290 - Parts One and Two

290. Parts the First and the Second of the Twelfth Moonly Letter, to be written by Heather to her brother Arley during the very first days of the Truelove Evergreen Moon.

Dear Arley,

I saw Cami the other day for a second and she said you would be home soon. She’s says you’ve done very well and no longer need any training, and needn’t live away from home any longer. I was very glad to hear this, because I miss you so. And so does Thistle. And Little Mauel, who is here by my side asking me what kind of cake I will bake for him this month says he misses you too.

As I told you, I spent most of last month observing Uncle Rich and Beau while they were trying to find a baby for Fiona. But that is not all that happened. There is something I kept back, because I had to tell you Beau and Uncle Richie’s story first. One morning, while I was sitting in a window seat there is in my kitchen,  watching in my mind how our uncle and my boyfriend had sailed to Epirus and were having breakfast among the waterlilies of the Acheron, the Leafies Vinny and Dolphus knocked on the glass of the window I was sitting by. I immediately opened it and they said, “We found her! Do you want to give her your approval before we send her to him?”

“Found who?” I asked in surprise.

“We got together, a whole bunch of Leafies from all over our forest and your garden, because we didn’t think anything good would come out of Hades. And we decided to beat the matrons to the draw.”

“The matrons?”

“How do you think the syndicate of child-givers get to have babies to give out?” Vinny asked me. And before I could answer, he said, “Those ladies one orders babies from? They spend most of their time searching everywhere for kids to give out. We see them at night in our forest, heavily cloaked and moving like phantoms, checking trees, clearings, mounds, even under piles of leaves, searching and  searching for newborn fay kids, so they can give them to fay folk that have ordered some.”

“I had no idea they did that,” I said.     

“Most of the kids they get hold of are born at night. Those that are born by day are more easily spotted by fairies who want children. You know, if a parentless fay kid under seven appears before you and you see it, you have a right to it and can carry it off. Of course, if it is a  day or a few days old, it can talk. And you should ask it if it wishes to be yours. And respect its wishes. But babies that have been born right in the middle of the night don’t usually talk yet. And they are not easy to spot unless you are really up close. So most of these go unclaimed.  And the matrons carry them away if they find them, and take them to folks who ordered a kid.”

“I didn’t know the matrons scoured the woods by night. I thought they grew the kids they give out in cabbage patches or among brussels sprouts or something of the sort.”

“No. They grab hold of any newborn fay kid they see, anywhere they see it. Before it can find itself parents it likes. That’s why ordered kids are sometimes a little strange, and don’t always seem to be part of a family, though there are many exceptions.”

“Not if it can talk,” said Dolphus. “Kids that can talk can’t be taken. That would be kidnapping. Not kids that are a day or two old or such. Those have escaped the matrons, and can choose their own parents.”

“And you have found one of those? For Uncle Richie?”

“Talk to her, and she’ll say she’s willing,” said Vinny. “She doesn’t look like the sort of child who wants to grow up feral at all.”

So, filled with curiousity, I allowed Vinny and Dolphus to escort me to Minced Forest. And there, in a bird’s nest, in a tree covered with yellowing moss, sat what looked like a little bird fairy, probably a week or so old.

“How can she have not been taken?” I asked the Leafies in whispers. Three or four of them had joined Vinny and Dolphus. They had been watching the bird baby for hours so no one would get to her before we did.

“She doesn’t show herself to just anyone. Days old babies know how to hide. And they are usually very cautious,” said Frankie.

 “And choosy. Be careful what you say,” whispered Vinny. “You don’t want to have to keep her for yourself.”

“Hello, little girl,” I said, letting myself be seen, “would you like to be my cousin? I’m from an almost always nice family.”

The little girl smiled and said, “You’re cute. I wouldn’t mind having you for a role model. But to be your cousin I would need a dad or a mum first.”

“My uncle would love to have you for a daughter,” I said. “He’s searching desperately for one and he’s a very nice man.”

“Tell her he’s a big spender who willl spoil her rotten,” whispered Vinny to me, but I didn’t do that.

“If he is like you,” said the child, “I might be interested. But shouldn’t I check your uncle out first?”

And the result was that she turned into a little hummingbird and flew westwards, to check Uncle Richie out.

And that’s not the all of it.

While I wa standing by the nest wondering what to do next, Grandma Divina suddenly appeared.

“Heather,” she said, “has your boyfriend returned? Are he and Richie back from where they went?”

“Let me see,” I said. “No, they are just done having high tea with Uncle Evenfall. And Uncle Evenfall has just become more than plain friends with the goddess Melinoe. And he is about to walk her dogs with her around the gardens of his ruins which are infested with his cats.”

“What?” said Grandma. “Evenfall is probably doing this to keep Richie from flirting with her.”

“Maybe. But I think he really likes this lady. They seem to have more than deaf cats and mute dogs in common.”

“Whatever! You never know with Evenfall. He is very secretive about his affairs. Richie and Beau are strolling too?”

“They’re walking home. There’s…this little hummingbird singing along with Uncle Richie. Grandma, that is a little bird fairy baby I sent to him. She might like him and want to be his. I don’t think he has found anything in Hades, and this kid looks nice. Friendly and so.”

“What? But I just sent Rosendo to him!”

“Who is… Rosendo?”

“My hairdresser spotted this parentless little boy fairy. He can turn into a pink flying squirrel. Not my hairdresser, the pink child I came to an agreement with.”

“I’m seeing him,” I said.”I can see all this because I can know everything Beau does if I want to, and I can know everything he knows.”

“Ah. It’s the same with your Grandpa and me. But to spite me, he rarely does anything interesting. That’s why he plays so much golf. And chess.  To bore me to death, so I won’t  be watching him. So two kids are now sizing up Richie? Darling, we have to interfere. We can’t let them get away.”

 And Grandma and I appeared before Richie and Beau.

“I got here first!” cried Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“You are here too?” Grandma Divina asked her sister.

“You thought I woule be at home twirling my thumbs?”

Yes, she was there. Right behind Uncle Richie.

Uncle Richie stopped humming and the flowers that had grown because of him, autumn flowers, mums and fall daisies and alyssum and petunias and nemesias and last roses and more,  vanished and  it was evergreens that demanded our attention, holly everywhere, bushes of it, and there was mistletoe hanging from the pinetrees.

“Don’t  either of you move!” Grandma Divina yelled at the hummingbird and the squirrel. “Stay put!”

And they did. 

