Nightsong Read Online Free PDF Page B

there, and while servants and matrons laughingly suggested he fly off like a jackdaw and leave honest women alone, it was a tradition that men and women – even when they were betrothed – could meet at the watering place to make conversation.
    â€œTonight!” breathed Orpheus when he was close to her.
    We’ll meet tonight .
    â€œI’ve a new poem for you,” whispered Orpheus when passion allowed him to speak that evening.
    The white walls of the royal dwellings reflected the soft light of stars. A gentle breeze blew, swirling Eurydice’s mantle, and the round opening of the wellhead gave off a hush.
    And yet there was no telling what divine powers might be listening – the gods were said to be fascinated with humans and their loves and woes. Rumor herself was thought to be a persistent being, in form somewhat like a young woman. She was an assistant to Mercury, messenger of the gods, and was said to have ears that could hear a promise broken far at sea.
    Orpheus had nothing to fear from any divine power, but he wanted his song to be for Eurydice’s ears only. And so he began to sing softly, words that he had woven and reworked all the hours they had spent apart.
    â€œWho’s there?” cried a distant voice, interrupting the first verse.
    An armored figure tramped forth out of the lamplight.
    â€œOh, my lord prince and my lady princess, do forgive me, please,” said the helmeted guard, starlight reflecting from the point of his spear. “We have an extra watch out tonight,” the guardsman continued. “They say that a griffin attacked a mule driver out by the olive grove this afternoon.”
    â€œWas the poor man hurt?” asked Eurydice.
    â€œOh, my lady princess,” laughed the guard, “our muleteers are made of heartwood.”
    But the guard waited, and would not depart, adding at last, “If you’ll forgive me, the king’s orders are that it is not safe to be out tonight.”
    â€œI’ll hear the rest of your poem, Orpheus,” whispered Eurydice to her husband-to-be, “tomorrow – on our wedding night.”
    Juno, look
    to the apple blossom ,
    protect it ,
    cupping your hand against the frost .
    Orpheus was disappointed at the delay.
    But he looked forward all the more ardently to singing these living words to Eurydice – his new wife.

ELEVEN
    The wedding ceremony was as grand as the exultant king had wished.
    The procession was splendid, every voice joining in the hymn to Hymen. Torchlights carried by the throng illuminated the early evening. The princess stopped at the newly garlanded temple of Juno, and she left a lock of her hair on the altar, as tradition dictated.
    Then she continued on to her father’s main hall, where further hymns to Hymen were chorused, accompanied by flutes and tambours – vibrant, soul-stirring music.
    But as Orpheus took the hand of Eurydice, in harmony with ancient ceremony, some small event troubled him.
    One of the torches in the great hallway flickered and expired, giving off a plume of white smoke.
    Perhaps Orpheus was the only celebrant who observed this. Even as he completed singing his wedding hymn, he added an additional, silent prayer – to Apollo, the lord of daylight.
    Protect this marriage, he earnestly prayed.
    And may that spume of pale, twisting smoke not prove to be an omen.
    The celebrations went on through the night, but at one point not long before morning, as was proper, Orpheus excused himself.
    Following wedding custom, the bridegroom would wait in his chambers while a further procession, of the bride and her friends, took her through her old neighborhood, dancing to the sound of tambours, clapping hands, and much laughter. Then, after the gathered friends sang a wedding song, all would retire, leaving the newly married couple to the delights of the approaching dawn.
    Biton was nowhere to be seen, but he had prepared the wedding bed, and left lamps