The Hero's Shadow

Because stories mean so much to me, I find myself constantly defending the value of humanities, and the way our culture seems to continually dismiss as unimportant anything that can’t be measured and quantified. Many of the most important moments we experience as human CAN’T be measured – they can only be felt. We can only use symbolism and metaphor to describe them. Analogy and comparison are the human being’s natural tools to explain and/or learn that which he or she doesn’t know and can’t measure. Then I got sidetracked answering a question from a former student. I couldn’t help it; once a student of mine, always a student of mine! I love it when anyone continues to question, and I feel it’s important to respond.

So, I promised a story about a hero and his shadow. I promised that story because I think we have plenty of examples of heroes who DON’T give in to their shadows. Even Batman, who went into hiding for 8 years according to the Chris Nolan versions, eventually does emerge and complete his hero’s journey. I had mentioned that heroes who don’t respond to their call, or heroes who don’t complete their journey often become the antagonist in another story. The story I promised is built on that concept, and on the concept that too much shadow can warp our psyches. A hero immersed in the shadow becomes a predator…

Many years ago, or maybe just yesterday, a man sought a woman. He was rich, with much real estate, many employees, and countless good qualities. His luxurious black hair was long, but not too long. He had a manly, square jaw, and his teeth were strikingly white. Most of all, his eye were a piercing shade of blue, like Kashmir sapphires. Ladies who met his gaze were instantly mesmerized, and they fell sway to his charms, his good looks, and his kind words. His name was Sinine Fawkes – unusual name, unusual man, and unusually lucky with the ladies. Truthfully, no one spoke ill of him after she had met him. No woman who had met him was ever thought of again.

Sinine desired the most beautiful, the most innocent, and the most trusting young woman that existed. He longed for her, dreamt of her, imagined he heard her voice… Each woman he enchanted, he compared to the ideal in his mind. Each woman lacked something, and was disposed of, until one day. One day, Sinine found Niavi. Niavi was young, lived with her father and brothers in the country, and she was beautiful and intelligent. Niavi was also poor, but poverty didn’t cover up her exceptional qualities; on the contrary, it enhanced them. No matter how hard she worked, or how many meals she missed, her skin glowed and her mouth smiled. Her brothers and father doted on her, waiting for the kind words that flowed from her lips. Anyone who met Niavi left her feeling as if he or she had been given the greatest treasure in the world.

Sinine compared Niavi to the picture he held in his head of his ideal woman. Niavi’s face became the face of his dreams. He desired to possess her more than anything he had ever desired in his life. Sinine approached her father, asking to be introduced to his blessed daughter, and asking permission to court her. Niavi’s father, astounded that a man of such wealth and stature would want to court his daughter, agreed. Her brothers, all under the spell of Sinine’s charm, willingly agreed that Niavi would do well if Sinine wanted to woo her. The father brought Niavi forward and introduced her to Sinine. He took her hand gently in both of his, and she cast her glance downward, a gentle blush touching her cheeks. He spoke of his enchantment with her beauty and her reputation. Looking up, she sweetly, uttered her thanks with the voice of a mourning dove, soft, low, and melodious. As she gazed into his eyes, it seemed she was swept away into azure ocean depths, depths that spoke of longing, of pain, of a dream unfulfilled for ages. She gasped and gripped his hand tightly in hers, and gave him her most brilliant smile. Sinine responded with a show of white teeth widely displayed, demonstrating his pleasure at her reaction. His gaze drank in the sight of her, seemed to devour her radiance every moment they stood there. Finally, they sat and murmured to each other for most of the afternoon as the father and brothers discreetly withdrew to let the lovers have some time to themselves.

Later, after Sinine had departed, the males came back to ask Niavi about her suitor. She was sitting in a small chair near a window that looked out upon their dry and dusty front yard. Niavi looked at her brothers and father, and smiled a sad, faint smile. They were immediately concerned.

“What is it?” asked one brother.

“My dears,” she spoke, “There is nothing wrong with Mr. Fawkes. He appears to be the epitome of manly perfection. Indeed, he is perfect – everything a woman could want.”

Her father inquired, “But there is something wrong?”

“I can’t explain it, Father. I don’t… well, I don’t trust him.”

