Ferryman

My name is Charon and I am a ferryman. Now, you must be wondering which river or harbour do I ferry in, and perhaps you may have travelled on my skiff. Many have come to me, and I have ferried countless men, women, and children. But I will tell you this – not you, not quite yet. If you ever travel to the river Acheron, then it saddens me to welcome you. My name is Charon and I am the ferryman of the dead.

Cerberus, a three-headed dog with teeth so long and sharp it could slice through you like paper, guards the gate to the Underworld, where I live. Don’t let its serpent tail fool you, for it is as deadly as its unforgiving fangs. The dead shudders at the sight of the monstrous dog, but what truly frightens them, and me, are the Furies – Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto. Savage and inexorable, the Furies are the punishers of evildoers. They know all of your secrets, the lies you’ve told, and the things you did that have caused misfortune on others. To incur the wrath of these three winged deities means tormenting madness, illnesses and diseases – all before descending into the cold and shadowy Underworld, where more suffering awaits.

Like I said, I have ferried many. Heroes and villains, kings and beggars, gods and the living. Oh yes, the living as well. Hercules, the great hero of Greece and strongest man on earth; Aeneas, who fled the fallen city of Troy and founded Rome; and Orpheus, who played music so beautifully that even rivers changed their course so they could listen to him. They had all wanted something from the Underworld. And it is Orpheus whom I remember so vividly, and it is his story that still hurts my heart to this day.

Orpheus was the son of one of the Muses (there are nine of them, and while most of their names elude me, I will tell you that they embody the knowledge of history, astronomy, tragedy, comedy, dance, epic poetry, love-poetry, songs to the gods, and lyric poetry). His musical talent was second to none in the mortal world, and some said that it almost equaled the Olympian gods. Trees and animals and people were enchanted by his music, including Eurydice, a wood nymph. Eurydice fell in love with Orpheus and soon they were married. They spent many a day in songs and bliss. But their joy was brief. One day, Eurydice fell into a ditch while evading the pursuit of a minor god. It was most unfortunate that the ditch was home to a snake. Alarmed by the sudden intrusion, the viper sank its venomous fangs into Eurydice and within moments she was dead. Grief-stricken, Orpheus sang with such lament that even nature mourned with him. At last, it was the Muses – no longer able to bear his anguish – who persuaded him to travel to the Underworld and bring his beloved wife back to the living. 

‘Beg Hades to return Eurydice to life,’ they said.

‘But how?’ Orpheus asked, his eyes shining with fresh tears.

‘Enchant them with your music,’ they answered.

And that was when I met the man who braved the land of the dead for love.

I felt a tug at my tunic. An old woman stood before me, her face as grey as her tattered robe. She clasped her hands, her eyes wide with fear.

‘Please, will you take me across?’ she asked.

I stretched out my hand. ‘Well?’ I said.

‘I don’t have the money,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t buried when I died.’

‘Then I cannot take you.’ I scratched my beard.

‘Please, I beg of you. I don’t want to be left behind.’

‘There is nothing I can do. Stand aside.’

The woman clutched the robe to her chest and weeped. She joined a few others, trudging along the river bank, and looked longingly across the black waters. 

Footsteps approached and a young man appeared through the parting mist. I stretched out my hand again, expecting a payment. Just then, I sensed that something was different, and took a closer look at this man. 

‘No! You are human.’ I cried.

‘Take me across the river, will you?’ he asked. He had a youthful look and flowing hair. A golden lyre rested in his hand. What an odd thing to take along with you to the Underworld, I thought.

‘You are human,’ I repeated. ‘No living shall pass this passage. And how did you get past Cerberus?’

‘I sang to it,’ the young man answered.

‘Nonsense! You must turn back to where you came from.’

‘Let me play you a song,’ he pleaded. ‘As payment.’

I waved my pole at him and shook my head. He struck his lyre and began to play a song before I could look away. Music filled the dark, cold space. A few of the wailing souls stopped mid-cry and turned toward the man. It was the most beautiful song I had ever heard. Warmth rose unexpectedly from my chest, and I was under the spell of his voice. I took his hand and brought him onto my skiff. We sailed across the cold waters and docked on the other side.

