s just a game, mischief only, and always laughed at it. But no matter what it was really - the flowers over that she spelled her words grew as if  she really put a spell on them and later the whole garden was becoming the same. It was always cool in the heat and warm in the cold, it was easy to breathe and dream, it was pleasant to think and sleep. General opinion was unanimous: “The secret word she knows”, though she herself insisted that it was only illusion coming from the great love and lively imagination, so to speak. Eurydice suddenly realized that villagers really had reasons to fear and hate her. She didn't took it in a mind before, she thought it was because of her problems with her husband, but now it had turned into quite different story. It came the day when what was taken always as a flattery and made her laugh almost killed her. Yes, right now, at this moment she was safe but the threat of death still was hanging like a black cloud over her head. To have money for a trip and for settling in a new place was certainly essential but not the most important condition. Travels were dangerous; people went alone only for a very short distance; for a common journey from one village to another it was necessary to unite with neighbors in a company, and to go to a fair in the nearest town you need not only to arrange the caravan but also to hire the guard for it. Skilled fighters were always welcome, and their service was paid well. But your guards also had to be chosen carefully or you risked losing your cargo or even your own head - and all this by the grace of your own bodyguards. There were many subtleties in this process but all of them were exclusively the subject of male care. As well as the trips, which were mostly for men. Women rarely went outside the settlement and almost never walked alone. The only exception was the children - the robbers got nothing from these meetings and usually ignored them-but the children did not run too far from the village. So many dangers in these times were around that having lost your place in the community you were losing almost everything. For women such a loss was equal to the death. So, if it was really urgent to go somewhere, it was necessary first to find someone whom you really could trust. Traveling towards the uncertain with someone who was totally unknown to her, someone she had never met could be called completely insane. And though he did not even touch her nor did he let her know - by word or a glance - that she had awakened in him any other feelings except compassion and concern, she still was afraid of him. She was afraid of his possible advances and wanted to stay alone, the sooner - the better. That’s why she was so reserved in her narration — she was by instinct keeping her distance, the indifference and compactness of her story was a sort of protection, as a barrier. She was not afraid of the direct and outright abuse — if he was driven by lust he would have already got her, she would not be able to defend herself. She was afraid of the other – may be his care and attention were dictated not only by the kindness, he maybe doesn't not want to take her by force but wants her to get used, or even fell in love with him. Why not? The gratitude for saving one`s life is a worthy beginning for love. But to Eurydice this thought was even worse than the death itself; in the offer she was made she saw the confirmation of her fears and she firmly decided not to tell him that she had nowhere to go. He had not asked her name. Whether he had intended to win her over in this way or not, and whether or not it was a trust manifestation and an offer to trust in return — in any case, she had the full opportunity of coming up with the names for herself and for a bunch of relatives in around, who could welcomed her with open arms.

The sky slowly began to turn gray. It would soon be light and she is still awake. She wants to sleep too. Eurydice got up from her seat wanted to move closer to the unknown. She wanted to wake him up but he forestalled her.
-  It's almost the dawn. Why didn't you wake me up?
-  Don't know… had lost in thoughts for a while.
-  All was quiet?
-  All was quiet.
-  Sleep then.
Eurydice hesitated. The stranger chuckled.
- Don`t be afraid. I never rape the sleeping girls, especially in such cases, right after I had saved their lives. There is some unnecessary haste in this, untidiness, should I say. Take a sleep.
If he had started to convince her fervently in his decency and exclaimed "O, how could you think so…" - she wouldn`t have believed for even a second. But  such a frank mockery was in his words, such a clear condescension for her, who measured everyone by the same stupid and cheap yardstick, that she simply put her head on the rolled-up edge of his cloak, wrapped herself in the other as in a blanket and immediately fell asleep.

She was awakened by the bright hot sun and deafening birds singing. Eurydice opened her eyes. The stranger sat by the dead fire thoroughly whittling a stick, the hunk of bread and two thick cheese slices were laying beside him on the backing made from fresh beech leaves.
- I left you some for breakfast that you had slept through. Come here, eat, wash up and let's go if you have no other proposals.
Both of them were carefully behaved like people who have known each other for so long that they even don't need to talk, they behaved like a couple who have lived not one, but a thousand lives together. For  Eurydice it was quite comfortable because then it was easier to tell things that were untrue, or rather not to tell the truth and the stranger, well, he saw  she was lying but taking in account that she might have her own reasons, he, in his turn, also was not too eager to be sincere. An eye for an eye, baby, if you want to keep quiet, no problem, but then I also reserve the right to behave as I please.
Eurydice went down to the stream - washed her face and combed the braids with her fingers. She straightened her clothes as it was possible and wrapped in the cloak again. It was hot in it, the sun was already high, but the holes in her dress were so large that the difference between "fully clothed" and "totally naked" was not so great. She returned to the clearing. Stranger, who was carefully polishing the blade of his short sword with a rag, looked up:
-  I'm in a hurry. I have to go. Are you coming?
She shook her head.
- Thanks, my friend. I'll stay. All I need is a couple of days until everything will calm down. I’d better go to my aunt; she lives little further, up the mountain. It is a small village and few are coming there.

It was risky. There up the mountain spur were indeed some settlements and if the stranger knew these places and had been here, he might begin to question her. But thanks to the Gods grace - he seemed to visit this region for the first time because he made no queries but only offered her a company. Eurydice agreed — it would be foolish to refuse. All day they walked up the stream toward the mountain. Everything was quiet and it was hard to believe that only yesterday she had been rushing through this forest like a doe, frightened and pursued by hunters who hungered for her blood. Only yesterday the death was breathing down her back. If she had fallen she would have been kicked down, trampled into the damp moss and not even blood would have been left on the green carpet. The witch could not count on a dignified death, only on the inhuman cruelty — as a just retribution for the evil she had done. Eurydice was going to a hidden cave, of its existence perhaps she alone knew. Never, in all the years of her walks in the surrounding she met someone near this secret refuge and never she had found any traces of someone else presence inside. She planned to stay there for a few days. There were fire woods and flints, and last time when she'd been there, she'd left some supplies and a couple of blankets. They could now be remade into a cloak. The supplies are probably ruined but she can pick berries, catch fish. But all this could be solved later, now she needed to get rid of her companion. They hardly spoke - it was not easy to walk through the dense undergrowth and windbreaks; you had to look carefully under your feet and on the both sides so that a sharp, well-dried branch would not get into your eye. It was getting dark; soon it becomes totally impossible to go. The stranger turned into a clearing, stamped his feet to drive away the inhabitants of moss hummocks and called a halt. They built a fire and ate. Stranger shot a bird, plucked it and fried on a thick branch. Table serving fell on her shoulders - she divided the roast game and the bread into pieces. The last piece of cheese she cut into almost transparent slices. Stranger gave her a knife, very sharp, made of the well-tempered steel. It was not large and fit comfortably in the hand. She stuck it in the ground beside her. Whether her companion saw it or not left unknown but he didn't remind her to return the knife. Eurydice offered to be the first on duty. When she got sure that he is asleep, she got up quietly, pulled the knife out of the ground and walking lighter than poplar fluff, disappeared among the trees.

When she was gone, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Well, that's it. Now he could go where he was going before this strange meeting with a girl who looked like a frightened fawn. She stole a knife from him. He noticed her maneuver but said nothing. Little loss. He can buy another one in the nearest village and she needs a weapon. When she hide the knife near her, he realized that she has no wish to go with him and would try to escape while he sleeps. He had no intention to fall asleep - who knows what she has in her mind, especially now, when she has a knife in her hand, so he lay quietly and waited till she had disappeared in the forest.  Stupid girl, will be lost for nothing. But it`s pointless to save someone who doesn't want to be saved.  All the more, she really was lying, now it was quite obvious, and what was quite possible - she had lied to him in the main point: maybe she really hurts people and the villagers turned against her not by an accident. He grinned. You made your choice, baby. Whoever you are, I will not run to find you trying to help you by force. To be honest I don't like violence. Nowhere. But if you can’t avoid it in the battle, in peaceful life it`s surely out of need. And especially useless it is in human relations. So as you decided - so will be it. After all the death is an ordinary event and everything is in the hands of the Gods. If you died right now it means that right this time had been measured for you by the Almighty Fates and the Great Zeus-Thunderer.  Yes, dad, I see. I remember that I must go. Sorry. I leave.