“What have you brought with you from dusty hell,  my madcap nephew?” asked our paternal grandma of our mother’s little brother.

“Nothing, Auntie. No luck! A prophecy spoken to be rid of me. That’s all I got. Hades failed me. ”

“What is in that hamper, Richie?”

“Oh. Leftovers from…lunch? Breakfast? Brunch? What was it Beau?”

“There’s more than that in it,” said Beau. “And in your coat pocket too.”

Beau was beginning to understand what was happening. Likely he was reading my mind.

Uncle Richie glanced at one of his coat pockets and  saw a little blue lizard was peeking out of it. Very gently he drew it out and showed it to us.

“You stay put too!” said Grandma Divina to the lizard. “And whatever is in the basket stays put too!”

And Uncle Richie drew out of the basket the jar filled with water that held the little green seahorse that had settled on his shoe while he was picnicing among the waterlilies in the Acheron.

“Is this possible? Four?” snapped Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“Yes,” said Grandma Divina. “Sister, it’s exactly what it looks like. Which one is your candidate?”

“Esmeraldo,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial, pointing at the seahorse. “I immediately saw he was the best being to be had anywhere near Hades.”

“And who supports the lizard?”

“I have come on my own,” said the lizard softly, “but I can withdraw quietly if I’m not wanted.”

“Of course you are wanted!” cried both my grandmothers at the same time. “All four of you! Are there any more? Is this all there is?”

“I think so,” said Beau, who had been looking around.

“If there is anyone else, now is the time to step forward!” shouted the Lady Celestial. “We’re finding parents for all of you. And now, no more nonsense! Turn into yourselves! ”

And the four little creatures turned into cute tiny tots.

“Oh! Wow!” said Uncle Richie, understanding what was going on. 

“Now, ask these kids one by one if they want you for a father or have been disgusted by you,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“Don’t you call my boy disgusting. He’s feeding the whole island,” said Grandma Divina.

“I do have to ask you one by one,” said Uncle Richie to the kids. “But I want you all. I’m an excessive person. I like to have a lot of everything. I hope you won't break my heart shunning me.”

“I like the way you hum,” spole up the little fairy who could turn into a purple hummingbird. “Me, you don’t even have to ask.”

“This is a bold little girl,” said Madam the Lady Celestial. “Well, that might not be a bad thing.”

“But I do have to ask! To make it formal,” said Uncle Richie to the child. “Would you like to be my daughter? And if so, seeing as you can speak, what is your name?”

“I do want to be your daughter. And my name is Hum,” said the little fairy. “I will be the eldest, because I am a week old, and I don’t think any of the others is this old.”

“Thank you!” said Uncle Richie dropping to his knees and there were tears in his eyes. “I have an eldest daughter!" he cried, choking a little. "Who is next?”

“Me, I think. I’m almost five days old,” said the boy who could turn into a seahorse. “And I want to be your son, and my name is Esmeraldo Greengem, but you can call me just Gem.”

And he and Uncle Richie shook hands on it. And Uncle Richie was crying very visibly, and reached for a handkerchief.

“And do you want to be my child, sweetheart?” he asked the little fairy  girl who could turn into a blue lizard.

“Yes, and I would be so happy to be that. I thought you might not want me, or I would have asked you in Capri myself. I’m not very confident, though I am three days old and look old for my age.”

“This one is a blue fairy. Of the intellectual kind. Like my Gen’s Mabel. You have an aunt who will want to be your godmother, dear,” said Grandma Divina.

“Gen is not yours,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial. “But I don’t think you want to go into that now, do you?”

“Branna is a sort of intellectual too. She is an astronomer,” said Uncle Richie.  “Oh, will she be delighted when she sees all these kids! And she thought we would never have any!”

”Get on with it, Richie!” said Grandma the Lady Celestial. “Snap it up, and ask the littlest one!”

And Uncle Rich asked Rosendo, the flying squirrel baby boy if he would like to be his fourth child and second son, and Rosendo, a plump and smiling little creature, said he did. He was a very happy-go-lucky, barely two days old baby who smiled a lot. 

Part the Second

Dear brother, I send you this letter with a second part, rushing, so it will reach you before your return, so you, who work in information, can do so with a knowledge of things here. Mom’s messenger pigeon, Aldegundus,will carry it to you, for he is quicker than any of mine, and that is why you will find with it a sheet full of kisses from Mom. We are all very happy knowing you will be back, but she is positively exultant. I have never seen her happier.

Our Uncle Richearth’s child-seeking affairs have not ended as I told you. They have become more complicated, though for good, I think. Our uncle had our grandmothers and Beau and I accompany him to his house. He wanted us to be present when he showed Branna what he was bringing home with him. He feared she might faint and insisted he would need help, because he had no idea what to do when someone fainted, except go hysterical and shout for help. But it was Uncle Richie who fainted, not Branna, when he saw how happy she was, smothering her children with hugs and kisses and he suddenly hollered, “I’ve given my wife everything anyone needs!” and fell to the floor in a faint, like the man who had made the effort of running the first marathon. But unlike this man, he couldn't die, so he didn't. And Beau had to revive him and hoist him up while Grandma The Lady Celestial scolded, “Stop it, Richearth! Stop acting up! You are not to steal the stage every second!” And Beau thought it would be best to take him outside, to the garden, so he could breathe fresh air. And Beau did that.

Well, the case is that what Branna did was quite the opposite of fainting. She became hyperactive and began to make her home’s nursery larger, throwing down walls with a mallet and speaking frantically of adding closets and painting the walls with her kids’ favorite colours, pink, blue, violet and green. Our grandmas called Uncle Gen, and he arrived immediately with a team of workers and Branna relaxed a little and left things in their hands, and Grandma Divina also called Alys Possun, the great painter and occasional interior decorator, who filled the nursery with murals and trompe-l’oeils. I hope I got that last word right. Each wall celebrated one of the four elements, and our grandmas began to sing an old song I hadn’t heard since I was a baby myself.

Fire, water, air and earth

Are my elements since birth.

Fire in my heart throbs,

Fire in my hair glows,

Water through my veins flows,

And in my eyes it doth repose.

My voice is air and in air flies,

Speaks, laughs, sighs and replies.

Earth dwelleth in my bones,

Browns my skin to golden tones.

Now, watch me leap and twirl and prance,

All four caught up in life´s dance.

