

### The Mysteries

A Novel of Ancient Eleusis

by

David Sheppard

Complete in One Volume

Previously published in two volumes:

### Daughter of Darkness

### and

### The Dadouchos

Copyright 2012 by David Sheppard

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1-4764-2558-0

ISBN-10: 1-4764-2558-2

Cover Illustration and Map by Richard Sheppard

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Book Web site:  
http://www.themysteriesofeleusis.com

### FOR

All the brave women throughout history  
whose stories have never been told.

### Acknowledgements

The concept of this book is the outgrowth of a conversation I had with a friend of mine several years ago at a coffee shop in Boulder, Colorado. After listening to me talk obsessively about Herodotus, she suggested I write a novel set in ancient Greece. The essence of the story came to me immediately. She also midwifed it through the first draft. My sister-in-law, Nancy Sheppard, read it in episodes as it was written and offered encouragement. The expertise of my editor, Marilyn Mueller, has once again been indispensable. A special thanks to Richard Sheppard for the map and the cover design and illustration.

### Author's Note

I am the author of _Novelsmithing, The Structural Foundation of Plot, Character, and Narration_. I used the methods of _Novelsmithing_ to write _The Mysteries_. I have researched the time period religiously. Practically all sources are a part of my home library. Anyone interested in the size and content of my library can find it listed at:

<http://www.librarything.com/catalog/dshep/yourlibrary>

For field research, I visited Greece twice, once for ten weeks in October 1993 and then for sixteen days in October 2009. I took a considerable number of photos and video clips, some of which I've provided for viewing at www.themysteriesofeleusis.com.

My readers may follow me on twitter at user name "SheppardDavid" and on my blog www.novelsmithingblog.com. When I travel, I post at

http://www.palehorseblog.com

Ancient Greece in the 5th Century BC was a collection of separate city-states, loosely bound by a common language and religion. The ancient Greeks called the encompassing geographical area Hellas, and its people the Hellenes. No one called it Greece. I have used both: Greece/Greeks for narration and Hellas/Hellenes for dialogue.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Persia Crosses the Hellespont

