Orpheus and Eurydice

It's no secret that I love Greek myth. One of my favorite myths, though, is the story of the unfortunate Orpheus and Eurydice.

Although Orpheus appears in older Greek words, the familiar story of his journey into the underworld to rescue his wife, Eurydice, comes to us from the Roman poet Virgil. As the story goes, Eurydice is bitten by a venomous snake on her wedding day; and Orpheus, unable to accept his bride's death, descends into the Underworld and asks Hades and Persephone to let Eurydice return to the land of the living with him.

Persuaded by the power of his music -- which was strong enough that it eased the suffering of the damned and even caused the Furies to weep -- Hades agreed to let Eurydice return to the surface world with Orpheus on one condition. Orpheus had to walk straight out and not look back the entire time. Eurydice, he told Orpheus, would follow him like a shadow.

Orpheus walked for hours in silence, hearing no evidence that Eurydice was following, and wondering if Hades had lied to him. At last he reached the entrance to the surface world, convinced he had been lied to, and he looked back -- just in time to see Eurydice's shade disappear back into the Underworld. Orpheus later dies when he refuses to join the Bacchante in their orgies and they rip him to pieces.

It is a tremendous tale, one I've loved ever since I read it in "D'Aulaires Book of Greek Myths." I've recognized subtle nods to it in other works I've read, and as is true of other retold stories, I've enjoyed seeing the story revisited by later authors.

One such retelling came in a Sandman comic for DC Comics, later collected in the trade paperback "Fables and Reflections." There Orpheus' father is Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, rather than Apollo; and his mother is Calliope, the muse of poetry.

Despite these slight modifications to fit Neil Gaiman's ensemble of characters, his and Eurydice's story is essentially the same as in Virgil's tale. The chief exception is that his head survives being ripped from his body. Morpheus sets his son up with caretakers who become de facto priests to the Orpheic mysteries that spring up around him and he plays a significant part in one issue set during the French Revolution, and starring Johanna Constantine; and in the collection "Brief Lives."

My personal favorite retelling of the story is "Sir Orfeo," one of three poems written by an anonymous poet of the 13th or 14th century, in a dialect of Middle English spoken north of London and away from the court where Geoffrey Chaucer wrote his tales about rhyming pilgrims. The two other poems are "Pearl" and "Gawain and the Green Knight." They are written on the same scroll, of which just one copy has survived to the present day.

The forgotten author of "Sir Orfeo" creates a Christian allegory by mixing the Greek mythology of Orpheus and Eurydice with Celtic mythology and legends of fairies to give us what is also a rollicking good fairy tale.

In this story, Sir Orfeo is both balladeer and king. His wife is Heurodis, and the elf-king has taken a fancy to her. When Orfeo's best efforts to protect Heurodis fail and the elf-king steals her away, Orfeo goes mad with grief. He leaves his kingdom in the hands of his steward and wanders off into the forest to mourn his lost wife.

After 10 years, the grieving Orfeo wanders into the elf-king's camp. He sings so movingly of his loss that the elf-king returns Heurodis. Reunited with his queen, Orfeo regains his wits and they return to his kingdom, where he retains his disguise as a wandering minstrel in order to test the character of his steward.

The steward honors the minstrel for the memory of his departed king, and Orfeo reveals himself. He is restored to his former glory, Heurodis at his side, and makes the steward his heir. Like I said, despite its allegorical nature -- Orfeo for Christ, Heurodis for the church -- it's a neat version of the story.