They got me to sing with them, and Hum joined us humming and thus singing, we turned the only crib there was in the nursery into four, each with its peculiarities, Hum’s being a lovely nest of purple morning glories that would open when she woke and shut when she fell asleep, Gem’s a shell-shaped bed with a sea-water mattress, Azuline’s a lovely light blue porcelain crib with a forest of delicate bluebells painted on it, and Rosendo´s a bronze bed with a splendid sun and its long rays, which would have been the envy of Louis the XIVth.

And when the nursery was ready and we were all congratulating ourselves on the great work we had done – my final touch was to add gold and silver guardian fairy medals to the cribs – well, they called our uncle Richearth shouting out the windows, so he would come in and see it all. And through the door of the children’s suite entered, as if a curtain had been raised, the three Eumenides, leaving us speechless, which made them happy, and behind them, Uncle Wildgale and Mathilde, and their two girls and three dragons. And there was more, because behind those who had come in came  Atty and Catsheba and the Atshebies and Pedubastis, their guardian fairy.

“What is the meaning of this?” Grandmother Madam The Lady Celestial demanded, while Grandma Divina waved and cried out “Helloooooooooo!”

And for an answer to his aunt's question, Uncle Richearth entered the room last, with a lovely though disturbingly transparent baby in each arm and said, with a frightened face but a resolute voice, “These are Crown of Roses and Goldenstar, and yes, I fear they are dead. But I am keeping them anyway. Any way!”

“Yes!” cried Branna, “Yes, we are!” And she rushed for the babies as if someone might snatch them from her.

“Don’t call them dead! They are little ghosts, but spirits like us, after all,” protested Grandma Divina, while Madam Grandma the Lady Celestial shook her head and muttered, “We do exaggerate, don’t we, Richie? Never enough.”

And Uncle Wildgale said, “Since Branna was always asking us to give her one of our daughters, and begging Atty to cede her a couple of his kids, and since neither he nor I would ever do that, well, we began to feel like we were being stalked by her. And so he and I went to see the matrons and Atty threatened, though a little late and untimely, to sue them for having let Jocosa order kids for him if they didn’t solve his brother’s problem once and for all. While he was doing that, the Eumenides appeared in Lucina’s office, and said they had already emitted judgement on this particular case and that they had ruled in Richie’s favor. They informed us and all those present that they themselves had taken the trouble to find suitable children for him. They had recalled another case they had been consulted about. There were in Hades two babies that had become estranged from their parents, mortal tourists who one night, just like many others, and being in their yacht, had exceded themselves in their devotion to Dionysus and failed to notice that their three year old twins’ baby carriage was floating off in the direction of Anthemoessa. The sea goddess Ran wanted to claim these children, on the grounds of their parents’ nationalities. But the kids had entered into the territorial waters of the Anthemoessian Sirens, and had been claimed by them when they reached shore. The Eumenides had advised the  Sirens to give Ran a bag of gold coins, for she was famously avaricious, and recommended the goddess to take this and forget to press further for the tots. The sisters decided this under the conviction that Hades was a better place than Ran’s underwater dungeons. Ran had mumbled something about this being a hometown decision, but took the bag and left.

“We know you are fairies and these twins the ghosts of mortal kids, but we found this merry young man so uncharacteristically depressed, and taking into account that his wife was once a vampire, we thought giving him these children would not be a mistake. After all, a boy who resembles a golden star is not an inadequate child for an astronomer, and a girl who loves roses, queens among flowers, could be right for a planter. You are not going to be afraid of these poor creatures, are you, fairy people?”

And Alys Possun, as temperamental as usual, frowned and began to rant, “They’ve ruined my masterpiece! I’ll have to start from zero!”

But Madam Grandmother the Lady Celestial said that the ceiling was a little bare and that maybe he could do something there.

“For the Estrellito, okay. But what about Miss Roses? Shall I make her share the earth with Azuline? No, I don’t think so,” said Mr. Possun, who firmly believed roses were no company for bluebells because they did not look good together.

“I don’t mind at all!” Azuline offered immediately.

“Hush, child! It’s foolish to cede territory,” said Grandma the Lady Celestial.

“There’s no need for sacrifice, dear. Mr. Possun is very clever, he’ll come up with something. Can't you see that he is a genius, Azuline?” Grandma Divina told the little blue fairy.

And encouraged by Grandma Divina’s words of praise and inspired by the suggestions of Grandmother the Lady Celestial, Alys began to paint stars in the center of the ceiling that shone like lamps of gold, because that is what they were, and he created planets overgrown with red roses and others with rings of yellow roses. And Uncle Gen hanged two elaborately wrought silver and gold cribs up there and at first we feared they would look like those plants some people hang from ceilings but, though I know it sounds strange, the whole scheme worked and resulted very interesting.

“It looks like more is more,” said Uncle Gen.

“I hope you won’t take to howling here nights and keep everyone from shutting an eye,” Madam Grandmother the Lady Celestial warned the baby twins.

“What is howl?” innocently asked the poor little ghosts, fresh out of the sepulchrally silent fields of asphodels.

“Allow them to remain in their ignorance, Mother,” advised Uncle Gen.

But Uncle Richie said his kids could howl all they wanted to, and began to howl himself. But there was no need to make the nursery soundproof, because the twins were more interested in getting to know their brothers and sisters and cousins than in molesting anyone or paying any attention to their weird father.

And soon I will be able to wish you a Merry Christmas in person, Arley.

289 - Part Two

289: Part the Second of the Eleventh Moonly Letter to be written by Heather to her brother Arley during the rising of the black moon, properly visible against a white as a blank sheet of paper cloud. 

Dear Arley,

I had to interrupt my letter writing to bake Little Mauel’s moonly birthday cake. More about that later. Now I continue where I left of.

Katafalkos, for that was the name of the demon with the computer, was finally persuaded by Charon to authorize Uncle Richie and Beau’s entry into Hades. And they boarded the smallest motorboat I have ever seen and Charon drove them to the other bank of the Acheron.

“Am I really as annoying as lead is heavy?” Uncle Rich asked Charon.

“Yes,” said Charon.

“I know I’m intense, but heavy as lead…well…I don’t think I’m that annoying. Only persistent. I admit I know how to insist. But when you want something that is what you have to do. And constance is a virtue, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. And so you are here to see the queen? Or one or two or more of the other ladies?”

“Actually, I’m here to ask a question I need to ask but would rather not ask just anyone. Is it safe to speak here? We haven’t reached the other bank yet.”

“It will be less safe there. There’s nobody here to listen to anything,” said Charon. “This isn’t what it used to be.”