The unknown got up from the ground, stretched himself, kicked around almost completely extinguished firewood, trampled the sparks not to cause a fire and strode down the slope. The huge club from a wild olive-tree he carried in his hand. Eurydice didn`t take his cloak but oddly enough, he didn't want to take it either, as if now it didn`t belong to him. So he left it lying where it was; from the bulky bag he got a heavy lion's skin and threw it over his shoulders. No more adventures he needs, hastened tasks are waiting for him: his own ones but first of all - the great work of his father, Zeus. So good luck to you, little girl, shall we meet or not - none of us can say.



VERY LONG BILLS

Morning came and found the villagers in a state of the full disarray. They clearly remembered what was yesterday but it would have been better not to remember it at all. In fact, it would be better if this yesterday never existed. To say that they thought of being fools who had done something unnecessary or shameful — of course not, but they should have been better prepared. They had to kill the witch and instead of this they not only had lost her, but also lost two their fellows killed. Women of those families, the kinsfolk of dead, were screaming incessantly mixing their cries with the curses addressed both to Eurydice and to those who returned alive. It was not a great pleasure to listen to them but they certainly could have been understood in a human way, and we would even did it, if only all these widows and orphans were not howling so loudly. What the hell is that, really, there are people around too, and what is our fault that we came back in one piece? And by the way, we are not so unscathed - arms and legs are torn by branches, faces are whipped by the twigs. Acastus broke his leg and is limping now. He was the last to walk, nearly lost, but happily our Menander-strongman happened close and he practically carried him on all the way back. When that unknown threw at them the body of Nycteus whom he killed, Hylas, the poor thing, fell backwards and his head bumped into one of the moss hummocks that are near the stream in a lot. And there, under the moss - the boulder! Barely got up, he is saying, now if I close my eyes my head is spinning. To fall asleep is scary, he says, and to stay without a sleep is impossible. Those two who were caught in a hole in the porch - Hrys with Penteus – had got abrasions so deep that still are bleeding. Great luck it is that they had not broke their legs but they were pretty close to it. Rotten stuff was that boards! Damned witch must have set it all up on purpose! Well, never mind, no other way she has but to come back to her house and that would be the end of her. We'll be watching - we won't miss her for the second time. And if she won`t returns that means she has managed to perish on her own, without our help.

House of the singer they had already guarded before so it was not for the first time. They did it not only out of friendship and neighborly considerations, but also out of the concern for their own pockets. And saying in general, nothing has been changed. Orpheus is not at home — but outsiders do not need to know this. In previous times it also happened when they brought here the curious people while the owners were away, but the house then had a residential and well-maintained appearance and it was undoubted that people are living there. Before Orpheus had gone away for the first time they often came here, and their wives and daughters often pay visits to Eurydice. As for children - they were running here around all the time. Later, when he has gone in search for his wife, they had cleaned the house, tended the garden as best as they could, and sometimes when they were really asked to, they showed it to the curious. They did not see anything wrong in it because the owners were absent, and besides, they did not admit the strangers into the house and to the garden. Who first came to the mind of taking money for that displaying — they had already forgotten. Travelers would have said that they were asked to pay and villagers would have said that they were asked to take the payment; practically they were forced to take it, just as a sign of gratitude, not more. But, no matter how it had happened it had started and after a while has become as usual source of an income as were the trading on a market day or any other craft as blacksmithing, weaving or the pottery. Certainly, they did not confess in this to Orpheus when he returned, and did not stop this business, but the house and the garden now they were showing only from a distance for not be noticed. And, as before, they saw nothing wrong in it. They meant nothing insulting: they weren't trespassing, did not make noise, did not interfere, told no fables and tales about him, only were praising excitedly and inflating with a pride for this neighborhood. The only difference now was that someone had to be put up here in case if Eurydice will return. There was no need to leave guards in the house — it might frighten her and she would not come near to the house. It was better to settle a woman in, but in this case there were so many “buts” that it took them two days to agree and confirm all details. There were a lot of candidates, they almost got into a fight at the meeting, but then they cooled down and almost unanimously chose little Auga, "shining", named after the Princess from Arcadia, who gave birth to a son to the famous Heracles. This son was said to be like his father as the two drops of water. Nothing at all he has from his mother, they were saying. One face with his father and if he could have the beard, wild olive club and the lion skin as his father wore - the likeness would be perfect.
 She was almost thirteen, this namesake of the Arcadian princess, and she really looked like a little fire, surprisingly frisky one. Sometimes it seemed that her head with flaming, bright red hair was in the several places at once. She was smart and sensible beyond her years and didn`t afraid of any work. To top it all off she had an incredible memory together with an equally incredible curiosity. For this curiosity her father, a well-to-do merchant who owned the richest inn and the most excellent wine cellar in the whole area, often was kicking her ears. The wine cellar always was a place of refuge for Auga during her sorties and sitting there, she enjoyed listening to all along — village gossips, obscene anecdotes, grandfathers ' tales, hymns and songs about the Gods and heroes and the latest news from the battlefields. Despite the vivacity and talkativeness, so common to the girls, Auga was undoubtedly reliable in serious matters - if her father ordered her: “not a word on this to anyone”, it really was "not a word to anyone." And to say the truth, all these thrashing was not too cruel and more of a ritual nature, as a warning and reminding that "in general, eavesdropping is a very bad thing".  There could be nothing other since he often enough was profited greatly from the curiosity of this youngster. Auga used to listen to the business talks that were going on between the merchants who came here to celebrate a successful deal or to discuss someone's failure. These conversations were not easy to remember, but it was for them that her father forgave her everything else.

So Auga was moved into the house of Orpheus. She was assigned to the household, all necessary supplies would be brought in a day and the porch would be repaired. The fire in the house was told not to build yet but to wait for a month or two until it became really cold and during that time everything would fallen into a place. It was agreed that they will come to see her every night and they will not approach the house, but wait her in a hidden place and they will bring her hot food or make a fire to cook some. If she will have idea to heat the water for some purpose she must do it also away from the house so that she could not be visible from afar. Also was agreed that as soon as Auga will see Eurydice, she immediately has to run to the village, but first she must make sure that the witch did not notice her. Otherwise, it was necessary first to assure Eurydice in the good intentions of her neighbors. Here, you see, we came to our senses and are taking care of your house, visiting, looking after, you see, even the porch we had repaired — and only then, when she finally believes it, Auga might run for help. And it's even better - as more reliable. However, they decided not load the girl with very detailed instructions — everyone knew that she is smart beyond her years, and besides no one can foresee all what may happen. The porch was decided to be repaired more in the care of Auga then because of any other reasons. She is too fast and young and risks forgetting about the hole or being just in a hurry can break a leg or arm. Some were afraid that all it might only alerts the witch and then she would immediately leave, but they were told that on the contrary, it would be regarded by her as good will on the part of the villagers. Their confidence in Eurydice`s return had a strong basis because surviving alone was a difficult task even for a strong man, and for a woman it wasn`t possible at all. Their confidence in her seeking for a  peace with people who had almost killed her was not so certain, but the pure logic was prompting that if she was  back, that means she wants to continue her life here, in this house, otherwise what for to  return? It`s also understandable — she has nowhere else to go. And if she wants to live here, it means that she is ready to seek the ways of reconciliation or hopes that the conflict can be resolved. In fact, there wasn't too much logic in all this, except that if she will come back, they would have either to kill her or to let her settle here again. Deep in their hearts, all they hoped that Eurydice would not appear again — now, on a sober head, no one wanted to get the hands dirty in blood. They hoped that either she would be eaten by animals, or that mercenary would take her as the loot or - as one more chance - this damned creature would go to the neighboring villages and someone would finish her off on the way. The main thing was that all this named above should happen without them, so disgusting it was in their hearts now, after what they had done. To watch the house from a distance - was not new to them, and as for the girl, well, why not to let her live there, profitable business mustn`t be lost. When she`ll grow up, she will get this house with a garden for her work and bravery and with such a dowry, you can enter even a noble family. That is why with such ferocity, almost to the point of blood, they were arguing who should sit in the house, waiting for the witch.

