Nightsong by Michael Cadnum Page A

play.
    Too long, and my heart is far too heavy, and surely the skill has faded from my fingers.
    He touched the instrument gently, nonetheless, feeling the familiar strings vibrant and supple beneath his trembling fingers.
    He nearly dropped the lyre, shocked at what he heard.

7

THIRTY-ONE
    The sound that lifted upward from the lyre was not a mere musical note, soft but sustained.
    It was the unmistakable whisper, “Orpheus!”
    There could be no doubt.
    It was the voice of Eurydice.
    Orpheus did not dare to touch the strings again, certain, despite the evidence of his own hearing, that he was being tricked by some hard-hearted prankster. He glanced around at the expectant faces of parents and friends, ready to burst out accusingly, Which of you is cruel and spiteful enough to taunt me?
    Biton’s innocently wondering smile, and the rapt, eager features of the assembled family, answered Orpheus’s silent question.
    I’ll try that note again, he thought.
    In a moment – when I’ve recovered my senses.
    When he could not hesitate any longer, he stretched his fingers again, and it seemed that the strings moved, seeking his hand more eagerly than ever before.
    The poet plucked a new chord, and he heard her again: “Orpheus, sing with me!”
    He nearly stood upright, and almost let the lyre fall once more – but he remained seated, stunned into new silence.
    The others in the room waited, anticipation in their eyes, unaware of the presence that resounded in the sickroom only in the poet’s ears.
    Only Orpheus could hear her voice, it seemed. He ran his finger along a string, and there she was again, singing the syllables of his name.
    Orpheus found new music, plucking tenderly, listening with increasing joy to the sound of Eurydice the way he had first heard her, bathing in the woods, lifting her voice in praise of the divine Juno.
    As he played, her voice surrounded him, a living presence.
    And, breathlessly at first, so Orpheus lifted his voice with hers.
    What is day ,
    what is night ,
    your footstep so close .
    Young Norax stirred on his sickbed, blinking. He rose to one elbow, his lips parted, caught by the poem.
    The injured boy sat up, gazing at the source of the music, Orpheus and the shining lyre. Norax smiled, happy but confused at the cries of gratitude as his parents knelt beside his sickbed, and gathered him into their arms.
    From that day, and throughout the era of Orpheus’s journeys that followed, into distant lands, each time he placed his hand on the lyre, he heard the voice of Eurydice.
    And every day of the poet’s life he sang with her.

AUTHOR’S NOTE
    While I create my own stories based on the myths portrayed by the Latin poet Ovid, his magnificent poem The Metamorphoses remains one of the inspirations for my own writings about the classical era.
    For this reason, I use the Roman names for the gods and goddesses. Minerva is not entirely the same goddess as Athena, and Jupiter is not exactly the same as Zeus. However, I have decided to continue to follow Ovid’s names for the divinities in the interest of consistency, and out of respect for that great poet and the world he brought to life.

About the Author
    Michael Cadnum is the author of thirty-five books for adults and young adults. His work—which includes thrillers, suspense novels, historical fiction, and books about myths and legends—has been nominated for the National Book Award ( The Book of the Lion ), the Edgar Award ( Calling Home and Breaking the Fall ), and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize ( In a Dark Wood ). A former National Endowment for the Arts Creative Writing Fellow, he is also the author of award-winning poetry. Seize the Storm (2012) is his most recent novel.
    Michael Cadnum lives in Albany, California, with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

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