“That I can see,” said Uncle Richie. “It’s kind of empty here, isn’t it? Deserted. Not the usual bustle. How can this place have changed so much in not even a couple of hundred years?”

“Don’t even ask,” frowned Charon, waving with disgust at the controls of the motorboat and spitting angrily into the water though it had looked as if he would have spat at the wheel. The river god Acheron sent what Charon had spat back at him. He dodged, but the wheel got wet. Charon obviously did not want to comment on the changes in Hades and he stopped the motorboat in the middle of the river and  there he added, referring to the question Uncle Richie had said he had come to ask, “Well, ask!”

 Covering his mouth with his hand, though I don't know why, because it was obvious Acheron could be hearing, Uncle Rich murmurred, “Do you happen to know how Hades, who is supposed to be sterile as Death, got to be the father of the princess of darkness Melinoe?”

“No,” said Charon. “I’ve always been too busy to indulge in idle gossip. But Ascalaphos might know. He gets around more than I do. We can land right by his orchard.”

And hearing himself named, Ascalaphus showed his round face, his great owl-like eyes with their bushy eyebrows peeking through some heavily loaded pomegranate trees, their fruit still green, and an orange flower or two still attached to the trees and adorning them. He waved a hand at his visitors in welcome, and the motorboat hopped onto land and went straight towards him and landed right before  the pomegranate trees.

“Want some cherries? These are wonderfully ripe,” said the orchardist. And he pushed a bowl through the boughs of the pomegranate trees, full of lucious two-headed cherries it was.

“No, thank you,” said Beau quickly. “They do look quite tempting, though. But I have someone waiting for me at home. I can’t stay here forever.”

“You know, I’ve seen those cherries with the two little heads somewhere. ¡Ah, yes! At the garden of the Demon Bride. Aislene, yes,” said Uncle Richie.

“Ah, demonic Aislene! We gave her husband some trees years ago. To thank him for bringing over Greek souls who had lost their way and ended up in Fiddler’s Green.”

“I’ve never tasted those cherries of hers, though. They are talking cherries, and I don’t eat anything that talks to me.”

“They are silent here. And faceless. See for yourself.”

“Will they come to life if I take some home with me? I am  asking out of curiosity. Not that I want any. I’m sure my wife would have asked her mum for some cuttings from the trees back at Aislene’s orchard if she had wanted something of this kind in ours.”

“I don’t know why they came to life at Aislene’s. I guess that woman can raise the dead. Here, they are just plain fruit. Magical they are though. Pick as many as I pick, there’s the same amount again hanging from the trees the next day. And I would swear they are the same cherries that got eaten the day before. So it is with ghost cherries. With all the fruit here. Ah, they won’t hold it against you if you eat them, since they can return.”

“How can anything grow here at all?” Beau asked. “Isn’t everything supposed to be utterly dead?”

Ascalaphos nodded.

“Yes, but my orchard is an exception. I water what grows in it with rain water only. This is the only spot where it rains in Hades, aside from the Islands of the Blessed, where now and again there are spring showers. The Nephelai send their cloudy pitchers down my father’s river by boat, and these I pour or trickle over what I grow, accordring to demand.”

Uncle Richie did not say so, but he was tempted in his thoughts to sing in the orchard  and see what would come of it, but he was prudent and refrained from interfering in the affairs of the orchardist.

“You, who may be the only being here who knows of life, would you know how the Lady Melinoe came to be the daughter of the Lord of Lead? Was it something they ate, the royal couple? Something like the lettuce Hera ate at Apollo’s table and that made her pregnant with charming Hebe?”

Ascalaphos was silent for a moment, as if thinking. “I wish I could say it was,” he then said, shaking his head. “I know Macaria was adopted when she was already a young woman. She was a mortal, one of Hercules’ children. She offered her life to Hades and Persephone so they would help her siblings prevail over the vengeful Eurystheus. They accepted her and consider her their daughter. They married her to Thanatos, the tall god of Death. And Zagreus…rumors are he is really Zeus’ child by his own daughter. Understandably, his wife, Hera was outraged. Semele tried to pretend he was her child to avoid a larger scandal. That lady got all burnt up for it, you know, cinders in a second and then her soul came down here. Thyone the Ardent they now call her. She used to be white as snow and now she is black as pitch, but her son made her the goddess of white wine. Zagreus is Dionysus, you know.”

Beau and Uncle Richie nodded.

“But Melinoe…I have no idea how she came to be Hades’ daughter. If she is.”

“Is it true she wanders out of Hades every night and haunts the mortal world?

“Ah, yes. A quiet lady who keeps pretty much to herself during the day. But she walks her dogs every night. Hounds of hell they are, and when they bark out in the mortal world all the mortal dogs answer barking in terror and startling  the hearts of their owners, sometimes fatally, in the black nights. She leads a company of ghosts, you know. They walk out of here with her, and disperse out there and go each about his or her own unfinished business above, and when the princess is ready to return home, they must return too. They meet at the gate and enter together, a gloomy band. Usually, more ghosts enter than went out, for these shades have frightened some unlucky mortal or another to death and they bring him –or them- here with them.”

“Would your mother know more about the Mistress of Ghosts?”

“Could be. Women are more prone to know stuff like this. She’s at Styx’s cave,” said Ascalaphos. And all four marched off to the silver pillared cave of Shuddering Styx of the cold black water.

Uncle Rich questioned Orphne, who was Ascalaphos’ mother and the wife of the river god Acheron, and who said she was surprised that she didn’t know about Melinoe’s birth, because she knew about everything that happened in Hades and how could she not even have noticed that she didn’t know about this. “How could it have escaped me?” she asked the river goddess Styx. 

Now Styx has as foul a mouth as she has a temper and was about to curse Uncle Richie for asking absurd questions he had no business asking, and make him swear by her water that he would cease asking, but was mercifully stopped from doing so by the Eumenides, who also happened to be at Styx’s cave.

The Eumenides used to be three really mean ladies called the Furies, who never rested until they had given people who had committed crimes their comeuppance. But the goddess Athena had reasoned with them, and though they were still quite relentless, they since tried to be just.

Well, there they were sitting on very high silver chairs, dressed in the short tunics huntresses wear,  with their pet snakes writhing and twitching in their hair and clinging to their bare arms and legs. They fixed their eyes on Uncle Richie and studied him from head to toe, very intentionally.  “Why are you asking?” they demanded of him, for they wanted to hear him out before judging him.  And when he explained that he couldn’t have children and why, leaving out no detail, they said, “Serves you right. But still, we´re a little sorry for you, because you are a warm, friendly fellow and it’s not your fault you are a frivolous person. You were made that way. And there are so many unworthy people who have kids they don’t deserve and that they are mean to, that we don’t see why you shouldn’t have one to spoil yourself.”