Her relatives rushed in to encourage her to dismiss her thoughts. It was inexperience, they said. She’d never met a man like Sinine. He had just overwhelmed her with his sheer personality and charm. She would get used to him, and he would raise her up out of their poverty-stricken life. She quietly heard them out without protest. The next day, Sinine was back, and the family allowed Niavi and Sinine more time to talk and plan. Day after day, Sinine returned, until the day he finally requested to see her father in private.  The brothers were beside themselves with happiness.  Surely, the request would be to marry Niavi. They were not concerned with Sinine’s reputation as a heartbreaker. They knew he had not ever been interested enough in a woman to ask for marriage before. They understood Sinine had sought an ideal, and it appeared he had found the ideal…

Niavi’s father agreed to the marriage, and didn’t consider that his daughter might not want to marry Sinine. As her left, Sinine kissed her cheek and whispered, “It won’t be long now, my love, until you are mine.” Then he turned and left. She watched his back as he walked through the yard and into the distance.

She turned to her brothers, “Does it bother none of you that he has never invited us to even ONE of his houses? That we have never met any of his family, or friends, or former lovers? That we can find no wrong with Mr. Fawkes’s personality or manner of speaking?”

Each of them flew to Sinine’s defense. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with his possessions, they said. He doesn’t want any of his rich relatives or friends to make you feel uncomfortable or uneasy before you are married, they insisted. He speaks the world of you, and his words and visits demonstrate he holds you in the highest regard, they argued. Never before has he sought to marry a woman of his acquaintance, they told her. Niavi closed her eyes, willing her family not to see the impatience that had stirred within her chest.

She stood and informed them, “I will follow this man, Sinine Fawkes. Before I wed him, I will know more about him. Father, you should not have agreed to the marriage without first speaking to me and verifying my wishes in the matter!”

“But I… well, Sinine… I mean, he said that you…” the father sputtered.

“I can imagine what Mr. Fawkes told you. I find it hard to believe that I feel this way when he leaves, for when he is here, I certainly can think of no reason to refuse him,” Niavi explained. “It’s only when he is gone that I feel something in my stomach twisting and turning, trying to grab the attention of my head and heart. Oh! I can’t explain it!”

She ran from the room to her brothers’ room, grabbed a pair of trousers, a shirt, a vest, and a floppy hat from their pile of discarded clothing. Returning to the small front room, she startled her brothers with her ragtag appearance.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” her eldest brother asked her.  She strode past him without a glance and walked into the outside world. The brothers and father squinted at each other in amazement. Never before had Niavi ever behaved in such an outspoken, unseemly way.

Outside, Niavi hurried along the path toward town, her eyes scanning to see Sinine’s elegant gait, a long, unhurried stride that bespoke assurance and pride. Soon, she saw him mingled in with the ever-increasing throng of people as they drew closer to the edges of the city. She spied him turn to the east, down a well-forested street with few structures existing along it. The lane was beautiful, with the tall, arching branches overhanging the width of the well-worn path. Sunlight just managed to glint between the thick boughs and leaves. Niavi thought of a natural cathedral, so much did the trees lushness stretch and arch overhead.  And no matter how fast she walked, it seemed that Sinine would outdistance her if she didn’t hurry. However, the path only led to one stately mansion, and no other streets branched away to distract her from her quarry. Feeling a bit winded, she chose to step off the lane and rest against an old, puckered tree trunk. The large roots rose just over the top of the ground and created a small seat, just fitting Niavi’s slender frame. She relaxed, tilting the floppy hat far back on her head, and gazed through the leaves to the tiny shimmers just  above them. Her eyes drooped, just for a moment, and she thought of how good it would feel to rest… then she jumped to her feet. The gloom beneath the canopy of trees told her that she had closed her eyes for more than a second. She stared eastward, then westward. She was still alone. Calmed, she stood and hurried toward the large home at the end of the street.