Chapter 2: Night Horseman at Eleusis

Chapter 3: The Burning of Brauron

Chapter 4: Flight in Darkness

Chapter 5: The War Council

Chapter 6: Return to Eleusis

Chapter 7: The Oracle from Delphi

Chapter 8: Entering the Underworld

Chapter 9: A Cloud of Spirits

Chapter 10: Evacuation to Salamis

Chapter 11: The Battle of Salamis

Chapter 12: Epilepsy

Chapter 13: Xerxes' Lament

Chapter 14: The Funeral Pyre

Chapter 15: The Isthmus of Corinth

Chapter 16: Halcyon Days at Eleusis

Chapter 17: The Seizure

Chapter 18: The Physician

Chapter 19: Prophecy on the Road

Chapter 20: The Seer of Epidaurus

Chapter 21: Encounter with Asklepios

Chapter 22: The War Machine

Chapter 23: The Burning of Eleusis

Chapter 24: In the Persian Camp

Chapter 25: Contention Among the Ashes

Chapter 26: The Battle of Plataea

Chapter 27: Exile

Chapter 28: A Mistress for the Dadouchos

Chapter 29: The Vision

Chapter 30: The Council of Generals

Chapter 31: A View of the Fates

Chapter 32: The Broach of Arrogance

Chapter 33: Reading Entrails

Chapter 34: A Call to Courage

Chapter 35: Voyage to a Distant Shore

Chapter 36: Reviewing the Troops

Chapter 37: The Battle of Mykale

Chapter 38: A Final Word to the Generals

Chapter 39: The Newborn

Chapter 40: Journey to the Elysian Fields

Chapter 41: The Funeral

Chapter 42: The Cost of Salvation

Chapter 43: Xerxes' Bridge Cables

CHAPTER 1: Persia Crosses the Hellespont

A great bonfire burned on shore where fast water flowed through the strait separating Europe and Asia, the Hellespont. A man of war, dressed in a short black tunic, stepped forward with a hot iron, the tip glowing brilliant red, and slipped it into the hurrying current. Steam hissed into the cold morning air, and its froth trailed downstream, dissolved. Warrior after warrior appeared carrying glowing irons, and they too branded the water, marking it for the Persian King, King of Kings, Xerxes. Men carrying jangling fetters emerged from the crowd and ceremoniously heaved them far into the unbridled flow. Another thirty stepped forward, each with a coiled length of lash used to force reluctant men into battle, and, leaning over the current, dealt it three-hundred stinging lashes, all the while shouting, "You salt and bitter stream, Xerxes punishes you for your insults and will cross you without permission, without sacrificing. Your acid and muddy waters deserve neglect."

Ten more were brought forward, unwilling men, their heads laid upon the chopping block. These were the engineers who'd built the bridge across the strait recently decimated by violent storm and churning surf. Another man emerged from the throng, dressed in black, hooded. His pale legs stuck from beneath his tunic as healed tubular wounds. He swung his ax with the confidence of one who'd performed the task a long bitter time, as from a god's bidding. The swift stroke of the ax fell, and each severed head, all ten in turn, rolled among tender wildflowers. The mouths moved as if to articulate some ancient wisdom. Bodies slumped, releasing pulsing spurts of life-giving blood. A leg, a hand quivered as though stricken by a fit of nervousness.

A Greek, Harpalus, not a prisoner but a traitorous engineer, stepped forward to execute the order at which the Persian team of ten had failed so miserably: to bridge the Hellespont. Horns bellowed, men shouted as they labored against the elements. Anchored ships bucked and pitched in the restless current while wooden winches groaned, stretching taut giant coils of papyrus and flax cables, straining to fulfill an oracle. The arched lines hissed in the wind like snakes. Two more bridges, formed of biremes, triremes, rope and plank, stretched the width of the channel.

The strait bridged, the king burned incense, broadcast myrtle bows over the road, and put his troops in motion. When an old man begged the King for his eldest son to remain behind to protect his family and tend crops, the king cut the son down the middle and, leaving a bloody half on each side of the road, drove the army between them. A total eclipse of the sun reduced the landscape to darkness, causing birds to roost, and giving the king pause, but the Magi put the King's mind to rest. "'Tis but a sign to the Hellenes of the future eclipsing of their cities," they said. For seven days and nights, the troops crossed, one million seven hundred thousand under the lash of the impatient king. All Greece shuddered.

As she stepped off the bridge into Europe, a mare gave birth to a hare.

CHAPTER 2: Night Horseman at Eleusis

On the far side of the Aegean in a quiet bay lay the small town of Eleusis, an ancient city, sacred, known for worship of the two goddesses: Demeter and her daughter, who was referred to as Kore, the Maiden. So feared was the divine daughter that her name, Persephone, was never spoken in public for she was Mistress of the Underworld.

Within the stone walls of the semi-sacred quarter where the priests of the Mysteries made their homes, slept the priestess of Demeter, her dreams tainted with worry over her own daughter. The clap of a horse's hooves on cobblestone and the bark of dogs roused her. She recognized the booming voice of her brother-in-law, Aeschylus, who'd been away to the north with the Greek army. His presence at Eleusis could only mean that something decisive had happened.

Myrrhine's handmaid stood in the stone doorway, vestiges of sleep casting a blank expression upon her face. Myrrhine dismissed the woman back to bed and, slipping into her robe by herself, hurried from the room and down the hall, now populated by sleepy-eyed children and scolding mothers. A hungry puppy whined at her feet. She entered the large chamber built around the hearth of Hestia, the flickering sacred fire.

Aeschylus already stood before the flames rubbing his hands, his booming voice addressed to the Hierophant, Myrrhine's aged father. She wondered if her father ever slept anymore. The room had filled with the acrid smell of a man who'd been long on the move.

She hurried to Aeschylus, feeling a renewed safety in his presence, but restrained herself from embracing him, as was the custom. She kept her eyes averted. "I hope it's good news that brings you home so unexpectedly," she said to the man who reminded her so much of her late husband.