Three days in the cave had exhausted Eurydice near to death. Her cozy, lived-in place where it was so funny to hide when she had where to return now really became The-Abode-Of-Dreads-And-Tears. That was exactly as she saw these words when she was pronouncing them in her mind — written in huge letters and every word had to begin from the capital one. . It was not cheap pathos - Eurydice had never been known for it; it was a fever of suspense and a piercing - up to the ringing in the ears and palpitations- feeling of homelessness and rejection. She tried to protect herself with housekeeping: she made brooms out of the spruce paws and thoroughly, from day to day, swept the floor of the cave, cleaned the cobweb from the walls and even from the stones which she used as a bed and table well as from those she didn't use in any way, but only passed by. Several times a day she went to the stream for water. It was useless to go so often because in the cave there was no place to store it, but she kept walking there and picked berries and some herbs as she went. In the evenings she built the fire steadily keeping an eye on to prevent it smoking and cooked her food in an old pot that was hidden in one of the corners of her shelter. She had found the blankets, made of thin, dark-colored sheep's wool that were folded double and sewn into one to keep the warmth.  She ripped one of them and cut out two long and wide pieces with her knife and made little holes alongside the edges. Narrow ribbons that left over after clipping were cut into the thin strips and after having threaded these strips through the holes and tied them in pairs she managed to get quite an elegant dress. Dark fabric would completely hide her figure in the twilights. Of course, such clothing was too hot for this time of year, but the strips provided some ventilation and in any case she wasn't planning to wear it for everyday. It was not more than a temporary decision - just for getting home safely especially taking in account her decision to go at night – and the nights were getting cool, the autumn in the mountains usually comes earlier than on the plains. It was not an easy task — moonlight could be as bright as possible but it will be of a small use in the forest. She was not afraid of wild animals, usually they avoid humans and besides now she had a knife, large warrior's knife, with a long blade, wide at the hilt and with the sharp, awl-like, tip. Dice was an excellent knife user — life in the outback obliges and also Orpheus had taught her some cunning tricks. A singer he was, sure, but for the trip with Argonauts, the crew had been recruiting from the people who knew military crafts perfectly - it was the first and the most necessary condition.

At last her longing for home and for husband overcame all the fears and hesitations and in the early evening soon as the first stars came out and the slight haze has obscured the outlines of the trees Eurydice set out on her journey. Nothing special had marked this hour. Just one moment she sat fingering the nuts, trying to decide how much can she eat tonight and how much better to leave for the morning, and at the next one she was already on her way out  of the cave having picked up the small bundle of supplies laid on the rocks on the right of the central passage. No thoughts like these: "Now I`ll arise and go…", or "I`ll put the nuts, shake off my hands and go! What`s use of sitting here?", – none of them had paid her visits. Only one, like a snake had glided somewhere on the edge of consciousness: "...better in the morning..." But it had flushed and sped away and in a few moments Eurydice was on her feet brushing her fingers from the nutshells. A minute later she was walking to the exit with a steady, unhesitating step as if some unknown force had pulled her up and sent her on her way. On her two days' journey she met no one — birds and small animals, of course, were not in count. As Eurydice walked in the faint light of the moon through the shrubberies and glades, as she made her way among the close-growing trees, the memories of happy days were reigning in her mind so totally that it was really a wonder how she did not break her neck on the way. The paths sloped down, they were crooked, overgrown and barely noticeable in the daylight, it was so easy to stumble but it seemed as if someone was protecting her supporting her by the elbow. During all the day Dice was hiding in the thickets alongside the stream banks, she was awfully drowsy but she held on. Only once she did doze off but managed to pull herself out of the sleepy wrap early before her mind get a chance to get there and settle down comfortably.
She was talking to herself, very quietly, almost silently; it helped not to fall asleep. She talked to her husband, recalling all their cherished moments, tender nicknames, funny words and slips - all that sweet nonsense that constitutes the true happiness of lovers. She whispered to herself about her love for him, she told herself about Orpheus and Eurydice, how they had lived once and been happy until a terrible accident came. Again and again was repeating Eurydice to herself that story Orpheus had told her — of his journey to the Underworld and how he sung before Hades and Persephone and about Kerberos, who exposed to be the great music lover. She was wondering how all it had been looking from the outside: that three heads of the terrible Hell Dog sticking out of the different windows, nodding admiringly but not in tact — for some reason it seemed to her that he necessarily must have been nodding at the wrong time, something touching and unprotected was in this; after all, there was once that time when he was just a small puppy being caressed by his mother. And Eurydice was almost seeing those heads - huge, covered with the coarse hair, and that monstrous fangs bore in a broadest smile and the bloodshot eyes squinted in the blissfulness. And for some reason Eurydice was terribly interested how Persephone looks like. She was chanting in a low voice: "Per-se-fo-na» and listened to the sound — she liked it, terribly liked the very sound of that name, name of the Goddess of the Underworld. It seemed to her that the Hades` wife must necessarily be blonde with the delicate features, fragile and sad a little, also reasonable and very kind. And she must have a lot of secrets from her husband because she doesn't love him, they say that he kidnapped her and didn't want to bring her back. Maybe she had loved someone else then and so didn't want to be with Hades but later she accepted her fate, or maybe, she loves someone else now and that's why she lives for two houses - on the ground and under the ground. And then Demeter the Goddess, her mother, forced the great Zeus to interfere and he ordered that Persephone will spend only three months of the year in the Hades and all the time left - on the surface. Perhaps that's why Hades is so harsh — he is just missing his wife and is terribly angry when she is absent. That's why he freed Eurydice — he knows what the longing for beloved is. Eurydice suddenly thought that if she would meet Hades, they would have enough to talk about.
 
Thoughts skipped to the recent events. Dear Gods, what had she done to these fools, what harm had she done? What was her fault? Her quarrels with her husband were none of their business; she never took part in their family quarrels, and never gave them advice. She didn't interfere and didn't want to let them in. But maybe that's the point: she's not like everyone else. Her roses were not like all the others, and her habits, and her speech, and her appearance, and her husband - so unique, and the house on the outskirts, not in the village, among them all. They forgave Orpheus for his oddities, but they did not want to forgive her the same. And only because she was a woman? So for men it was allowed and for women - not? So his secret words and hymns are worthy of glory and worship and my quiet word, which has nothing to do with any secrets, deserves only a fire and a cold steel driven into the heart? Nothing magical was in my words; my garden was kept only by care and affection. Only knowledge, only hands and experience matters, words are nonsense, they were more for me, I always was speaking to myself and then it was not so boring, because you do almost the same all the time: watering, digging, pruning, transplanting.  And sometimes such funny faces are seen in the flower cups, sometimes they fold the leaves as if the hands of dancers, or they cross the branches and you are looking and thinking  - what a pattern it would be for a dress. And look, they are alive,  they open corollas in the morning - in the evening they close them; they are growing, reaching out to the sun, they repel each other — living things they are, how you can help not to talk with them? So you go out and say good morning to every one of them, and as the wind blows it seems they are smiling and nodding as if saying "good morning to you, Eurydice!" That's the entire secret!
No one stopped her, and after two days of traveling, she found herself at the edge of the woods where their house stood. She has lingered there, running from place to place, hiding behind trees and carefully studying the well-known to her landscape. It took her not one hour. Most of all she wanted to know if anyone was in the house or not. The garden was blooming tranquilly; trees were bending their branches under the weight of fruits and everything seemed untouched. The window still was shielded - it still was as she left it, but the door to the house seemed to be locked. So they had been coming back here. They didn't touch the house, they didn't touch the garden, and they even fixed the door. A sudden burst of hope deafened her. Maybe they can come to agreement? Maybe she could stay after all. The idea of a trap waiting for her did not occur to her. She expected to see the ashes but found the carefully renovated housing and not a single soul around. There wasn't even any smoke from the hearth. All was silent.

 The sun was setting. Soon it will be evening. She hesitated whether it is better - to explore all before dark or to sit out here, in the woods, and get closer after the sunset. Impatience drove her forward; with the knife in her hand, she was less afraid of meeting anyone who might be in the house. Even if they had left a guard, there could not have been more than two people there otherwise she would have already noticed their presence. If she`ll approach from the backside where the small window is, it may not be noticed. Besides, she can't use the fire and she won't be able to find her cache in the dark. The main thing now was to get close to the house. There was a secret passage to the basement, a little aside from the small window that looked out into the garden; it was well hidden by the thickets of rose bushes. And if she will get there now, she can leave the trap door open and then it will be not so dark in the basement.  She will take out her treasures and hide them somewhere in the forest, in a secluded place, and then she`ll return and examine the house more thoroughly. If there is someone, perhaps she will be able to negotiate with them or intimidate them. Hardly are they armed, if so, they would have come that night also with weapon but they had only sticks and stones. She suddenly remembered that there, in the basement, it must be some weapon that had belonged to Orpheus - and her breath came easier. We'll get through somehow! The main thing is to understand would she be able to live here or not? And to understand it before the path leading to the forest and freedom will be cut off.