And then they shook the serpents on their arms and legs and in their hair and the serpents hissed, “Why doesn’t he consult the seers? They know everything, don’t they?” And so the Eumenides summoned Tiresias,  the ambiguous seer who was sometimes a man and other times a woman and he didn’t answer Uncle Richearth’s question, but he did make a prophecy. “Go back home,” he said. “You are closer to having children than you think. You’ve done enough asking. You’ll get your answer at evenfall.”

And Uncle Richie, who, like Charon said, can be as persistent as lead is heavy, wanted to know more, but Tiresias would just yell, “Demetrius, go home!”

And then more seers appeared, because seers are very competitive and when one has something to say another doesn’t want to be less,  and, one of these seers was Tiresias’ infallible grandson,  Mopsus, of as sure as Mopsus fame,  and the other was Calchas, who had been in Troy, counselling the Greek army, and they agreed Uncle Richearth should leave Hades, and Manto, who is Tiresias’ daughter, though I am not sure if Tiresias is her mom or her dad, but I don't think it matters because what does is that she inherited his foresight, patted Uncle Rich on the back and led him to Charon’s motorboat, assuring him that everything was already working out for him.

“Evenfall! Evenfall!” all four oracles chanted over and over like a dismal Greek chorus as the querents sailed off. 

 “Evenfall,” said Uncle Richie to Beau, once they were out of Hades. “Let’s stop by my brother Even’s before we go home. Maybe Catgliostro will be able to tell us more than the other prophets have. I feel impatient.” 

And they were west, because Hades is west, but they headed for the nearly west, which is where Uncle Even lives. On the road, Uncle Rich suddenly felt the urge to hum a little, for he hadn’t sung a note in Hades, and he never goes long without being musical. 

As they walked, Richearth began humming a sweet little melody, and as he hummed, all sorts of flowers grew where he stepped and round him, and then a little purple hummingbird that appeared fluttering among the blossoms began to hum too, in the way they do.

“How curious! I didn’t know there were purple hummingbirds,” said Beau.

“Did you know there are pink flying squirrels?” asked Uncle Rich, "Because one has landed on that oak tree."

“No!” said Beau. “Curiouser and curiouser!”

And strolling among flowers and their perfumes they got to the ruins of Uncle Evenfall’s home, ruins that were immediately overgrown with wild flowers, and with the ghosts of roses that had flowered there before the house was burnt, all in splendid bloom again because of Uncle Richearth’s voice.  And the cats that lived there, that infested the place, well, though most were deaf, could hear Uncle Rich hum and began to meow to tune as they sniffed the flowers and rolled on the grass as if enchanted by catnip. And Beau and our flowery uncle entered our crepuscular uncle’s ghost of  a house as the sun went down. And Uncle Evenfall and purple and green striped Catgliostro were about to have high tea, and asked their guests to share it with them.

But before Beau and Uncle Rich could breathe a word about his concern, a dreadful, frightful meowing began, first outside among the ruins and then inside the ghost of the house. And all the cats in sight pinned their ears back and arched their backs and crouched or hid with their hair on end. All save Catgliostro, who didn’t look too happy but stood his ground. And Uncle Evenfall got up to see what was happening and through the door of his house, before he could get to it, in slipped Melinoe, the black and white goddess, with a pack of small, sepulchrally silent ghost doggies of different breeds at her heels. And some disturbing shades behind her that no one could be sure were really there, or just the effect of suggestion. 

“Hi!” said the goddess of ghosts timidly, but her little dogs only wagged their tails in greeting. “My little dogs are tame and won’t harm anyone. And they never make a sound. Your cats are insane.”

“Catgliostro, tell the cats it’s okay,” said Uncle Evenfall to the great cat. And Catgliostro, the only cat not to have been frightened, though very alert all the while, somehow must have, for the kitties were all silent, though they remained where they were.

“My gran said I should come to see you,” said Melinoe to Uncle Richearth. “And tell you how I came to be born, and why nobody knows much about it.”

 This lady seemed to be there, and not to be there, at the same time, just like the shades. And she seemed to be now a shade and now a reality, and now black and now white. But what struck one the most was how shy she was. Her right hand nervously curled the jet black hair on the right side of her head while her left hand was as still as death and the white hair on the left of her head as straight as the lid of a white coffin.

“Please sit down, dear,” said Uncle Evenfall, “and have high tea with us.”   

Melinoe was pleased to. Once everyone was seated and enjoying high tea, Melinoe told the story she had come to tell us.

“My mom was painting the colours on the flowers when she was abducted. That was the job my gran had assigned to her. She was painting some that were high up over her head. She was so shocked when she saw my father coming for her like a fiend that she opened her mouth to scream but couldn’t. And when he grabbed her, the palette dropped from her hand and the white and black clumps of paint on it fell into her mouth. The rest ofthe colours were spilt on the ground. And that is why I look like a checkerboard, I suppose. Months later, Mom was back at my gran’s, where she gave birth to me. I was a child conceived in fear, and I had all my mom’s fear in me. It all came out of her with me, and she was free of it, but I couldn’t get rid of it. My grandma would have kept me to bring me up, but I cried too much to be anywhere cheerful. Mom had to take me to Hades,  where she felt I would fit in better, and not stand out too much. All bundled up she took me, because I was scared stiff and didn’t want anyone to see me. Dear Aunt Hecate, who is prime minister of Hades, and who does all she can to help and protect Mom, whom she loves as a daughter, decided to help her deal with me too. I wouldn’t leave Mom´s rooms for the world, and I wouldn’t eat a thing. I just hid in a closet in Mom´s dressing-room for hours on end. What Aunt Hecate did to draw me out was bring some of her puppies to me. You know she loves dogs.  The first she brought to me was Queen Hecuba, who as you know, is now a hound, for that is the shape she takes since she saw Troy destroyed and lost her mind. And she was so gentle and so sweet to me, that I got used to her nudging me. And then they brought me my first puppy. At first I was scared of this first ghost puppy, and jumped every time he yelped. But I accepted him, and then a second one more easily. And then a third. Finally, Aunt Hecate persuaded me to take them for a walk in the gardens. And I was able to. I progressed, and so did my love for dogs. These little ones I have here with me I walk at evenfall through the gardens of my father’s palace. At midnight, I am brave enough to walk the hounds of hell in the mortal world. Not Cerberus. He never leaves his post. But I’m sure you’ve heard of my wild pack. And now I frighten everyone instead of being frightened by everyone myself.” 