Aeschylus' eyes glowed coal-like beneath a bushy bank of eyebrows. He shook his head. "Myrrhine, my brother's wife and he in Hades now ten years, I wish I could say something to console you, but you'd see through me. I'll speak nothing but plain truth. The Athenians have decided against opposing Xerxes at the Vale of Tempe and have dropped back to Thermopylae. They'll force Xerxes' hand at the Hot Gates."

The priestess looked questioningly at the Hierophant, but could read nothing in that wrinkled face. He'd seemed distant the last few years, as if only matters of the other world, the Underworld, concerned him. He creaked about the house like an old ghost. She turned back to Aeschylus. "That's still a good way north. Is Eleusis in danger?"

Aeschylus' face filled with a disillusionment she'd never witnessed in this man who'd fought at Marathon, where her husband had died. He stared into the fire. But he didn't respond to her, instead turning again to her father. "Listen, Zakorus," he said, using the Hierophant's name instead of his title, "I was born and raised at Eleusis. My line of descent here goes back as far as yours. I'll not see all these women, children, and old men slaughtered like so many sacrificial goats. I've seen Xerxes' forces with my own eyes, stood on a mountaintop and first thought them the very grasses of the earth, Demeter's gift. The locust horde of Persian warriors filled the valleys and overran hills. Xerxes has forced into service all those conquered on his way here. His army has swelled to five million. We have but five-hundred thousand."

"But the same was true at Marathon, and we killed them like flies." Myrrhine turned away as she spoke, remembering it was also Aeschylus who'd returned from battle bringing Kynegeiros' body.

Philokleia, Aeschylus' wife, rushed into the room, fell into her husband's arms, and sobbed softly. Myrrhine knew well the woman's gloomy disposition. Philokleia whispered that their two boys, Euphorion and Euaion, had taken ill.

"Myrrhine is right, Aeschylus," the Hierophant said, ignoring Philokleia's presence. "The odds were heavily against us at Marathon, but the great god Pan took our side and spread terror through the Persian ranks. Even Theseus, though dead eight-hundred years, was seen leading the charge. The gods won't allow Persia to destroy Hellas."

"Not true," said Aeschylus. "The gods have decided against us. Xerxes has many Hellene allies, not only Ionia, but also Karia and the rest of Phrygia. Our neighbors, Thessaly and Thebes, have gone over to him. You must evacuate. Themistocles has given the word for Athens. Persians will descend on us here like the waters of Deucalion's Flood."

Aeschylus then held Philokleia at arms' length and quietly questioned her about the children. He told her they'd best prepare to evacuate. "Everything and everyone," he said. "We have little time for such a large task." Then Philokleia left the room, nodding to Myrrhine as she passed.

The Hierophant relaxed. "We'll never abandon Eleusis," he said. "We didn't evacuate before Marathon. We have sentinels at Oak Heads pass to the north, and our own army mans our walls. If the Persians don't use the route through the mountains, they'll come at Eleusis from the east and have Athens to contend with first."

"Their forces will be brushed aside with a single stroke."

"You don't understand the significance of Demeter's sacred temple. To abandon Eleusis is to abandon mankind. The gods will never forsake Eleusis, nor will we."

"My ignorance isn't the point!" Aeschylus shouted. "This new Persian threat, I tell you, it's not like Marathon." He turned his back on the Hierophant and looked at Myrrhine, warmed his hands over the fire again.

His shouting scared Myrrhine, but she could say nothing to arbitrate between men.

The Hierophant continued. "I'm not concerned about Xerxes. He knows nothing of war strategy. As long as he's in command, Hellas will survive. It's that cousin of his, Mardonius, who scares me. He was defeated and wounded in Thrace a year before Marathon. Ever he covets a power base, and he's vowed to govern Hellas some day because of his humiliation. His strategy drives Xerxes invasion."

