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 Sryx 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.