AGREEMENTS

Eurydice had managed to get unnoticed into the basement - or maybe really it was no one around. All was quiet in the house. She was carefully using the tip of her knife to move aside the earth from the stone in the wall to set it free and pull it out of the wall. Behind the stone, in, a niche, was laying a pouch with her money and jewelry. And she was so engrossed that failed to hear how one of the planks that closed the entrance into the basement from the house was moved and the light bare feet stepped on the first rung of the narrow staircase leading down. Eurydice feverishly picked the wall; the stone was unyielding, she was afraid to break the knife. The blade scraped the masonry, jumped off; she was shuddering every time but did not look back. She'll hear them if they start coming down. Men's feet, shod in heavy, durable sandals make a lot of noise. Doubtful it is that they will hide and be cautious. They are not waiting for anyone from this side, they will decide it`s a ferret or a weasel. She will hear them.

Meanwhile the bare feet had almost reached the second-to-last step and here they got into a trouble — the wooden plank happened to be as rotten as was that one, in the porch. Owners knew this and so never set a foot on it. There was no urgency in repairing; it was simpler to jump off since the step was not placed too high from the earthen floor. When it was necessary to carry up something heavy, Eurydice sent her husband. The idea was that when he would get tired from all this awkward jumping and climbing, he will certainly fix it, but Orpheus always preferred to leap over the couple of steps and thus all stayed as it was. And so, just like few days ago, the rotten board gave the way, and Auga, who had not expected such a turn, lost her balance and tumbled head over heels to the floor. The crash of her fall and the cry that followed it seemed to push forward the hand of Eurydice; the blade finally catched the stone and wrenched it out of the masonry. This movement was so abrupt that the stone fell right on her foot. She jumped back, barely able to hold the scream, and spun around, knife ready, hissing because of pain in her injured fingers.
A girl in a short chiton was sitting on the floor in front of her; her red hair were tied in a bun with a copper clip, round face was smeared with a berry juice. She was starring straight into the Dice's eyes, and slowly, with her hands trembling was pushing herself back, under the shelter of the stairs. When her back finally pressed against it, the girl froze; it seemed she has even stopped breathing only her huge dark eyes were living in her face distorted by fear.
- Who are you?"
- A-a — u- ga... - mumbled the girl.
Eurydice moved her knife slightly, but expressively. The girl cleared her throat.
- I`m the daughter of Glaucus, innkeeper, and I know you; you are Eurydice, Orpheus` wife.
Eurydice's eyes narrowed.
-The royal daughter. What an honor for poor me! What are you doing here? Answer, quickly!
- W-why ... the royal?
- Because your father is a king of the whole neighborhood, certainly if you are not lying about the kinship… With his money and influence you could already live in a noble family instead of   crawling here around, in the dark. Why did you come here? Speak up!
She took a step towards Auga, who gasped, jumped up and rushed under the stairs to the darkest corner.
- Don't touch me!  I'll tell you all!
Eurydice stamped her foot, the injured fingers immediately reminded her about their presence and she barely stifled the scream.
-Then answer, before the harpies will eat you! Speak up, now!!!!!
Auga has sobbed. She was frightened because during the time she had spent in the house, she has already become sympathetic to Orpheus` wife and even started to love her — if it is really possible to love somebody whom you had seen only a few times from the distance, with whom you has never spoken, and of whom you always knew only the worst. When Auga came here she was full of other people's evil thoughts and words, she knew that she has to live in this house and wait for the return of the witch, that she must be brave and patient, she must thinking like a lightning and run with the same speed. But her soul simply was turned over when she saw the garden, grown up by Eurydice. In her mind, a witch, an evil monster that caused people nothing but misery, simply could not have such a beautiful garden. When Auga first went through all its corners she thought she had entered a fairyland. Of course, she kept aside from the thickets but even the few walks along the tracks covered with soft grass, tracks that curled fancily among the fruit trees had appeared quite enough for her. There were apple trees and pears, the small pomegranate and stocky fig trees with their lush and dark-green crowns, with their wide, spreading leaves that hid pink and purple juicy fruits, and below their branches, as a bright spots, were scattered the flower beds of various colors. Auga couldn`t even imagine that there might be so many of them and so many different ones. But the most beautiful in this garden were the roses. White, silky, curled into the tight buds, and others, pink and lush, like the river wavelets clenched into a small fist. There were dark yellow roses with petals like the corners of a cloth. They were as if ironed and slightly curved at the edges what made them look incredibly proud. It was as if they were saying: “Just only try to touch me!” Even the corners of the petals looked sharp and hard. There were also purple, golden and dark red roses on long stalks impaled like huge balls on the lowly trees trunks. Numerous low-growing bushes, fringed with small roses of milky and greenish hues were settled along the paths. Auga was simply stunned by all this wealth and with the order that reigned in the garden. Here, in every flower, in each tree she saw the great care and tender affection. No evil sorceress could have such beauty, it was impossible. But time has come and she is face to face with this sorceress, the hostess of this magical corner. She must help her, no matter what it will take from her. But how she can fulfill this?
Eurydice took a step closer.
-  Baby, I don't have much time, but I remember you. You seem to be a bright girl and I've been told you have a good heart. Tell me what are you doing here?
- And you? I saw you have taken something out of that wall. What it was? A treasure?
Eurydice chuckled. Children are really amazing! I'm standing in front of her with the knife in my hand, she's sitting in the corner from where she`ll be able to get out only if someone will right now put a knife in my back - and she questions me ignoring my requires.
- Certainly, dear. Money and gold. Do you want to take them away?
She didn't risk anything. She wasn't going to kill Auga but to bind and gag her will be the matter of few minutes. Here is the rope lying, as for the gag - she can tear the piece of her dress off.
- You want to leave?
- I would rather stay. Maybe I`ll succeed to negotiate with your people. Everyone likes gold and in return I can promise to visit the village as rarely as it is only possible.
- They will take it from you! They`ll pretend to agree, take your gold, and then kill you anyway!
It came out like a bolt of lightning. Auga didn`t even expect it from herself. Eurydice stepped back.
- Why should I believe you? You are not even fifteen; you are still a child so how can you conceive all this?
And Auga told her all. About the council in the village and how and why it was decided to settle here a girl, almost a child, that people from the village are coming here every night to check Auga and see if the witch has appeared. That she had had a duty to lull the Eurydice vigilance when she would at last appear and to inform the villagers of her coming. That they had fixed the porch and put the door back not only because of Auga but also to give Eurydice an impression that she would be welcomed here. And to top it all off, she told how the villagers have been and still are making money showing this house to all the visitors and passers-by and what the prices for this service are.
Her father is not an evil man, - Auga said, - but he is a good merchant and is very practical. He has to be with the majority, because then it's easier to survive. Certainly, he knows how to protect his own interests but prefers to do it in a secret from this majority, too vociferous and equally short-sighted. If she would bring him this gold, she can persuade him not to give Eurydice away and to use his connections for helping her to settle somewhere else.
Eurydice stood as if stunned. It can't be! And then Auga put out her last trump card telling Eurydice the community's plans for her house. No one, said she, believes that Orpheus will be back. But even if he will, he won't stay for long because Eurydice won't be here anymore. Of course, they will not tell him they had killed his wife. They'll convince him that she's gone, had left with another man. And there will even be the witnesses who saw all this with their own eyes. They'll give this man the name and describe how he looked like; they will come up with all the details, especially with the most hurting ones. Orpheus won't even start looking for her. They won't let him. They will make him to hate this house and the garden, wait until he moves to another place and most likely, as before, will continue to lead strangers here, telling them stories and assuring that Orpheus had been here just recently and has left just now, and not for long. And maybe right now he will appear around the bend, and who knows, maybe you, stranger, will even be lucky enough to meet the greatest singer of this world. Who knows, maybe you will hear him singing and accompanying himself on the lyre of Apollo! Do you really feel sorry for a few coins paid for such happiness? No coins? Never mind, we can take "in kind" - fabrics, wool, olive oil, oil is even better. No, we do not need wine; we have an own luxurious cellar here. But… why not, where, you said, is your wine….?
Eurydice had long since sunk to the earthen floor, onto the coarse wool bag that she has found laying nearby. The other one she tossed to the girl. Her knife was laying beside and she kept her hand on the hilt listening intently to the noises around until Auga assured her that there was nothing to fear, that she was alone, and the villagers would come only when it will become dark. So they have time to discuss everything calmly. “But even if they come”, - Auga said – “I shall not betray you”. Eurydice widened her eyes and laughed.
- Of course, it's not profitable for you.
The girl straightened up as if from a blow.
- It is not profitable for my father. My reasons differ.
- And what are they?
- Won't tell you," – the little girl bent her head stubbornly. - Try to guess.
Eurydice sighed.
- Lets eat something. And give me some water, my throat is dry.
- With honey?
- Good! Or, no, just water.
The girl pouted.
- Right, will it be with honey."
Auga beamed and start to climb up. Dice took a step toward the stairs and Auga immediately hung her head down.
- No. If you go up and they come, they might see us before we shall see them. And I won't run away, don't be afraid. As you said, it is not profitable for me.
Eurydice grimaced. It`s bad that she has hurt the girl. But what she could do, no one can get into someone else's head, and when the question is of life and death no time is left for the ceremonies.


