Till We Have Faces_ A Myth Retold - C. S. Lewis [18]
I think he felt better the longer he railed. The breath had been knocked out of me so that I could neither sob nor rise nor speak. Somewhere above my head I heard them talking on, making all the plans for Psyche's death. She was to be kept prisoner in her chamber — or no, better in the room with five sides, which was more secure. The temple guards would reinforce our own; the whole house must be guarded, for the people were weathercocks — there might be a change of mood, even a rescue. They were talking soberly and prudently like men providing for a journey or a feast. Then I lost myself in darkness and a roaring noise.
* * *
SIX
She's coming to her mind again," said my father's voice. "Take that side of her, Fox, and we'll get her to the chair." The two of them were lifting me; my father's hands were gentler than I expected. I have found since that a soldier's hands often are. The three of us were alone.
"Here, lass, this'll do you good," he said when they had put me in the chair, holding a cup of wine to my lips. "Faugh, you're spilling it like a baby. Take it easy. So, that's better. If there's a bit of raw meat still to be had in this dog-hole of a palace, you must lay it on your bruises. And look, daughter, you shouldn't have crossed me like that. A man can't have women (and his own daughters, what's worse) meddling in business."
There was a sort of shame about him; whether for beating me or for giving up Psyche without a struggle, who knows? He seemed to me now a very vile, pitiable king.
He set down the cup. "The thing has to be done," he said. "Screaming and scrabbling won't help. Why, the Fox here was just telling me it's done even in your darling Greeklands — which I begin to think I was a fool ever to let you hear of."
"Master," said the Fox, "I had not finished telling you. It is very true that a Greek king sacrificed his own daughter. But afterwards his wife murdered him, and his son murdered the wife, and Those Below drove the son mad."
At this the King scratched his head and looked very blank. "That's just like the gods," he muttered. "Drive you to do a thing and then punish you for doing it. The comfort is I've no wife or son, Fox."
I had got my voice again now. "King," I said, "you can't mean to do it. Istra is your daughter. You can't do it. You have not even tried to save her. There must be some way. Surely between now and the day — "
"Listen to her!" says the King. "You fool, it's tomorrow they offer her."
I was within an inch of fainting again. To hear this was as bad as to hear that she must be offered at all. As bad? It was worse. I felt that I had had no sorrow till now. I felt that if she could be spared only for a month — a month, why, a month was like eternity — we should all be happy.
"It's better so, dear," whispered the Fox to me in Greek. "Better for her and for us."
"What are you mumbling about, Fox?" said the King. "You both look at me as if I were some sort of two-headed giant they frighten children with, but what'd you have me do? What would you do yourself, Fox, with all your cleverness, if you were in my place?"
"I'd fight about the day first. I'd get a little time somehow. I'd say the Princess was at the wrong time of the month to be a bride. I'd say I'd been warned in a dream not to make the Great Offering till the new moon. I'd bribe men to swear that the Priest had cheated over the lots. There's half a dozen men across the river who hold land from him and don't love their landlord. I'd make a party. Anything to gain time. Give me ten days and I'd have a secret messenger to the King of Phars. I'd offer him all he wants without war — offer him anything if he'd come in and save the Princess — offer him Glome itself and my own crown."
"What?" snarled the King. "Be a little less free with other men's wealth, you'd best."
"But, Master, I'd lose not only my throne but my life to save