Pandora's Box, part 6

Epimetheus returned late the following morning, cantering into the castle courtyard as if he were a conquering hero returning from war. Behind him, a short man rode in on a Shetland pony, his long beard dragging on the ground beside the pony’s feet. By his side, a giant of a man marched, his footsteps breaking the stony pathway.

Pandora stared down from her vantage point, revolted by the ridiculous spectacle, certain already that these men would fail her. A spark of anger lit inside her as she watched her new husband dismount and wave to a gaggle of servants as if he were the court jester. Had he no sense of dignity, of royal disdain?

Aurora stood smiling, and even from a distance, Pandora could sense the beauty of those young, blushing cheeks and her husband’s unconscious reaction to the girl’s adoration.

“She must die,” Pandora hissed.

The box hissed in agreement.

Epimetheus bounded into the chamber, eager as a hound, beaming widely, as if expecting praise.

“I have brought you not one, but two of the finest locksmiths in the world, my dear,” he announced. “Shall I take the box down to the hall?”

“No! Don’t you dare touch it.” Pandora’s response was quick and savage, and Epimetheus jerked backwards, as if slapped.

“You wish them to come into our bedchamber?” he asked, clearly confused. “They are of the common kind… and sweaty and unwashed after their long journey too.”

Pandora sighed, her whole body suddenly fatigued and heartily wearied. “Let them come,” she sighed. “But I know they are doomed to failure. I fear you have failed me, Epimetheus. Perhaps your heart was not in the task.”

The box groaned in response. “Pandora, you must open me. I will not fail you. Your future destiny lies within me.”

“Pandora, my own love, I only exist to please you,” Epimetheus protested, his collar suddenly tight and uncomfortable around his sweating neck. He knelt at her feet, abruptly aware of her power and sudden disdain. “Give the locksmiths a chance to perform. They may yet succeed.”

“Go and fetch them,” Pandora said, gazing with intensity at the box. “And repack your sack ready to journey onwards. I have another task for you; one you must not fail this time.”

Pandora ran her hands over the box as she waited, the intricate metals blending into an image of a young, beautiful face.

“I hate her,” she murmured.

“You should destroy her,” the box whispered in return.

The soothsayer’s words returned to her ears once more: The path must be cleared of rivals.

Epimetheus re-entered the room, beckoning the locksmiths to follow him. The short man shuffled into the room, almost tripping over his own beard. Behind him strode the taller, darker man. They stopped, bowed low and then turned their attention to the box.

Epimetheus paced the room, his face growing increasingly sombre as the two men laboured to no purpose. Pandora clenched and unclenched her hands as they tapped, chiselled, and hammered at her precious box. Their faces reddened, their expressions grew more uncertain, until at last, they resorted to shaking the box, jangling the chains in desperation.

“STOP!” Pandora thundered. “You incapable idiots.”

“Your Majesty, there is some form of magic here,” the short man whined. “I have never been thwarted before.”

“Dark arts must be in place,” agreed the taller man. “This box will never be opened by a human hand.”

The box hissed and whistled.

“Get out of my sight!” Pandora snapped. “No wait…GUARDS!”

Two guards in armour rushed into the chamber, their faces wooden with years of obedience.

“Pandora!” exclaimed Epimetheus. “You can’t do this.”

“Do you forget that I am the Queen?” she replied haughtily. “Guards, clap these villains in irons,” Pandora ordered. Then she turned away, sickened with all men and their useless ways. “For Zeus’s sake, is there no-one who will help me in this world?”

Held tight by one of the guards, the short, bearded man coughed, his eyes blinking nervously. “Your Majesty…”

“What?” Pandora’s cold eyes bored into him. “Dare you speak, peasant?”

“I believe there is one locksmith living who might be able to help you.”

“What is his name?” Pandora demanded.

“No-one knows his name, but he lives beyond the mountains, and his reputation is golden amongst locksmiths.”

The tall man nodded quickly, flinching as his arms were twisted painfully behind his back by the bulkiest guard. “Yes, it is said he can open the gates of Heaven and Hell themselves. I believe he could find a way into your precious box, your Majesty.”

Pandora’s eyes glistened with eager greed. “Send him to me within one day, and you shall live. Guards, release them! House them in the stables and be their messengers, wherever they must send word. I must see that locksmith.”

Epimetheus sank onto the bed, his handsome face drained of colour as he watched his wife stride back and forth, muttering to herself. She’s mad, he thought. Why had he ever come here, he thought in despair. He would have been better off staying home, finding himself a tender, obedient little maid to marry, not rich perhaps, but easy and affectionate. An image of Aurora gripping her apron and raising young, red lips to his own laughing mouth swam before his eyes and his heart lurched. Too late he realised the value of quiet but fervent adoration.

“Aurora!” spat Pandora.

Epimetheus jerked in confusion, fearing that she had read his mind.

“What about her?” he asked.

“She must leave my palace at once,” Pandora said. “You must take her deep into the forest and leave her there.”

Sweat dotted Epimetheus’s forehead. “Why?” he demanded. “What has she done to offend you? How is she to live? She won’t be safe in the forest, Pandora. There are a thousand dangers out there, especially for young girls.”

Pandora’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to be overly concerned with that girl’s welfare.”

“Anyone would be,” Epimetheus stated, his heart pounding in fear. “You can’t be so cruel to a sweet innocent like her, surely?”

“Can’t I?” Pandora laughed, a sound as raucous as a raven. “I have barely begun. The instructions have now changed, dear husband of mine.” Her voice oozed with venom. “You will take that sweet innocent into the forest, and you will kill her.”

“What?” Epimetheus’s voice was a mere squeak.

“And you will bring me back her treacherous heart,” Pandora demanded, poking one sharp nail into his cheek, leaving a red mark as if he had been scorched by fire.

Looking at her contorted face, full of jealousy and rage, Epimetheus felt he was staring into the mouth of the devil himself.

“Then perhaps, we can live our happily ever after, in peace,” Pandora continued. She turned away to stroke the box once more. “My box will be opened, and all my desires will be met.”

“But…how can I do what you ask?”

“Or do I need to recall my guards?” Pandora threatened, icy eyes filling with hatred.

Epimetheus shook his head. “I will obey your wishes in all things,” he said.

“Yes, you will indeed,” Pandora replied. “If you value your eyes.”

 Shame flickered through Epimetheus as he thought of Aurora’s warm heart, soon to be dug out of her slender body. He knew she would follow him into the woods, innocent as a lamb.

“Death to Aurora!” The word swooped around the chamber. The box no longer whispered but whistled, its chains rattling with excitement and hatred.

Epimetheus closed his eyes and prayed to the Gods to help him.