THE LAME LIGHT OF HOPE

Auga came down with some food and water and started anew her persuasions.
- You can't stay here!
- I want to wait for Orpheus... I cannot explain why.....
- No need. I understand you.
-  Indeed?
- Certainly. You love him! You want to be with him! You had a fight and he left. My parents also have quarrels, and quite often, but my father can't leave – because of all his property and because of us, me, my brothers, sisters, my mother, and besides all this, he is also a very important person here. It`s good on one hand, but on the other - you have no freedom, see it?
Eurydice was starring at the girl in great surprise.
- You're smart far beyond your age. If this goes on even our house with this lovely garden won't help you get married.
Auga laughed.
- My father promised to find me a rich, noble, and a stupid husband. We shall complement each other. Perfectly!
- You need a stupid husband? Why?
- Why? Because! If he won`t be able to realize how smart I am he would feel himself like the navel of the earth. And then it will be very easy to handle with him. It will be only necessary to scratch him from time to time behind the ear and then I`ll be able to do everything I want.
Eurydice had nothing to oppose. Deep down, she hoped the girl was joking. Barely was she so calculating and self-interested. That didn't fit with her offer to help and with the resentment that was still clearly audible in her voice.
And then Auga asked:
- You don't want to leave because you're afraid he won't start looking for you? You had such a serious fight? Is it forever?
Tears streamed from the eyes of Eurydice. Auga moved closer and like an adult put an arm around her shoulders.
- Don`t cry. Why won't you accept our help? My father will set you up in another house, far away from here and when Orpheus will come back he would tell him where to find you.  Maybe my father will even take Orpheus to you. And I shall insist on receiving all news about you - how you had settled, how you live, what are you doing.
- I don't think he will come back.
- Then why do you need this house?
- Because I don't have anything else. All my memories are here. As long as I'm here, we are together, you see?

Auga has nodded. She understood. The old dog, who had nursed her when she was a baby, had died a year ago. He was taught to rock her cradle and he did his job properly, sometimes thrusting his muzzle under the thin canopy and licking the baby from head to toe. For the first he always received delicious bones, for the second — the weighty beats. Auga made the demand to bury Argos (that was his name) on the edge of the village, under the roots of the large and gnarled pine tree where she had once taught him to walk on the hind legs and jump over the stick.
He performed all tricks unwillingly - he was too old for this, but the young trainer was obstinate and finally got her way. They often performed before the drunken guests at her father's house and they were even paid - how much who could and would. Now she used to come to the pine tree just for a sit and always had a strange feeling that old Argos is still alive and is about to leap out from the nearest willow bush with a joyful bark. So she did understand Eurydice, but she wasn't going to tell her why. Eurydice could be offended. Auga was really a very smart girl.
— You have to leave. Then you would be able to do something. If you will die, you'll never see him again.
Cold shiver had passed over Eurydice. She was resisting out of the empty stubbornness and the further all it went, the more clearly she saw - the girl is right, there will be no reconciliation. It's impossible. And she won`t be able to live here after what happened - they won't let her. Not because of her, because of themselves. Even if they would come to any amiable consent they will hate her hundreds times more, it will be like an abscess and sooner or later it will break through. Only this time they`ll take into account the mistakes of the past, and she won`t not be able to escape alive and unharmed.
- I was so eager to get here. I thought that it was the only place where I could wait for him. I had prepared myself to wait as long as would be appointed by the Gods and Fate. And I'm still ready to wait - today, tomorrow, always. But I`m afraid the Gods really want me to leave. In the last couple of days you become not the first who tried to send me into the uncertain.
- Who was the first?"
Eurydice peered out cautiously. The sun was almost down.
- A stranger ... recently…
Auga clasped her hands together.
- Ple-e-e-e-ase!
- Well, I don't mind - why not? Perhaps it really would be better to tell...even worth to tell ... don't know why.... But the story is long while your friends can show up very soon.
- No, not yet. They come only when it`s getting dark. When they come, I`ll tell them that everything is quiet and then return here. If you are scary of their coming into the house, you can hide in the garden, they won`t not notice you. I`ll tell nothing to them. We still have a couple of hours; tell me who beat me to it!
The battle story brought Auga to her feet.
- Take your seat, I haven't finished yet.
Auga sat back down on the sacks, but even sitting she seemed to be jumping in impatience.
- Oh, no! What silly you are! - exclaimed she, when Eurydice had finished. - Great Gods, what a great silly you are! Do you have even idea who it was?!
- No. A soldier from nowhere. But very polite. Didn't expect this.
- Silly you are! - repeated Auga, clenching her fists with fervor. - It was Heracles!
Eurydice at first was taken aback, but get angry then.
- Nonsense! How could you know?
- I know!  -  Little girl stubbornly slammed her fist on the palm. - I was named after Princess Auga, the mother of his son. I know all about him, I listen to everything - how he looks, how he behaves himself.  You said he allowed our people to take the dead! But in all Greece nobody does it, no one anywhere, just him! And his club! Do you think it's easy to take two people down and to crack the head of one of them – all at once? And his strength? To break man's back like a straw! And that story he told you! I've heard it many times from our guests - singers and warriors. The names differ but all say that it really happened to him. They say he almost ate himself afterwards for not taking the risk of swimming the river with that girl; he was too young then and not so sure of himself, and did not want to risk her life. He knew that he would fight back if he could buy her time to recover. But he didn't take any chances - and lost her.
Mountains had collapsed soundlessly around Eurydice. A scorched desert lay around.  “He didn't take any chances...” So did I… I took no chances either. What now?
And Auga was running on:
— No, no, it was him, his curly beard and the strength unbelievable! And this courtesy, this emphasized lack of curiosity and the main, his offer to help you! Silly you are, silly, silly thousand times, he was the friend of Orpheus, don`t you remember, they sailed together on “Argot”! For sure, he would have brought you together!
Eurydice was sitting as if dead. Auga continued to wave her arms in excitement.
— All you had to do was tell him who you were and he surely would have found you a place to live, a job, and people who could went to seek Orpheus or he would have gone himself and brought your husband back to you. Why, why didn't you tell your name?

