Author guest post from Lynn Hamilton.

“I’m your Venus; I’m your fire, your desire.”

–Robbie van Leeuwen

If you know anything about Venus, you know she is the goddess of sexual desire. Celebrated in song and poetry.

Or you know her as that armless wonder at a Paris museum.

That’s not how everyone saw her. An African poet, Apuleius, had the courage to show who Venus was, when at home. The poet gives us a shop-worn goddess, clinging to her beauty queen reputation, in his long poem, the Golden Ass. Her son, Cupid, is a grown man now.

You remember Cupid, right? He shoots an arrow into you, and you fall madly, irrevocably in love with the next person you see. He was dangerous enough as a child. Now he is a man, and his fiery arrows go astray and burn down barns.

He’s also become a casual home wrecker. Even the other gods are scared of him, though they have to pretend otherwise, or all hell really could break loose.

Meanwhile, a human girl has been born on earth whose beauty rivals that of Venus,’ especially in the eyes of the girl’s parents. Just as soon as Psyche was old enough to start dating, her parents published the news that she was just as pretty as Venus–and possibly prettier.

Mortals have been killed for much less. But murder isn’t really Venus’ brand. Plotting, scheming, and petty revenge are more her style. She informed her son that a mere mortal had grasped at the worship due to none but Venus herself. The goddess commanded Cupid to make this unworthy girl fall in love with someone ugly and stupid.

Apuleius doesn’t even have to tell us that Cupid fell madly, irrevocably in love with Psyche. (Everybody wants a girl like his mother, right?) But he was still properly scared of Mom. So he started an affair with Psyche in secret and hid his identity from her and his marriage from mom. Psyche never saw his true form because he made love to her in the dark.

Psyche heard a rumor that a dragon was roaming nearby. She started wondering if that’s what she married. When Cupid was sound asleep, she grabbed a razor with which she intended to slay him. She had hidden an oil lamp and with this light, she finally looked upon the man who called himself her groom.

He was no dragon. He was clearly a god.

She could tell he was Cupid from his golden hair, perfect parts, and flawless, smooth skin. His wings were beautiful. His bow and arrows, adult weapons, lay at the foot of the bed. She examined those, too.

But she was too curious and hovered too long. A dollop of oil from the lamp fell on Cupid and awakened him. He saw that he had been betrayed and took off without a word, but Psyche grabbed him by the thigh. They traveled thus, he flying, she holding on until she could hold on no longer and fell to earth.

Cupid landed above her on a cypress and started scolding. His complaints sounded a lot like the litany of complaints that husbands bring today: He had given her everything; no reasonable woman could want more than this; he had even defied his mother for her! How could she be so ungrateful? And a razor! Really, she was going to end him? He flew off, and she watched his departing form until it disappeared in the distant sky. She adored him.

In despair, she tried to drown herself in the nearest river. But rivers and trees have consciousness in the world of Roman myth. And this river knew that Psyche was Cupid’s bride. Out of fear of that great god, the river refused to drown the girl, preferring to gently toss her onto its banks where a cluster of herbs provided a soft landing.

A rural god named Pan was grazing his goats nearby and tutoring a young mountain goddess to sing and play the pipes. He spied Psyche and could tell she was sad for love. He spoke to her, commanding her gently not to die for love, but to pray to the love god, Cupid, sincerely offering him her services. Your humble author guesses this pretty much felt to Psyche like someone rubbing salt into a cut. But she remembered her piety, made reverence to the god as she was supposed to, and departed.

Psyche then made a journey of repentance, encountering many goddesses and forces of nature. And where was Cupid, all this time? He had done as outraged grooms have done throughout history. He went home to Mom and complained about his bride. (Notice how carefully your humble author is avoiding the term “man flu.”)

Venus flew into a rage upon learning that he had wed. When she learned it was Psyche, her rage accelerated. She denounced her son and threatened to clip his wings and cut his hair – both of them were gifts from her, after all, and she could take them away.

Other goddesses flew to Venus’ side to gently reason with her. Her son was a love god. Was he not supposed to fall in love?

Venus raged on. Her son consorted with whores! And other women who, while not technically sex workers, were of low repute! Her sister goddesses genuinely wished to give her peace, but they were equally afraid of Cupid’s arrows, so they left in a timely manner.

In the end, Cupid had to forgive Psyche. She was carrying his child, a new god. He flew to Mount Olympos and petitioned Jupiter to marry a mortal. Jupiter, King of the Roman gods, summoned his peer to a meeting and explained that Cupid had been an “adulterous” danger to himself and others, much like a wildfire. But now, he had met a beautiful mortal woman, and this was the universe’s best defense against an unwed Cupid.

Mercury, with his winged sandals and helmet, acted as best man. He flew Psyche up to heaven, and she drank from a cup that made her immortal. The wedding of Cupid and Psyche was attended by all the greater and lesser gods, including the Hours, Muses, Graces, and Pan. Apollo played on his lyre, and Venus danced.

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