"I don't think you are frightening at all," said Uncle Richearth. "I think you are probably the most distinguished woman I've ever set eyes on. And I've seen a few."

And Uncle Evenfall jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow and said to Melinoe, "This man is taken, but I am available. And I'm a twilight creature myself."   

And Melinoe smiled a little smile.

Do you know what a black and white is? ´Tis coffee with white cream ice cream. And I thought it would be adequate for this month, if you like coffee. 

All you need is ground coffee, sugar, white cream ice cream, and some lemon rinds. 

Make some coffee. It mustn't be too watery. And now make some syrup, mixing a little water, some sugar and a little lemon in a pan and bringing this to a boil.

Now you must remove the lemon rinds from the syrup and add the syrup to the coffee.  

Now stick the coffee you have mixed with the syrup in the fridge's freezer, and leave it there a while but don't forget it because you have to stir the mixture every half hour or so till it becomes a sort of slushy.

When it looks ready, bring it out of the freezer and pour it into a cup. Leave space for a scoop of white cream ice cream that you must next add to the cup. 

That's it. 

Love, love, love, Heather.

P.D. Little Mauel's birthday cake was a white velvet cake, made with buttermilk and a touch of vinegar. He loved this one too.

289 - Part the First

289. Part the First of the Eleventh Moonly Letter, to be written by Heather to her brother Arley during the utterly black moon which is about  preparing a  katabasis, which is an old Greek way of saying a descent, in this case into Hades.

Dear Arley,

I hope this letter finds you well, and disposed to read a rather long one. As you know, the Peek Creek in my garden has made it possible for me to be forever sharing Beau's life. And that is what I have been doing, for he and Uncle Richearth have been making me rather nervous.

“Give me a few minutes to study how we should make our descent into hell,” Beaurenard said to Uncle Richie. “When one descends to dangerous places one must descend prepared for whatever might happen.”

Beau had surrounded himself with books on classical mythology, among them the little green book decorated with golden apples, plump and winged with wings of blue. I'm sure you remember that lovely book!

“No! No need!” responded Uncle Richearth. “Hell is a come-as-you-are experience. Those who go there go just as they were caught by death, because they have no choice. If not, who would go there? Or anywhere, looking awful? Can’t you see that once you are there anything can happen?”

“No, I don’t think so,” argued Beau. “If anything could happen there, all those people who don’t want to be there could flee from that site. And none of them break out of there, so not just anything can happen. Well, I read here that some people do make it out of there. Ascending with crowns of green and white poplar leaves on their heads. But that is a regulated exodus, planned and controlled like almost everything that happens in Hades. They seem to be quite organized. Perhaps we won’t have time to make pondered decisions, but at least we can make informed ones.”

Beau was consulting those books on classic mythology very attentively. He didn’t want to risk making mistakes in a place like Hades. He felt he would have to be very diplomatic, even if he disliked the place, and respect the customs and rules and uses of those people as much as they might repulse him.

“The folks with the poplar in their hair are revenants, or reborns, whatever. You have to die first to be one of those, and we can’t do that. Are you thinking of consulting the Eleusinians? They are the ones that know how to triumph down there. But those guys don’t share their secrets. They have been as tight as clams about them for thousands of years. They won’t open up for you. They didn’t even for me, and I am Demeter’s very own godson, who used to crash their mysterious bashes to have good fun there. I never did join the sect though. It would have killed my daddy if I had. I vex and annoy him now and again, but I never go too far. It wouldn’t be considerate of me, would it?”

“You are Demeter’s godson?”

 “That’s why one of my names is Demetrius. No, my little friend, no. There is no way to be prepared for hell. Anything can happen there.”

“But there are things we know, for example, one mustn’t eat anything there.”

“From there. But who is to stop us from lugging a picnic hamper? With champagne and caviar and fairy bread of the kind that is always freshly toasted. You know those ridiculous people who travel to New York with a huge salami sausage and potato omelettes in their suitcases in case they hate the food in the Big Apple?  Well, actually, that is the way one should go to hell. Have you read in those books that this can’t be done? No, you haven’t. Because it can. I’m glad you brought food up because the sirens invited us to breakfast, a grand seafood fest it was too, but by noon we might get peckish. So we had better provide ourselves with victuals.”

“On a picnic to hell. Tea among the asphodels. What ideas you have, Dimmy! No, I haven’t read or heard anywhere that it is forbidden to take food there, but I suspect it is, because I know one has to board the barge stark naked, leaving everything behind. Me, I am going to fly over the river. What is clear we have to take with us is a map. We desperately need to identify Mnemosyne’s lake and be able to tell it from the other bodies of water there. If we have to drink something, it had better be from this lake. It is the only potable water available and the only thing it  might make us is omniscient. You see, there is a river of tears and probably snot and another river of spit and curses.”

“And a third of fiery water. And I don’t mean whiskey,” nodded our uncle.

“Those waters are dangerous even for the dead. We could not only die of disgust, we could catch something fay healers have never heard of. Nor do we want to lose our memories because of the waters of Lethe. We would wander all over that place forever, asking ourselves what the hell we are doing there.”

“Even if you couldn’t find the exit, surely you would find something to do rather than roam about aimlessly. You are always up to something. I would kill time flirting with the ladies. You know, there are some very interesting women down there. Why, I even once toyed with Helen of Troy, but her husband spirited her off to the Isles of the Blessed before she could elope with me and trigger another war. She was exactly as gorgeous as they say. And so friendly!”

“I don’t want to toy with anyone. I am like Odysseus. I’m very happy with the girl I have back home,” said Beau.

“Why, so am I!” our uncle assured Beau. “Delighted! But I wouldn’t be home, would I? And if I had to spend time roving memoryless in hell, I would have to do something to make this bearable. Look, there are these ladies who are in charge of the lighting. Torchbearing nymphs. Lampades they are called. And they are quite sociable. If they like you, they might lead you to Elysium. Over there, one is almost as happy as we are back home. And what do you know? Maybe I would find Helen.”

“Friendly they might seem to you,” said Beau, “who never know who you are really dealing with. According to these books what there is down there is vampires.”