It was over. It was quite clear now.  She knew that Orpheus would never return; she just wanted to live in a place where all was breathing with memories of him, where she could occupy herself with her garden and her housework and imagine that he was still around. After all, everywhere were his things - his cloaks and sandals, his comb, the cup from which he drank and earthen vase where he always put the flowers for her. But now she knew - she cannot get that only one she wants, that only thing she needs to continue her living. Auga was right - the great hero, great warrior and peacemaker, the demigod, the son of Zeus, Heracles, most likely, was the only one who could bring them together and reconcile. And she, by herself, had pushed the hand of Fate away. Eurydice knew that Auga might be wrong, but an inner voice, the dark, deep sense told her that little girl had guessed correctly. Even if it wasn't Heracles himself, that warrior might know him or might know something of him, where to find him and so on. If only she was brave enough to trust him! Of course, he was the first to set the example when started answering without any names and details but her fault was much greater because her curiosity was on the verge of the discourtesy! Her questions touched the things that didn't concern her and that she couldn't help him with, while his interest was motivated by the desire to get the things done. And here he was in his right –no one can help people without knowing what their trouble is and, certainly, the better you understand what is on the more effective your help will be. Of course, his evasiveness had played the role and she, Dice, simply has "mirrored" this manner of his, hiding behind the veil of brief and dry words. But if she was only able to access correctly the brevity of his story, if she could only conceive how much he really opened to her; if she hadn't been so worried about her precious female honor which, by the way, he didn't encroach on, if she'd told him everything in good faith, she might have gotten help or at least the good advice what to do and whom to contact. And either he or she, in the end would have remembered those to whom Orpheus might have gone, some old friends who could be relied on in the times of trouble and then surely - surely the name of Heracles would have come up! But she was so obsessed with her own saving plans that she didn't notice the outstretched hand. "Gods have brought you to my path," she told him. Yes, they did, but she, by her own self, had refused to accept it. And now the Gods turned their backs on her. How many of meaningless days were ahead now? What for to live? Wake up not knowing why and smile mechanically to a new day that will have no joy and no meaning? To live somewhere as if nowhere with a knowledge that she had lost all that was the most precious in her life, to live being tormented every hour by the mystery of two Eurydices, and in the end - to die still without seeing Orpheus, still without getting the answers to her questions? No. Better to die today, now.
Auga became quiet, listening. She crawled out of the basement and then came back.
- I have to go. Hide please and don't come out. They never approach the house, but if I'll be late for the meet, they can come here to see what happened.
Eurydice got to her feet and put the bundle with money and gold back into the hiding place.
- You must give me some time. I know you are speaking of right things but I need to think of it.  Or no, not to think, but…
She paused. Auga nodded understandingly.
- … accustom. You need to get used to what we have just discussed. I know, it's like at home. When my father says that I won`t get any sweets and I know why, and I know that it is right  because I would have done the same in his place, no matter, all the same I feel terribly hurt. In such cases you always need to wait a little while until you get used to the idea that you were punished fairly and you need to be happy that it turned out this way and not otherwise.
- Your intelligence scares me. Now go before they`ll start to seek for you. Try to be back soon.
- I won't be back tonight. You need the time to think, and I need the time to talk to my father - do you remember? I shall return tomorrow in the evening. I won't tell my father that you showed me the stash, I'll tell him that you only promised — if we shall help you out. Don't worry; I'll talk him into it. But don't leave the basement. I'll get you some water and food, yes?
- Yes, thanks!
Auga climbed upstairs, fiddled there around and a moment later was handing Eurydice a jug of water. Then lay on her stomach and lowered down her hands with the tray full of bread and dried fruits.
- Be careful.
- You too.
— I`ll do my best. That`s some more cheese for you. I'll try to take them back to the village but even if I fail - they won't come here. The door will be locked and they surely wouldn`t climb through the prickles and bushes without any obvious need. So if you will sit as quiet as a mouse, no one will find you!
She laughed softly and disappeared.
In fact, Auga was quite sure that her father would support her plan. But there was no sense in talking of it with Eurydice. If she will know that agreement was obtained at a high price, she will be more careful and won`t betray them - it`s important because they are risking too. The same was true also for her father. He also does not need to know that the treasure is already in their hands otherwise his desire to help will vanish certainly.

THE POWER OF DESPAIR

The girl has left. The door lock gnashed, and there come a silence. Noises of the night were not in a count - they were too familiar and thus unnoticed. Eurydice crept upstairs, groped in the dark a pile of cloaks that was lying on the shelf above the bed, and pulled down one of them, and then grabbed something else from the next pile. It was lighter in its weight so Eurydice hoped much that it was one of her chitons, and not one more cloak. In six months that passed she had been so often moving the things from place to place to occupy her hands and mind that sometimes forgot where she have put them. She took another pair of sandals from under the bed, went back down to the basement, changed the sandals and changed her dress. Then she rolled a stone that was lying against the wall up to the trap door which led out of the basement into the bushes in the backyard.  She couldn`t remember what for it was used before but now it was right in time. She propped up the door with it. Of course, it can still be broken, but first it will still need to be found, and even if they succeed and will start breaking it, she will hear the noise. She'll wake up and hear them.
She was incredibly sleepy. If she hadn't eaten the food brought by Auga, it might have been easier, but the feeling of satiety having superimposed onto the previous two days of the sleepless travel now overwhelmed her. All this time she found the strength in her will and longing for home but now here she was and had no power to resist this drowsiness compelling.
I`ll sleep a little, she decided. I'll hear if they will start breaking in. As Auga said - sit quietly and everything will be all right. What could be quieter than a sleep?  The death only…
She shuddered. No, it's still too early for that. Maybe tomorrow, with the daylight, something will change, or maybe even right now, who knows? She dropped her head on the rolled-up bag and put hands under her head. She needs to sleep a little, just a little, just to refresh her. Her eyes closed, her breath became quieter, and the next minute she was already asleep.

Little Auga was running as fast as she could. She will persuade her father and they will save this silly Eurydice. And when Orpheus will return it will be her, Auga, who will tell him everything and take him to that place where his beloved lives. She would tell him that it was her, that it was Auga who had set it all up and he would thank her and perhaps will even compose a song about all this, a song that  would  be sung all over the Greece. And so she will become as famous as her namesake, that Arcadian Princess. And then Heracles, the greatest of the Greek heroes, will hear about her, little Auga, and will become terribly interested. And he will come here by himself or will simply send for her.
By that time she would be already fifteen or even more; she would be a grown-up, and when he would see her, he would fall in love with her. And she will give him a son who will be even more like him than that one, from the Princess. And later ...  But now Auga had no time to think of what could happen later, she flew into the village and rushed to the house. Instead of greetings her father slapped her sharply on the back of her head:
- You got crazy? What for have you come so late in the night?!!
But Auga didn't even flinch under the blow. In fact, she barely has noticed it. She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house. There, choking with the words, she laid out all details.
- Did she point where the stash is?"
- No.
Glaucus slammed his fist on the table.
- She will leave. Along with the money.
- She can't, dad. Our people are still there, watching. She will sit quietly and wait for me. We had agreed.
Old Glaucus pondered. All knew that Eurydice has money; she was paid handsomely for her flowers and advices, so there is something to profit from. But no one can rely on women in such cases; no one can make any business with them. And where would you order to settle this poor thing? It would be necessary to hire the guards for her, to equip them for riding to another town, to find acquaintances, and to keep in touch all the time in future. And what if Eurydice would blurt it all out, what if she would betray him, what if his fellows-villagers would reveal this secret – it will be a complete disaster, he would not be forgiven for that. Even without this possible misfortune the fight for Orpheus` house was furious, almost up to death. As long as Auga is living there waiting for Eurydice-the house belongs to him, but for how long?
- Say again how you have agreed it all?
- She's expecting me tomorrow…
- Tomorrow - at what time?
- Tomorrow, in the evening. We must invent how to get her out and move her somewhere, to the other town. As soon as we shall settle her up, she will tell us where the gold is.
Glaucus chuckled. The gold is hidden in the house. Great it is. Now Auga should be sent away, and he himself has to send a call for the neighbors.
He bent over the girl, looked into her eyes and stroked her hair. His gestures were too clumsy; in fact, old Glaucus has always been stingy with sweeties and caresses. All these signs of affection his sober mind of a merchant did not accept, considering it as a weakness. But there was a special case. She surely will be happy. Otherwise, what am I supposed to do-pay her to go to bed? Pure nonsense!
- Go and sleep, dearest. You are tired, I see. It was hard running through the windfall, in the night... Go and lay down, my little golden star, my little swallow…
Glaucus gently touched the daughter's forehead with his lips and went to the front door. On the threshold he turned:
- Go for sleep to your room, it is warmer there.
And he went out.
The last sentence sounded like an order. He relaxed, hasn`t managed to hold the mask up to the very last point. Little Auga tensed as a string trying to guess what was her father up to; all these endearments, all these "swallows" and "golden stars" - why? And why must she go upstairs where it's cold and blowing? It is much warmer in the cellar where she has her own cozy corner, where woolen cloaks and blankets are spread out, and where always so many tasty things under her pillow are — tortillas, dates, cheese. In the cellar ... Ah, that's it, he wants to remove her from there! She darted to the front door risking a scolding and heard him ordering a slave boy to run to the blacksmith and the herbalist, his minions. She gasped and rushed for the stairs that led up to the gallery connecting all the second-floor. All living rooms and bedrooms were there. He will return in a minute and later will come those for whom he has sent and they will speak here, in the inn-hall. Swear by the name of Zeus, I will hear all that is possible!

When she heard men's voices below, Auga, as a quiet mouse, started her way to the cellar across the yard, through a spare manhole. No one noticed her. Her father was sure she was asleep. Of course, he came to check her. Auga was snoring so diligently during that few moments that her neck still ached from the strain.
Muffled voices were humming overhead. All was necessary to discuss thoroughly, in details, and the time was running out. The little red-haired girl, crouched in an awkward position was listening intently with her ear pressed to the floorboards. Tears were streaming down her cheeks; she was clenching her fists in a rage. Her father had betrayed her. He had opened all to Acastus, the herbalist and Neocles, young blacksmith, the son of old Tyreus, who had his hands burned and couldn`t  forge longer. Neocles worked slowly, because he was neither confident nor experienced enough - up to the recent times he was only an assistant to his father. But there was no other way, villagers needed the blacksmith and Glaucus also needed the blacksmith, so Neocles was obliged to learn the craft urgently, escorted by the incessant cursing of his father by which the last one was speeding and guiding him. After consulting all three came to the decision: to kill Eurydice and to divide the money. Glaucus was ready to give up his part, he was asking for a miserable amount, just symbolical, but he put one condition - the house would go to Auga as a dowry. . And you can't kill a witch here; she has to be taken away from these places. Let her think we are saving her.  We shall find the guards, pay them little more than usual and they will finish her on the way. We need no haste, all must be done step by step. Let the witch stay there, in her house, in the basement - at least for a week. It will be quite reasonable - as we need the time to agree and organize everything. Auga, in the meanwhile, would try to tame Eurydice a little better - then it will be easier to handle with her. And we mustn’t give up the opportunity to get money earlier than was planned. If the girl will be more attentive and will manage to spy where the witch is hiding her gold then all this nonsense with the trip and guards will not be necessary. And of course, everything must be kept in secret from the villagers.

