Page 39 of Orpheus
Things were never the same since that dreadful day. Not a day had gone by where I did not find myself weeping over Eurydalos. The love of my life had perished right before my very eyes. The experience has since left me traumatized and spiraling down a path of demise. There were times since where I contemplated on whether or not I even had the will to live in this world. There were other times where I rationalized that Eurydalos would not want me to take my own life, but to press onward and continue to thrive as the greatest musician known to mankind.
But lately, I had no motivation to play my lyre. All of the heart and emotions I put into my lyrics and my plucking of the strings were absent. I had no source of passion to draw from. It was as if my soul had been completely emptied and I had no power and no skills to elicit.
After Eurydalos’s passing, I could not return home to Thrace. I did not want my family to witness me in this despondent state. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, for that matter.
After spending a few days mourning over Eurydalos in the Vale of Tempe, I ultimately decided on returning to Iolcus. However, I chose not to confide in King Jason and let him know of my presence in his city. Instead, I remained hidden, choosing to stay at an inn for the past few weeks I have been here.
I mostly kept to myself in my room, locked away from the outside world. It was only at nights where I mustered up the courage to leave the confines of my room and come down to the tavern area to join the lively inebriated crowd. Wine became my new best friend. I sometimes found myself drinking nearly three bottles in a given night. There were times where I fell asleep, passed out at my table, my forehead flat down on the sticky surface. The tavernkeeper had to often tap me awake, to demand that I return to my room for the night or leave their establishment.
This evening was turning into one of those nights once again, only this time, I was already on my fifth bottle of wine, my mind completely muddled with incoherent thoughts. The inn was much more crowded than usual, likely because of the ongoing storm outside. An onslaught of angry feelings exploded wildly within me. Seeing the other patrons in the tavern madly laughing and in high-spirits only made me more irritable. All of these people were carrying on without a care in the world, while I had suffered through the most heinous experience none of them had likely ever endured.
In that moment, I wanted them to know my pain, to feel it, to experience it. It was bad enough that I was going through this misery alone. I needed to be recognized. At least slightly acknowledged. I wanted the company.
Courageous and out of my wits, I pulled out my golden lyre from my tunic. Rising from my seat, I stumbled towards the center of the tavern, where there was an open space. Around me, those who were on this dance floor were swaying around merrily locked in each other arms. But I was ready to put a sudden damper on their liveliness.
My strumming of the lyre overpowered the music being played by another bard in the tavern. It prompted him to stop, forcing everyone to have to listen to my own ballad. I closed my eyes and expressed my wistful sentiments.
A famous musician there once was, known across the lands.
Music ran in his blood, his songs gained command.
This man was noble, strong. His heart full of jubilation.
Those who listened to his music expressed nothing but admiration.
The musician thought he had everything he could possibly desire.
But he felt there was still something missing in his life, a yearning still afire.
The man eventually met the love of his life at a feast where they would dance,
And soon he realized what that yearning was that he needed, blissful romance.
The rowdy crowd around me tried to interrupt my song, heckling and booing me. Some of them shouted obscenities, wanting me to stop singing altogether. But I was distracted and determined more than ever to finish my final verse. No one here was going to disrupt me from doing that. So, I continued to drown them out with my music and lyrics.
But the man soon became lonesome when he left his lover alone by mistake.
When he went to search for him, he discovered his lover was bitten by a venomous snake.
The musician fell to the ground, holding his lover in his arms, curled.
No amount of tears could keep his soul from departing to the Underworld.
Before I could finish any other words, a drunk man blurted out shouting. “I’m sure your lover is glad he died. I would kill myself if I had to listen to your babbling every day too!” Everyone around the intoxicated fool erupted with laughter and hysterics, continuing to chastise me with their hateful comments.
A rage began to swell within me. My eyes darted at the man who made the vile remark. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was already marching over to him, my face flushed with fury. I threw my lyre inside my tunic, freeing both of my hands. For what I anticipated next, I would need both of them to do the damage I intended to give to this odious imbecile.
The wine had fueled my infuriation. I was no longer in control of my own actions. When I was within an arm’s reach from the man, my fist swung directly at him, striking him in the face. Those around him gasped before the uproar came. It was the catalyst needed to get the other drunk men in the tavern riled up as well. Soon, an entire brawl broke out. Chairs were thrown, mugs and bottles smashed over people’s heads. The place had turned into a wild lion’s den.
I only managed to get three swings in at the now bloodied up man on the ground, before two men pulled me up from atop him and began dragging me out of the tavern. I yelled out in protest. “Let me go! I barely put a dent in him!”
The backdoors of the tavern flung open, and the men threw me into the back-alley streets, head first. My face and body landed in a muddy puddle.
“You are no longer welcome in this establishment,” one of the men yelled.
“Do not ever step foot in here again or there will be worse consequences in store for you,” the other threatened me with, before they slammed the door shut behind them.
Lucky for them, I had no intent of ever returning to this despicable, filthy place. No good ever came from my appearance at taverns. It was a pattern I was beginning to finally recognize. I rose to my feet, my face wet and dirty, my clothes now disheveled.