‘What is your name?’ I asked as we got off the skiff.

‘My name is Orpheus,’ he answered. ‘And I’m looking for my wife, Eurydice.’

A bloodcurdling screech shot through the air. We dropped to our knees. The Furies flapped their sharp wings above us. 

‘How dare the living cross the river of the dead,’ Tisiphone cried.

‘Return now or pay the price,’ Megaera followed.

‘Fire, ice, or a hunger so wild you’d devour your own limbs. Say now and we will oblige,’ said Alecto.

Terrifying howls echoed from a distance. I edged closer to Orpheus. ‘Sing, now.’ 

He looked at me as if I was mad. Then it dawned on him. He began to sing, soft at first, but soon his lovely voice rang in the darkness. The Furies lowered their wings. Orpheus strummed his lyre, and the three deities smiled and nodded. I grabbed his wrist, ran past the Furies and toward the palace’s great hall. 

We climbed up the steps and stumbled through the large doors. Servants and attendants gasped.

‘What is the meaning of this,’ a voice thundered. It was Hades, god of the Underworld. His queen Persephone stood beside him. 

Silence fell.

‘King Hades,’ Orpheus knelt in front of the dark lord. ‘Please let me plead my case. I am here for my wife, Eurydice. My heart could not heal from the loss of her. The trees and mountains mourn with me. My mother, too. Please, I need her back.’

‘Need?’ Persephone said. ‘How dare you use such a word. How many rules did you break coming here?’

‘Rules I’ve broken for my wife, and I’d do it over and over again if I have to.’

‘There are no favours – not for you, not even for the gods,’ Hades said.

‘Let me play you a song, it may change your mind,’ Orpheus said. 

Hades laughed and the hall echoed his laughter. ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ the king said.

Persephone whispered into Hades’s ear. He nodded.

‘I will grant you one song.’ The king turned to his attendant. ‘Bring me Eurydice.’

Orpheus picked up his golden lyre and started to play. He sang a song of longing and sorrow, his voice haunting and beautiful. I saw Eurydice float into the hall. Orpheus caught sight of his wife, and tears filled his eyes as he continued his song. Eurydice weeped while she stood helpless in front of the guard. Persephone, visibly touched by Orpheus's music and the lovers before her, whispered to Hades once more. 

‘Very well,’ Hades said when the song ended. ‘You may take Eurydice back to the living world. She will follow you from here, but will remain ten paces behind. Should you turn around before you get to the upper world, she will be ours.’ 

‘And you cannot return,’ Persephone added.

Overjoyed, Orpheus grabbed Eurydice’s hands and hurried out of the great hall. I guided them to my skiff and rowed them back to the opposite shore. Orpheus did not once turn back to look at Eurydice.

I bade them farewell as they got off the boat. ‘Do not look back, Orpheus.’ I reminded him. 

He nodded and continued to walk. Soon he felt a breeze of fresh air, and there was light ahead. 

‘Are you still there, my love?’ Orpheus asked.

‘Yes, I’m right behind you.’ His wife answered.

The light got brighter and Orpheus, elated and feeling triumphant, broke into a run. He got out of the gate and felt the sunshine warm on his face. Alive!

He turned back.

Horror filled Eurydice’s eyes. She had tried to catch up with Orpheus but he was too fast. She was still in the shadows. Before she could call out to her beloved, darkness had dragged her back in. Only her screams remained. 

If only he had waited a little more.

I tried to get news of Orpheus from the souls arriving in the Underworld. They told me that the son of the Muse fills his days now with sorrow and tears. He still sings, his voice still touches anyone who listens to it. But he never loves again. Or perhaps until the day I see him once more on this very shore, ready to be ferried across and join his one and only love. 

I had seen Eurydice once, sitting on her own by the black river. Her eyes were red and swollen. She sang, her raspy voice treaded lightly into the hollow night.

I love you in songs;

I love you in whispers.

I love you in so many words;

And I love you in none.

I wish we were the aged oak trees;

Our leaves touch and tease.

I wish we were the seasons;

Though ever so briefly they meet, they never will cease.