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could be made welcome should she ever visit this kingdom, was bare and open to the sky, the temple floors dense with weeds.
    â€œMy father says,” explained the princess, “that we should not be prayerful, like the men and women in other lands.” She added, “The small temple of Juno where I pray is kept quite pretty.”
    â€œBut the queen of wisdom must be sorrowful,” said Orpheus, “when she sees this crumbling marble step.”
    By night the vista from the ruined temple was only an abyss of empty darkness, the hills and far-off ocean sullen and invisible under the stars. Something about the sight gave the poet a shiver. Orpheus loved daylight, with its lively animals and laughter – he knew that darkness was no human being’s friend.
    The poet reached down to tug at a weed. “I am afraid for your father’s kingdom, dear Eurydice.”
    Some said that only the sweetest herbs grew in a temple, even one lost to ruin like this. Orpheus placed the leaves gently on the broken marble altar.
    The poet gave voice to a poem he crafted at that moment.
    Forgive the rain ,
    Eurydice, the rain and the wind ,
    for not loving you as I do .
    A presence approached from the darkness above, a pale shadow slipping across the stars, called forth by Orpheus’s voice.
    Silver-feathered plumage circled closer, the breeze from the beating wings stirring Orpheus’s hair as he reached up into the darkness.
    The poet took a great owl onto his outstretched hand.
    Some said that Minerva occasionally took the form of a feathered hunter like this. The warm talons gripped the poet’s wrist, and the black, all-seeing eyes looked into his own.
    The princess was unable to make a sound, shocked into wonder.
    The owl turned her night-conquering eyes toward Eurydice. And then the luminous bird spread her wings and glided off, lofting upward through the starlight.
    â€œOrpheus, do you think this is how you can win me?” asked Eurydice breathlessly. “By showing off your wonderful powers?”
    Orpheus made an attempt to respond, but Eurydice silenced him with a kiss.
    Did Orpheus ask Eurydice to be his wife by whispering a poem, or did he employ ordinary speech, like any mortal?
    No one will ever know.
    Later that night Eurydice knelt in the small temple of Juno, the tidy marble interior and starlit columns a contrast to the forgotten sanctuary of Minerva.
    She thanked the divine consort of Jupiter for bringing the poet to her father’s kingdom.
    She did not forget to add a prayer for her future husband’s health.
    â€œPlease, immortal Juno,” she breathed, “may he encounter no harm.”

NINE
    King Lycomede clapped his hands and danced when he received the news.
    â€œMy permission?” he chortled. “My dear Orpheus, do you think me a madman? I prayed for this, even in my godless heart!”
    The king called for the minister of ceremonies, an official who arrived dabbing at his lips with a linen napkin.
    â€œI decree it!” cried the king with a laugh. “No sad faces will be allowed anywhere in my kingdom.”
    â€œMy lord king, as you wish!” said the minister, looking with dazed amazement from his monarch to Orpheus.
    â€œWe’ll have a glorious wedding,” cried the king, “and every single mortal under the sky is invited.”
    Plans for the wedding began, and they took a fortnight to unfold, even with eager hands helping every hour.
    Some of the preparations were traditional throughout Greek lands, such as the torchlight procession being readied so that the celebrants could sing the solemn, beautiful hymns of Hymen, the mysterious deity who oversaw weddings.
    Other details, like the great bronze bathtub being smithed for Eurydice’s ritual pre-wedding bath, were peculiar to her kingdom. New drinking cups of silver were hammered into shape in the artisans’ shops, and garlands of agate and gold leaf were spun, rare