The voices boomed together — and stopped. The floorboards creaked and the footsteps quieted in the doorways. Her father pushed the bolt, yawned loudly, and went to his room. He wasn't afraid of being betrayed by his fellows. Passers-by willingly turned to his inn, sometimes even gave a special detour to enjoy the excellent wine cellar and fine cuisine. Roads were heavy and dangerous so both the blacksmith and herbalist were always welcomed. And almost all the villagers were Glaucus debtors in one way or another, so if anything unwanted would happen he will just remind them about it. The singer`s house was nearly in his hands and he had refused to take the gold; that share he had defined for himself might not even be taken in account - so small, in fact, it was. Only the "ideological leadership" was lying on his shoulders; to negotiate and to pay the mercenaries was also the task for Neocles and Acastus. And again this was quite reasonable; he was too important and too famous here for doing such things himself.
When all finally came still, Auga crawled out of the cellar, slithered up the stairs, fell on the cot and closed her eyes. She needs to warn Eurydice. Well, but first she needs some sleep. Otherwise she will break her neck in the woods tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she will save Eurydice.


ON THE EDGE OF FATE

Through all the day Auga was consumed with impatience. She sought to run back to Orpheus` house, but a deal must be a deal - Eurydice had asked for some time to think, and Auga was waiting obediently for the appointed hour. On her way to the house she gathered a lot of berries; she ate some and hid the others into the hem of her chiton - for Eurydice. Here, at last, was the house. She pulled the key out from under the porch and opened the door. It was quiet inside, very quiet. There were clothes on the bed discarded from the shelf, and the sandals, smeared with the dirt and grass stood next to the headboard. A foreboding gripped tightly the girl's heart. On wobbly legs she went down to the basement. It was empty. The whole house was completely empty.

And then the nightmare began. Auga understood well the utter senselessness of her actions but she could not stop. She darted from wall to wall, going down into the basement and coming out through the trap door again and again. She was running in circles all around the garden that was bathing in the rays of the setting sun. She couldn't scream because someone could hear her. Where is Eurydice? What if she has gone? But where to and why? And why she has gone with empty hands? It looked as if she only had changed her clothes, and that was all. Auga carefully looked through all what was laying on the shelf. Fabrics of the cloaks and chitons were different, there were wool, well as linen things, but all the cloaks were of dark colors, and all chitons of almost pure white, with the pattern on the hems, and this pattern was the same everywhere. And as far as Auga could judge, all the clothes and shoes were here.  But if Eurydice really left for good, she would have taken at least some money. Auga rushed down. Feverishly, with incredible efforts, wringing her fingers, she managed to pull the "secret" stone out of the masonry, then put her hand in the hole and suddenly felt an icy cold. The pouch was still there; she hooked the cord and pulled it out. A moment later, she was holding it tightly and it looked exactly the same as when Auga had first seen it in Eurydice's hands. And it was unlikely that if she was going to leave as both Auga and Heracles suggested — after all, I am right, it was he, Heracles it was, I am sure — it was unlikely that she would have taken only the part of her wealth. If you are leaving - leave completely, if you are taking what is yours - then take it all. Even if she had an idea to leave me something then it would rather be a hairpin, or may be a comb, just for a memory. And if she was so eager to leave, why didn't she wait for Auga as it was decided? Why didn't she say goodbye? Or maybe she thought that Auga was deceiving her? But why did she leave her gold? Aye, something wrong was here. Maybe she went into the woods, to the stream, maybe she wanted to swim a little; she told that she had been on the road for long. The guards usually were sitting off to the side, they did not approach the house, and they were waiting for the witch that will come from the forest to the house, so they could easily skip Eurydice leaving the house for the forest. In addition, Auga told them that Eurydice had not appeared yet, so most likely all this time they were sleeping by the fire, forgetting about the entire world. She has to go to the stream. Maybe something happened. It is still light now, there must be any traces; Eurydice is live, not a spirit, not a ghost. Auga was taught to read the tracks, she`ll find the young woman. In any case, she must do all she can.

Auga stuffed the purse back, put the stone in its place, trying to catch her breath because it opened to be too heavy for her, and rubbed it carefully with the dry mud to make it not differ much from its fellows. She started her way to the stream, keeping a sharp eye for the footprints on the road. Soon she found the fresh ones left by sandals, female if judging by the size. She picked the speed up, and then ran, but the tracks suddenly disappeared. Auga start swinging her head around being unable to understand what had happened - was Eurydice really fled away like a bird into the sky?  It took her several minutes to notice finally the narrow track branched off to the left of the main path. She took few steps along it, bending almost to the ground, looking intently at every inch of it, at every stone, tussock, leaf. But the ground here was wet, springy underfoot, and the tracks- even if there were any - were already erased. She went on doggedly.  "I'll reach the stream" - she thought. "Since I get here - I shall go to the end".
The track led her to a clearing on the stream bank. Auga gazed it over and her heart almost stopped. A cloak was hanging down from a broad branch of a beech and beneath it the female sandals were placed carefully. Something was whitened right near the water. Auga caught her breath in her throat. Slowly, on her legs buckling, she moved closer. Something white, crumpled, not quite discerned was lying on the grass. One step, another… Her heart was pounding against the ribs, threatening to jump out, her fingers trembled. She knew for sure what it was — and didn't want to know it. One more step she made, then crouched down next to the white lump and smoothed it out, biting her lip until it bled. The chiton, with the pattern same as on that ones, in the house, and the small clasp of enamel, with two doves on a twig, just like that she had noticed on Eurydice's shoulder.

Everything went black. Auga fell and buried her face in the soft fabric. She wasn`t crying. She just wanted to tear someone apart, into the small pieces. No! Into the very small pieces! Eurydice went away. She has gone there, into the water, she has gone for good. She had left clothes, shoes, money. She didn't take anything with her. That mean she did it for purpose, that she had left it all for someone. She left it all for her, Auga. Auga stood up slowly. She must return to the house. She has to take these things and go back to the house. No. She mustn`t take them. Let them find all this. Let them find it and be sure that there is no Eurydice, anywhere. She is gone, she is dead - forever. Then they won't be looking for her. If they think that she had simply left her home, Auga will be punished in such a way that it's really scary even to think about it. Her father wouldn't kill her, of course, but there is no doubts that after the execution she for long wouldn't be able to take a sit because it was she who had left Eurydice alone, practically unattended. She wasn't supposed to run to the village, she was supposed to help capture her, or at least send one of those who came for help and then go back to the house and guard Eurydice until the villagers arrived. She has to leave these things here and go back. The sentries will come soon, they do not know that Eurydice had already been and gone. Let all stay this way. And for her father - Eurydice is in the house and is sitting in the basement. Great!
Auga quickened her pace. She has to come by the appointed time. If she will be late, they will go to the house to look for her and everything can be revealed. But she still has one more important thing to do. When she`ll finish it - then she will be able to sit down somewhere in a dark corner or may be under that pine tree where Argos is buried and cry - sobbing, clapping her hands over the mouth, gasping for breath, and pounding her heels on the ground -  just as she had the day when he died. And she must remove the hidden wealth; she must take it out and re-hide. They will search in the house, and she will hide it in the garden - for a while, until they would be absolutely and definitely convinced that there is no gold: nothing at all, nowhere, not a crumb of it. And then she'll hide it again in a new place, Auga already knew where. If she will manage to do everything quietly and on time — there will be no complaints against her. Once more she stroked her head inwardly for not telling her father that she knew where the gold was hidden. The sentries will come soon, and she will set off with them to find Eurydice. And they will find the sandals and the dress — she will do all her best for it. And then they will go to the village and tell everyone that the witch had drowned herself. Her father won't be upset - less trouble for him and besides, that share he has determined for his own — mere pennies it is, almost nothing. The house would be most likely left to them and Auga will continue to live there and care the garden. Shall we disappoint those who want to look at the great singer's home for a fee, and moreover - what if he still returns? Certainly, for the first time they will put the guard at the house or perhaps her father will move the family of her older brother here, surely he will not give up the house, Auga will get it as a dowry, but firstly she will get a lot of troubles for not had been able to find out primarily about the gold and only then run to the village.