Myrrhine let silence lie between them before she spoke. "At the very least we might retrieve Melaina from Brauron. I've been uneasy with her away from home lately, and several women in labor have asked for her. She has such a gift for comforting during delivery."

The Hierophant glared at her, and his voice hardened. "You protested me sending her. She'd never leave your side if it were up to you. She must stay at Artemis' temple until the ritual of the Bear. Her education, so important to Eleusis, is at stake. I won't disobey the will of the gods because of the Persians. They've been here before."

Aeschylus raised his hands to the sides of his head. "You've left Melaina at Brauron? You old fool! Your miscalculation could cost her life. At the very least, send a soldier to Brauron to protect her, stand guard over her day and night. I've heard rumors of Persian raiders on horseback penetrating far into Attica. And with Brauron on the coast, one ship could sack the entire sanctuary."

The old Hierophant seemed to lose confidence. "We're that vulnerable?" he said to himself, then looked up at Aeschylus. "Myrrhine can see to it tomorrow. But when you rejoin the troops, remember our greatest strength." He looked away, quiet in thought. When he spoke again some of the tension had left his voice. Myrrhine thought perhaps he even smiled. "We're a free people, Aeschylus. Every man who takes up arms against Persia does so to defend his own home. Persians go to war under the lash."

Aeschylus calmed. "I know you speak from the heart, and I don't deny the importance of the Mysteries. For a thousand years they've influenced our institutions, over-influenced to my mind. Their emphasis on the worth of the individual was undoubtedly the seed that put political power into the hands of the people, but you haven't seen Xerxes' army. We're but a handful of city-states against the entire Persian Empire."

Myrrhine was accustomed to their arguments. Aeschylus had steadfastly refused to be initiated into the Mysteries though he was born and raised in the sacred city. His presence was a constant provocation to the Hierophant. And now this matter of evacuating stood between them. She left the room but didn't return to her chamber. Concern for her daughter's safety flared like a mania. She walked the stone corridor to the back of the house, stopped by the kitchen to draw a cup of wine, then passed through the courtyard to another stone enclosure, a small one with no door. An oil lamp flickered on a square stone beside a mound, the tomb of her late husband. She breathed the cold, thick air.

"Dear Earth, born of Chaos, mother of all mortals and immortals, hear me and call forth my dear husband, entrusted to your care. Call him from the magnificent Elysian Fields deep within your womb so he might listen to my words." She poured half of the cup of red wine into the recess of the burial mound, prayed again, louder and with greater confidence. "Beloved Kynegeiros, husband ten years dead, I beg forgiveness for this intrusion into your new life among the gods and know how my beauty pales beside that of the goddesses who now share you, but come, Kynegeiros, listen to me. A great storm stirs to the north."

She poured the remaining half-cup of wine, listened as if for footsteps of the dead, then continued. "The enemy who slew you has returned, vowing to waste all Hellas. And our daughter, Melaina... O Kynegeiros! How can I tell you what a beauty she's become? Only a goddess' flashing eyes and smile could be more radiant. Now she's on the east coast of Attica at Brauron, the temple of Artemis, to dance the Bear. I have such great fear Persians will take her. If you could speak to Artemis, virgin goddess, protectress of children, about Melaina, such great comfort would come from it."

She stopped for a moment searching for some further enticement for her husband's help. "Through the great solitude since your departure, I've remained faithful though I've not been without suitors. I take heart remembering the chasteness of Penelope during her long years of waiting for Odysseus. I have no hope for your return, still I remain yours, and so I shall be though I live an eternity. O how I long for thy gentle touch! Fare thee well, Kynegeiros, fare thee well, fare thee well. May earth rest lightly upon thee."

After leaving his tomb, she considered returning to bed, but thought of one more way to voice her desperation. She entered the walkway between stone buildings, the sparkle of stellar constellations spread above. At the wall around the sanctuary, she greeted the guard standing below a burning torch and entered through the back gate. The altars of Demeter and Kore stood before the Telesterion, marble statues glistening with the half moon. She supplicated herself on the cold steps before Demeter, then came to her feet, touched a hand to her lips and with outstretched arms prayed aloud.