“Not the lampades, no! I don’t know why people always associate available women with bloodsuckers! The vampires down there are the lamias. Affairs with lamias always turn out sadly, that I will admit. But if you like redheads, there are the empusai. Their hair is always in flames. But it is trick fire that doesn’t burn one. Just for show it is. They are really evil spirits, but ridiculously silly ones. They appear before men looking like lovely hetairai. What makes them special is that one of their legs is like a goat’s, while the other is made of metal. They are very sensitive about this, so don’t mention it to them, or they will break into boisterous tears. I have never offended them, but I have seen it happen. Sorry spectacle, that. Ah, and there are also mormos, bogey women who frighten bad little boys, if that is your thing.”

 “NO!” hollered Beau. “I see you do know the place. You’ve been there before. You've made that clear and I shall have to trust you to guide me. But no gallant adventures, no!”

“Oh, there was a time when I would flit  in and out of there like the proverbial fellow who shares your last name. At first they used to confuse me with Orpheus. `What?´ they would say, `Here again to visit Eurydice?´ I’ve never flirted with Eurydice. I respect Orpheus. Well, rather it is Eurydice who respects her husband, but, one way or another, Orpheus is respected.”

“You are making me more nervous than I already am with all this chatter,” said Beau. “What matters is how to get out of there.”

“Look, one thing there is none of down there is music. In any hell, music is verbotten. Even in mortal hells, that is how it is. You see a country that has forbidden music? Well that country is a hell on earth. You can bet your neck on that. Don’t you know music civilizes? And they don’t want any of that in hells. Only yells and lamentations. And in Hades there is nothing to drown these out with.  So when I want to leave Hades, I start to sing. And they kick me out ipso facto.”

“That easy? Don’t musicians go to hell?”

“Some do. But they stop being musicians as soon as they drink the waters of Lethe and forget their do-re-mis.”

“And no one has ever tried to force you to drink that blasted water?”

“No. What happens is that when I sing, the world stops. Everyone is fascinated. Many sob in silence, but moved, not from pain or sorrow. What I do is something similar to what filibusters do in parliaments. Whereas they speak and speak and no one can interrupt them till they go hoarse and faint, I sing and sing till I’m out of there and no one can silence me.”

“But surely you have to shut up at some point, and…”

“I sing my way to the exit, dancing and tripping and fluttering to the door. And I step out quite calmly, with one delicate pirouette,  because the gate opens for me when it hears my voice.”

“And no one else takes the opportunity to rush out?”

“There must be nobody deaf there, because no one does. I’m telling you, they remain like paralyzed.”

“Does that mean I will be able to step out too or will I become frozen like everyone else?”

“You are fay, Beau, not a stiff, nor a citizen of the underworld of any kind. You aren’t  ignorant of the power of music, like many a savage beast.You will fly out of there next to me. Besides, they eventually pacted with me to let me in and out of there whenever I please as long as I do it quietly. That is a deal we made. Nothing will hold you back in there while you are by my side, Beau!”

“I don’t know. I find it difficult to believe nothing bad will happen to me if I go to Hades.”

“Stop worrying already and trust me, will you? You’re with a man who always wins!”

“Okay. Let the katabasis begin,” said Beau. And he turned himself  into an enormous wolf.

“What the…hell? Beaurenard, is that you?” asked our astonished uncle, who couldn’t understand what had happened.

“Of course it is! As if I would go to a place like Hades lacking a disguise. I have a reputation to defend! Besides, there is a three-headed dog that is the doorman there, and not all dogs take kindly to me. I’m a fox fairy, and if that dog notices this, there could be trouble. He’s said to have mean fleas.”

“There is no way I am letting you come with me looking like Fenrir about to end the world! For heaven’s sake, it is me you are frightening!”

“Good. Because I haven’t even blinked yet.”

“Pretend to be Michael Jackson instead! We could sing a duet.”

“Jackson was very scandalous. Better Elvis. There are so many Elvises popping about that I might go unnoticed.”

“It won’t matter either way because nobody there will remember either bloke. All inmates deprived of  memory, you know.”

And that is how our Uncle Richearth and Beaurenard set off for Hades, where what they found had nothing to do with what they expected.

First, Uncle Richie took Beau to Epirus, on the northwestern side of Greece, and from there to the village of Mesopotamos, to the Necromanteion of Acheron. In the ghost of this temple and oracle of the dead there is a subterranean chamber of silence, and in it, a passage to the underworld. In this chamber, no sound can be heard that is made by those within, and our uncle had to lead Richie with gestures and by the arm, to a secret door to a tunnel through which they descended to a wetland covered with waterlilies.

“We are next to one bank of the river Acheron,” said Uncle Richearth as soon as he could speak, “a river that passes through dark gorges and goes underground in certain spots, like this one. And on the other bank is the Underworld. But I think that before we call the ferryman, we should have a taste of the lunch we bring with us. Look, there is a bench of stone among the waterlilies. Whitely it peeps, mutely beckoning us.”

“There is very little light here. I don’t know how these flowers can grow here.”

“We can see, even if dimly, because here is where the last light that penetrates the path to Hades stops advancing. Further, the lighting depends on torches.”

But that was the last of what our uncle knew about Hades, because as I have mentioned before, things had changed there.

Richie and Beau waded to the stone bench, of alabaster it seemed to be to me as I watched them, and they sat there and drank chamvá, which is what the bubbly Uncle Rich’s vineyards and winecellars produce is called, and which everyone finds superior to any cava or champagne in both the mortal and fay worlds. It went a bit to my head, but since it is top quality, it didn't fuddle me. They also munched on toast with fresh, melting butter and caviar of  the kind the fay sturgeons sell themselves, and on assorted gourmet sandwiches and tons of fruit that had been watered with the purest, clearest water.

“Let’s not leave any debris behind,” said Beau, and he made what there was of that disappear, save for a glass jar that had held faux tuna fish in Pedro Ximénez, because our uncle had been accosted by a tiny, emerald sea horse that had settled on one of his soaking wet shoes and would not be persuaded to move away. So Uncle Richie washed the jar and when it was clean, he put the seahorse in it, promising to take it to his aquarium in Apple Island. Since the jar was magical, the water in it never fell out, even if one failed to cover it with a lid. So Richie put that in the hamper, next to all the fruit and sandwiches that had been left over. And I don’t want to make a spoiler, but I know you will worry about the seahorse, so I will reassure you getting ahead and telling you that it was not left behind in Hades.