She will hide the pouch in the garden, in the rose thickets behind the house. She's small and skinny — she'll quite easy get in and bury it there. Such riots of thorns are in those bushes that villagers will never come to the idea of looking there. It will be quite suitable for a start. Later she will hide it in her father`s wine cellar. He knows it like the back of his hand, that`s why it will be the most safest because he thinks that making a stash in the place most obvious for the thief, is the most stupid decision you can come to.  He's a very cunning man, her father — his own hiding place is in a most plain sight but no one can suspect it. Next to the cesspool it is, on the backyard. But only them two - he himself and she, Auga, know this. And about her own hiding only she would know. And when she will grow up and marry, she will take this gold and money with her or perhaps will hide it again in the house of Orpheus - if they will live there. And when the singer returns, she will give him back all this wealth and tell him absolutely everything, and about Heracles too - how he saved Eurydice from the death in the stream. She will tell him everything what Eurydice told her: why she refused from the help suggested, why she returned to the house, how she wanted to wait for him, her beloved husband in the place, where everything was filled with the memories of their love, and how she had put her trust in her, Auga. And how later, all of sudden had left the house and died.
If not, she will try to find the singer. He needs to learn what happened. He must find out how much Eurydice loved him. Must!

It will be a difficult journey. And it will need money and a rich, stupid husband who can be manipulated as you wish. But she won't harm him; she'll be nice to him.  After all, without him, she will not be able to perform her plans.
And when at last she will meet Orpheus and tell him all — he will make a song about it, and it will be sung all over Greece. And then Heracles himself will hear about little Auga, "the shining", and will come to see her. And will fall in love with her. And she will bear him a son who will be more like him than any others, and even more than that one, from the Arcadian princess. She won`t require to become his wife, of course not, because she herself will be already married by that time. But the son from Heracles is a gift from the Gods – and as far as she wants a hero son, so his father must also be a hero, the great man. And no matter that today she is just a little Auga but she deserves the Great Fate, and for this you need a Great Dream.

It was already dark when Auga crawled out from under the thorns and dusted off her hands. Well, here it is. It's done. She returned through the secret passage to the basement, went upstairs, changed her clothes and washed her hands and face. An owl screamed outside. Guardians. Well, the game started. At the stake are the magic garden of Eurydice that waits for her diligent hands, and her own dream — the Great Dream of little Auga. There is something to try for.
And she really can do it. She will succeed.

Auga went out on the porch. The owl's cry sounded again. And something had stirred inside. As if she was said into her ear: "Don't be afraid, just take your way and I`ll stay by you, and help if necessary”. And the heat came from inside as if a small light had flared up and warmed her.
And Auga calmly went to the call.


BETWEEN THE WORLDS

All around her was a ghostly desert. The colors were dark, the sounds were muffled, the outlines indistinct. Strange creatures made of the misty fragments lived here, some were like trees with arms and legs instead of branches, the others were like flames or flowing waterfalls. And through all these streams, fire tongues and rolling foliage the attentive eyes were looking at her. Trees were luring her, they swayed and nodded, bending their branches, whirlwinds of flame came closer to her and stretched out long fire tongues as if in a welcome gesture, water streams were coiling around embracing and cradling her, whispering something delicate and trusting. Dice went on and on through the desert toward the dark horizon where the great Wall appeared that seemed to have no the end or the edge. It was like the dark polished marble and the higher it gets, the thicker its blackness was.
And the closer Dice got to the Wall, the more clearly she saw the face of a strange girl slowly coming into being — a pale face with  huge eyes, broken curves of her long brows, sinuous unsmiling mouth with dimples in its corners. Her thin fingers were raised to the lips in the imperious gesture. Then the eyes turned to Eurydice, saw her, and the tight mouth opened. The girl turned her palm up and held it out in calling gesture. "Here you are at last," - Eurydice heard her saying. Her voice was not loud, but was deep and distinct. "Finally you are coming. I`m missing you, I'm waiting for you. I've been waiting for you a long time. I'm so lonely here and you're going too slowly. Hurry up, please."  Strange creatures made of the mist suddenly began to swirl around Eurydice as if trying to separate her from this mysterious ghost. "I`ll come," - replied Eurydice, pushing away some of them, the most importunate, - "please, can you wait a little more..." "I can" - agreed the stranger, - «but you mustn't delay for too long. And when you will come, we shall finally talk of him....!» And right at that moment when Eurydice was about to ask who this "he" was, the strange face melted, misty creatures melted too and she awoke.

It was a deep, dark hour in the night when Eurydice has rolled back the stone and climbed out. Scent of the roses filled her nostrils. The moon was shining brightly so it was easy to walk. The night was warm. The path leading to the stream was like a smooth, glistening ribbon, as if it had been swept clean a moment ago. At some point, Dice turned off the road onto another that she had never used before. She wasn't cold, she wasn't scared, and she wasn't even wondering where to she was going or what for. Quietness was slowly growing inside her, as it always happens when you do something what you had been planning for a long time, something very rightful, what you can't do without.
The path led her to a small, almost oval in its shape glade right on the waterside. Huge old beeches, very thick and mossy, stood there in a line, forming the ring, sheltering this quiet place with their low-hanging branches, cradling it in the long green paws. Smells were sweet and teasing, a slight haze was hanging over the water but there was no sound other than the murmur of the stream. Eurydice came nearer, sat down on the grassy bank, took off her sandals and put her feet into the water. It was warm. Her foot touched the bottom - sandy and solid it was and she stepped into the stream waves, picking up her dress. The bottom was sloping slowly and constantly, without any sudden changes. "May be swim a little...» - was her thought but she immediately opposed it: "Later, I`ll better sit here for a while." She returned to the bank and sat down again, running her hands through the thick grass. "I was here" - all of sudden flashed in her head and short, incoherent thoughts took off in a moment, racing in a circle; they were like hammers destroying the barriers that blocked her own past inside her mind. "I was here already! It is that very place from my dream. I was here. I remember it!  These beech trees! I remember, we always laughed imagining them as fairy-tale giants who came to listen to his songs and if he will not sing properly, they will get angry and won't let us out.
Wild pain exploded in her temples spasming her entire body; fire of the blinding brightness started its mad dance before her eyes. The flame wheels were spinning and rushing straight to her, increasing in volume, her heart was pounding in a crazy shots. Memories came to her - flooding back, crowding around, they were tugging her hands and each of them as if pleaded: "Look at me, I'm here, I'm here too, please, you must look at me!" "And what about me? Do you remember me? » - were asking some of them insistently peeping into her face. Images followed one another, spinning in a wild vortex; they paused for a moment before her mind's eye as if giving a chance to observe them in full and then disappeared, giving the way to others. Time had stopped. Dice was going from hot to cold, shivering all over the body: the answer to the riddle of the two Eurydices was obediently lying at her feet. She has recalled all to the smallest details and that girl too.
"She`s waiting for me. She is only one who is waiting, only one who wants to see me. She`s missing me, she`s calling me. She's alone. She`s tired of loneliness. We shall be together and recall him together and talk about him together, we shall sing his hymns to each other, I`ll be with her, she`ll be with me, and he will also be with us - in our hearts, words and thoughts.... And so it will always be - forever. And one day he will join us and will be with us - forever. Gods, here it is!  Eternity filled with love and sense! Here it is - the great reward and the great consolation. I said I was ready to wait for him - forever. Time has come to fulfill the promise. Dark Princess the Death, I remember you, I accept your offer. I promised you to come. I'm coming, Princess, I'm coming to you…»

She folded the cloak and hung it on a nearby branch; put her sandals next to it. Pulled her chiton off the shoulders, cast it away and then waded into the stream. The warm water took her in its gentle embrace. Eurydice sank her hands into the dark waves, helping herself to go further and deeper. The fog thickened and enveloped her in a ghostly ring. The green canopy of the forest sent a solemn whisper after her, and the bright stars that dotted the vault of the sky moderated their brightness.
The stream closed over her head.


Sept 2017- July 2020
(to be continued)

P.S.
Eurydice – from the ancient Greek word
(eurius)that means «wide, spacious,
wide-encompassing» + (dike) - «law»