As Niavi approached, she saw the front gate was pushed inward to the courtyard at a permanent angle. No one had been through to leave and close the gate in a long time. No light shone from the windows, and the porch was shrouded in pools of darkness. The sun sank below the horizon, and Niavi found herself in nearly perfect darkness. Remembering the approximate location and distance to the front door, she slowly crept forward, steeping gingerly to avoid tripping in the murkiness. Her outstretched fingers groped and finally made contact with the solid façade of what felt like a door. Sliding her palm along the exterior, she quickly found a door handle, and twisted. The house was unlocked. Strange, she thought to herself, to have all this wealth and a staff of employees, but no one here to secure the house at night. She crossed the threshold, and as she moved to the inside of the house, Niavi felt her suspicions about her future husband deepening in the most uncomfortable way. The dimness of the house prevented her from walking further forward. Arms outheld, she edged along the interior wall until she bumped into a small table. Immediately, she placed her hands on its surface, her fingers scrabbling for whatever they could find. A cold, hard object, with a switch and the creak of hinges. A small square box which opened to tiny sticks of woods.  Light! She thought. Then she struck a stick from the small box and a tiny flame pierced the darkness. She could faintly see the lantern, it’s wick trimmed and waiting for fire.

Niavi soon had the lantern casting a wide circle of light around her. Polished marble gleamed on the far reaches of the floor, but the high traffic area in front of her showed signs of scratching and dullness from…what? Too many poorly made shoes? Furniture moved in and out of the house? Heavy objects pulled across the floor? Moving in the direction of the worn area, she encountered the bottom of a large staircase. This must be the grand entrance, she thought. All of the bedrooms and livings areas must be upstairs. She moved to step up, and a commotion drew attention from the farther reaches of the dark houses.  A door slammed, and a high pitched squealing echoed off the hard surfaces of the austere front hallway. Niavi, her chest constricted and her heart hammering, scurried toward the shadows of the stairwell, trimming her lantern to guttering and turning her back toward the noise to shield the glow. She crouched down to make herself as small as possible.

The rustling and screeching grew louder, along with heavy thuds of a booted gait, someone carrying or dragging something rather weighty through the foyer and toward the stairs where Niavi had stood just seconds before.

“Shut up!” she heard a deep man’s voice shout. “I’ve had enough of your whining and sniveling.”

The glow of another lantern neared the bottom of the stairs. Staying low, Niavi crept forward slightly to investigate. A man’s back was toward her and, in front of him, what appeared to be a young woman’s struggling form. She was bound and gagged, but not enough so that she was silent. Her squeals and breathing showed her distress and fear. Her long blonde hair tangled around her head and shoulders, blonde hair that was astonishingly similar to Niavi’s own shade. She froze and waited. The man reached down to lift the young woman from the floor where he had dragged her. As he lowered, he caught sight of a beautiful ruby ring on her hand.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Such a beautiful piece of jewelry on the hand of such a beautiful young lady. It will make the perfect souvenir!”

He reached to remove the ring. It wouldn’t pull free. Exhaling in frustration, he straightened, propped the girl against the stair railing, and removed something from his coat pocket. There was a brief, metallic flash in the dim light, and a sickening crunching sound combined with a shrill and muffled expression from the gagged girl. Her body fell slackly, Niavi, backed further into the shadows, and then something struck her cheek.

The man fanned his lantern around the area at his feet. “Now where did it go?”

Niavi wondered what he could be looking for in the darkness. After a few cursory attempts, the man shrugged and turned toward the unconscious girl. He bent to pick her up and, as he did so, the lantern illuminated his face. Niavi looked upon the man who had dragged this poor girl into his house.  It was Sinine. Niavi clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle the shocked gasp she felt fly to her lips. She drew her breath as slowly as she could to control the sound of her breath in the echoing hall.

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Sinine’s heavy footsteps grew more distant with every sound, moving up to the second level of the home and away from Niavi. When she could no longer hear anything, she turned the wick and increased her light as she stepped forward to remove herself from the house. Her left foot made contact with something not quite as solid as she remembered the marble floor to be. Looking down, Niavi spotted a brilliant red gleam and something else… white skin and red blood. Her stomach recoiled as she realized Sinine had amputated the young lady’s finger so to keep the ring as a souvenir of whatever he had planned tonight. Without thinking, Niavi scooped up the disembodied finger, ring and all, and shoved it into her vest pocket. Shivering with shock and the effort of subduing her horror, she flew toward the door, snuffing out the lantern as she fled. She jumped lightly back through the doorway, taking the front steps two at a time in her haste to escape Sinine’s treachery. Through the gate and into the street she ran, realizing she still held the unlit lamp. Tossing it aside, she continued her dash down the lane and into the darkness.