When they were done eating, Uncle Richie glanced at his platinum pocket watch and said, “I don’t know what is happening here. Where the devil is the ferryman? We’ve been here a while and there’s no trace of him. Or the ferry. And it is quite large. One can’t easily miss it.”

The clock struck two p.m. and suddenly a spotlight lit up and focused on a demon that looked disturbingly like Mr. Binky when he had dressed himself as an infernal civil servant for one of Michael’s Halloween parties. This was not the usual demon Hades was famous for though. He had the horns, but strangely, he also wore glasses and had a necktie hanging down his bare chest. The demon was sitting behind a large desk on  which there was a portable computer.

“Excuse me,” said Beau to the fellow with the computer. “Are you an agathodaemon or a kakodaimon? Or perhaps not one at all?”

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the demon.

“Bad,” whispered Beau to our uncle. “That is what he is. He needn’t say more.”

“Hey, you! Where is Charon?” Uncle Richearth asked the demon.

“Are you here to see him?”

“We expected to. He’s always hanging about somewhere here.”

“Workers have a right to a vacation.”

“He is a worker? But he loved to do this. Or that was what he was destined for. He was the bargeman. He has another life?”

“Not because he wants to. But we have forced him to have one. He can’t be here perpetually, working as if he is on a Japanese strike. It would make us look bad.”

“Oh, for the love of Rhiannon!” exclaimed Beau softly. “I fear we are in totally unknown whereabouts. And I trying to prepare our trip! How deluded I was!” And to the demon he said, “Who is boss here? Has the god Hades suffered a coup?”

“That fellow has to do whatever the citizens ask him to do. No more doing as he pleases. Greece invented democracy. Let this be evident!”

“This has got to be a joke,” Beau whispered to our uncle. “Maybe by the Jocose Gang, in revenge for the Kittykids’ party. Are you sure this was the right entrance?”

“Totally,” answered Uncle Richie. And he said to the fellow with the computer, “Listen, is music still forbidden here?”

“Of course it is. Only dirges. Shouts and laments are also permitted, as long as they don’t malign the regime. Chorales of hired mourners, well we even have contests. Our regime loves contests.”

“The regime is a devil-may-care republic?” asked Beau.

“Abstain from insults,” said the demon. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to see some old friends,” said Uncle Richearth. “I haven’t seen them since Offenbach composed Orpheus in the Underworld. Back then, I came to teach the nymphs to dance the Infernal Galop, that is, the can can. It was a dance I thought they should know how to do. A long time ago that was. It’s about time I dropped by to say hi, don’t you think?”

“We had better get to filling in some forms,” said the demon, “because I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“And why not? We’re all speaking in ancient Greek, aren’t we? And my ancient Greek is impeccable. We should be able to communicate.”

“Are you Asians or Europeans?”

“What could that possibly matter?” asked Uncle Richearth. “Who cares what a dead guy’s origin is? That is what comes here, isn’t it? Dead people. Of all sorts. Have you become racists now or what?”

“I suspect it might be because of the judges,” intervened Beau. “I’ve read there is this one bloke who judges the Asians and this other bloke who takes charge of the Europeans. Is it because of that? Or not?” Beau asked the demon.

“I’m writing here Europeans,” said the demon, “from this side of the Hellespont.” And he began to hit the keys of the keyboard. “So now, date and hour of death?”

“Painfully early this morning,” said Uncle Richie, “is when we decided to come here, isn’t that so, Beau?” and a little lower he added, “Don’t you say we aren’t dead because this fellow looks inflexible.”   

“Who came to fetch you? Didn’t anyone? Not even Hermes? You gave no notice?”

“Well, we were with the sirens. They told us to come here. Directly. We were supposed to give notice we were going to die? How can one do that? One isn't always aware one is about to croak, is one?”

The demon replied, “Remitted by the sirens. Death by drowning is what I am going to record here, though you don’t look too wet. Only the edges of your trousers are humid. It looks as if you have been eating, but you don’t seem to have been poisoned. Have you been drinking? Teachers shouldn’t. Give a good example.”

“Why would we be teachers?” asked our uncle. “I’m a gentleman farmer and a vocational singer.”

“Yeah, sure. You just said you came here to teach. Which makes sense, because the only people who come here nowadays are teachers, though usually of dead languages. An occasional archaelogist, and certain admirers of the old religions. No dancing here. Only writhing, leaping in pain and fainting.  I’ll write down music teachers. Can you sing a thernody?”

“First thing I learned to sing,” lied Uncle Richie. “You want me to teach people to sing funeral songs? Because I think…”

“The few people that come here today have all heard of Elysium and want to make it there. Yes, it is a shame, but that paradise still exists and only people who were too stupendous in life to be sent to the boring asphodel fields get there. Children of the gods and such. All with good connections. If you do get there, you can sing whatever you please, but that is up to the judges, not me. Alright, state your names and business here.”

“Like I already told you, I am a great friend of my friends and I want to see my friends now,”insisted Uncle Richie. “And my name is Demetrius, and I am a godson of the Queen’s mom. That makes us family. I should have no problems entering this place.”

"Hades is a friendly place. Nobody has problems entering Hades. Everybody is welcome!"

"Are you so amiable that you answer for the problems we may have once inside?" asked Beau.

And then, suddenly and out of nowhere, three dogs fell on Uncle Rich, who slipped backwards, flat onto the floor. And as he yelled “It’s okay! We know each other!” Beau turned into a terrific wolf again but stopped short of taking on the dogs because he saw they were but one, and that its three heads were licking Uncle Richie with unrepressed love, as were the forked tongues of the snakes that adorned those three heads. And his tail, which was one much larger serpent, was wagging very happily.

“It’s so nice of you to remember me, sweetie,” Uncle Richie was saying to the dog.

“But who the hell are you?” shouted the demon, who had risen from his seat in a flash at the sight of the wolf Beau had turned into and taken refuge under the desk.

“These are friends of the queen,” said Charon, appearing behind the dog and helping Uncle Rich get up.

“And yours,” said our uncle. “Tell this fellow to let us in, Charon. I’ll give you all the coins I have on me. That’s a lot. I don’t know why I didn’t start by saying that. Well, yes, I do know. I was cowed by this demon’s computer.”

And Uncle Richie began to sing very softly to Cerberus, "How much is that doggie in the window?" And Cerberus joined him, squirming with delight and howling softly too. 

“Just put a tick in the box  for  the category of heroes, Katafalkos,” said Charon to the demon, pointing at the computer. “This divo will give you more trouble if you don’t let him in than he will if you do. I know him well.”