At the crossroads, she paused for a second, gasping for air as a dying man gasped his last breaths. She bent forward, dizzy from exertion, a voice inside her stomach yelling, “Don’t stop!  RUN!!” Listening to that inner voice, she turned south toward her father’s small cottage, and didn’t slacken her pace until she crossed into their yard. She was home. No lights were on, and she quietly slipped through the front door, stumbling her way to her pallet by the fireside where she usually slept. She wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, and the small fire wouldn’t take away the frost that chilled her to her core. She bowed her head and listened to the fire crackling in the otherwise silent room.

Early the next morning, Niavi’s household was awakened by a pounding at the front door. Startled, she realized she had managed to doze for a while, then she jumped to her feet. Her father’s voice boomed from the back of the house, “Just a minute! Just a minute, please!”

She could hear him continue to mumble under his breath as he wiped his brow and entered the small front room. Niavi could see that he had already started his daily chores around the cottage, and felt slightly ashamed that she hadn’t been up to help him as she usually was. He glanced toward her distractedly, then opened the door. There stood Sinine, a radiant smile gleaming on his face as his eyes sought hers. Niavi looked toward the floor and realized she still had slept in her brothers’ cast off clothing she had worn the night before.

Sinine let loose a chuckle and joked, “I see my early arrival has caught my beautiful bride in her daily glory!”

Niavi kept her face focused on the floor. Let him think it was shame that held her head down. He greeted her father then strode inside the home as if he were already family.

“What? No affectionate kiss for your groom? I couldn’t wait another hour, another minute to gather you into my arms, darling!” he exclaimed. Sinine’s arms reached toward Niavi, enveloping her as two iron bands embrace the wine cask. She didn’t move. “Come now, darling. There’s no shame in the way you are dressed. Honest, hard work in the household is a virtue, and it makes me love you even more than I did a moment ago!”

Still she didn’t move. He stepped away, gazing into her face with concern. “What is it? What has troubled you?”

She looked at her father’s face, her father’s concerning growing with every passing second she didn’t respond. She closed her eyes, drew a deep, calming breath, then said, “It’s nothing. It was nothing but a dream.”

She covered her face with her hands. Let them think her fear came from nightmares. Her father drew her to him and away from Sinine. It wasn’t like Niavi to have bad dreams; she seldom had bad nights since she was a child. Very little in the world ever frightened her.

“Tell us about the dream,” her father urged.

Niavi removed her hands from her face and told her story. She had dreamed that she walked down a long avenue lined with dark, grotesque trees. She saw a dark man drag a screaming woman into the house. She was bound and gagged. The man was harsh and cut off one of her fingers.

Sinine had stepped away slightly. He crossed his hands in front of his body, his eyes narrowing and he looked at Niavi. “Tell me,” he said, “Do you often have dreams of malevolent men kidnapping young women?”

Niavi clenched her body and looked directly into Sinine’s eyes. “No. I never have dreams or murdering men or any other types of men.”

“Well, then,” he grinned, dismissing her fear, “It’s probably that you ate something unusual before you slept last night. You will have a different diet when you live in my mansion. You may have other nightmares, but don’t worry, my love, I will be there to hold you and protect you during the night.”

Niavi continued to stare at Sinine. “Will you, my love? That’s a comfort to me, knowing that I am so innocent of the ways in which the wealthy live and dine. Will you also give me fine clothes to wear?”

He smiled, “Of course, my darling. You will be the most dazzling beauty among all of my friends and acquaintances. You may have new clothing every day, if you wish it.”

Niavi still forced herself to look into Sinine’s eyes, “And will you give me jewelry and trinkets and treasures to enhance the qualities you so love about me?”

Sinine nodded, “You will have whatever you wish. Gold, diamonds-

“I prefer rubies.”

Sinine’s eyes grew wider and colder. Niavi folded her arms across her torso and lifted her chin, “I prefer rubies because that is what the girl in my dream wore when YOU cut off her finger!”

Silence.

Niavi drew the dead girl’s finger from the pocket of the vest. On it trembled the ruby ring.

By this time, her brothers had all crowded into the small room to witness the cause of the unusual morning sounds they heard. Sinine’s brow lowered into a black look of rage, and he lunged toward Niavi. Her brothers formed a small protective circle in front of her.

“No!” Sinine raged. “How could you have that? How could you know? You are supposed to be mine, I must have you! I need you and your goodness! I need it to make me whole!”

Sinine tried to break through the wall of brothers, desperately grabbing for any part of Niavi he could grasp. The brothers lifted him by his arms, and carried him to the door. Before they could exit, he broke free and ran toward Niavi. His arms crushed her body to his and his hands tangled into her hair. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed, “No! No!  I will have you! I will kill you! I will kill you and drink your blood like I have killed the others! They weren’t pure like you! You can make me good again!”

Niavi felt her hair ripping from its roots as Sinine dragged her. Then his fingers loosened as her eldest brother cracked a log across the back of Sinine’s head. His sparkling Kashmir eyes rolled for a moment, then he turned fury on the men in the room. “I will kill you all!”

The brothers tackled Sinine as he rushed them. This time, they dragged him to the back of the house. Once outside, Niavi closed her eyes, unwilling to witness whatever her brothers had planned. Her knees gave way, and she fell to the floor. Later, she opened her eyes, aware that she was on the couch, surrounded by multiple pairs of concerned eyes.

“What happened to Sinine?” she asked, almost afraid the hear the answer.

“My sweet sister,” her eldest brother stroked her hand and said, “You don’t have to ever worry about Sinine Fawkes again.”

She looked at her brother. He closed his mouth and returned her gaze. She knew there would be no further information. She gave his hand a slight squeeze and smiled tightly at him. Years later, she would still wonder whatever happened to the lovely man with the beautiful blue eyes, the one she couldn’t quite bring herself to trust. Every time a woman went missing, she would wonder. From time to time, she even went treasure hunting in the woods surrounding the town, but she found nothing of any value. And when she encountered a particular shade of blue, a cold finger would touch her spine and her heart, and she would think of the time she almost didn’t trust her inner voice.  At those moments, she would sigh and smile, and busy herself again with her labor.

----This story goes by many names: Mr. Fox, The Robber Bridegroom, and Bluebeard are the most familiar. If this were a fulfillment of the hero’s journey, he would face some obstacle he would have to overcome in order to marry the girl. However, he has started this journey many times before. Mr. Fox has something inside him that he can’t let go of, a thwarted hero’s journey from sometime long past. As he has refused and refused whatever his true call to adventure was, it has wrap into a desperate longing to posses pure and beautiful women, and he is successful at it, except no one knows what has happened to the women. In different versions of the story, the object of his affection either marries him, or is about to marry him. He leaves her for no good reason, and she is alone in their castle, or she follows him to his castle (she’s never been there). In one story, she’s allowed into every room except one. Of course, she goes into the one room that is forbidden! She finds the bodies of numerous dead women, is confronted by her husband, but manages to escape. In the second version, she hides out in his house, and witnesses him bring home a kidnapped woman, for whom he has very dark intentions. The woman struggles, and he cuts off a hand or a finger, and the piece of the body lands in the lap of the betrothed. Horrified, she runs back home. When her suitor arrives the next day, she confronts him with the body part, and her male relatives pounce on Mr. Fox and kill him.  In either story, the hero ends up as the villain, or antagonist, to the girl’s journey although the story is named after the man.

Bluebeard is the representation of a hero who has aligned with his shadow. The shadow hero takes power away from others through his own power. He or she diverts and draws energy away from those around him instead of serving those people in a self-sacrificial way. They become HIS sacrifices as he seeks to satisfy the inner longing to come out of the shadows and bring balance to his/her life. The shadow of the hero archetype is the predator.

I ask you today: How many “predators” do you know, who seek to selfishly empower themselves while devaluing the people around them? How many times do you find yourself experiencing pleasure when you are hurtful to someone, or you take glory at someone else’s expense? Remember, these archetypes aren’t just for use in identifying others, they are for US to identify when our lives are out of balance.

I hope you have a wonderful afternoon out there.  Here is a smile to see you through the rest of the day. If you want my full version of the Bluebeard story, visit my blog link. I will post that link in the next couple of days.