"Divine mother, august but gentle goddess, Demeter. You alone can understand the grief of my daughter's absence, you who suffered so when Kore was ripped from your bosom. Send Melaina to me, O Divine One. Cure this desperation, and deliver us from Persia. Around your throne, whirl and howl with ecstasy, filling the enemy with terror if he knocks upon your gates. Preserve your glorious sanctuary, so we may ever celebrate your sacred rites."

She hurried home, accompanied by roughhousing dogs. Reentering her chamber, she slipped from her robe, pulled back the bearskin blanket, and as she lay down, gathered her breasts in her arms and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 3: The Burning of Brauron

On the opposite coast of Attica, in swampland at the mouth of the oft-flooded Erasinos, stood the temple of Artemis. During daylight, the hillsides echoed with shouts of young maidens, and during evening, sweet lyre music lofted with the rustle of oak leaves to sweep cold temple walls. Darkness was dense before dawn, and the girls lay silent as corpses.

Melaina saw them coming to kill her first, then all the rest, woke realizing it was just a dream. She lingered in misty visions of so many girls, all her friends, slaughtered at the temple of Artemis. As Hermes' world slowly faded, she knew the upcoming ceremony had precipitated it. She would be dead by nightfall; they'd all die that day, symbolically sacrificed for the sake of Greece, as had been Iphigeneia centuries earlier. But they'd be reborn as young women, to assume roles as wives and mothers, and to run the households of Greece.

Her dream had seemed so real, the screaming, the blood. She still trembled. They'd even killed the priestesses. Many deaths would actually occur that day, but the girls would do the killing, slitting the throats of she-goats representing their maiden-selves. Melaina worried over it, not ready to leave behind her childhood friends to run the home of some man she'd never met.

She listened to the soft breath of the three friends sharing her chamber and snuggled against Theodora, worried. Their days at Brauron were coming to an end, and her mother should have arrived yesterday. She'd missed her mother so much these past months.

But it was more than that. Lately, she'd noticed a familiar face stalking the grounds of Brauron, a soldier from Eleusis. He lingered about, always in the background, even in areas of the sanctuary ordinarily off limits to men. His appearance was also troubling, sword strapped at his side, shield in hand. He carried a spear. Melaina knew the priestesses were trying to keep news of an impending war from the girls, but the overheard whispers simply magnified their fears. Several families had pulled their girls out of Brauron. Rumors of an evacuation were on every girl's lips, and the hateful word "Persia" would send the littlest screaming.

Melaina untangled her legs from Theodora's, reached for her chiton, pulled it over her head, and slipped from the room. She went directly to Hestia's hearth, poured the morning's libation there, noticing that Kynthia, priestess of Artemis, had already added sacred oak to rekindle the coals. Melaina whispered a prayer to Asklepios, the god who resurrected them from Hermes' dream world into the new day, and found Kynthia at the slaughter stone. Melaina helped the young priestess sacrifice a cock to Asklepios as bright sunlight broke the horizon. Afterward, Melaina told the priestess of her dream.

"Entry into the world of adults can be frightening," Kynthia said, "and with war looming it's particularly difficult. That's why we have divine Artemis help make the transition. Are you to marry when you return home?"

"I've not been given away yet," answered Melaina. "I dread leaving my mother. If my husband won't allow me to read and write poetry I'll wither. Here at Brauron I've fallen in love with Sappho's poetry. I want to be a teacher, too."

Kynthia smiled, seemed to wrestle with a thought. "I know another course should a young woman not choose marriage." She hesitated again. "You could follow the divine virgin. I myself have chosen the path of Artemis. But you'd not marry, never have children."

"Oh, mother Kynthia!" responded Melaina. "To follow Artemis would be a miracle. I'd settle for being like Sappho, but I'm afraid grandfather already has my future planned."

"Perhaps you can persuade him."

"Demeter and Kore are such strong influences at Eleusis. And my grandfather is the Hierophant."

The two of them spoke no more of it, letting the thought lie between them as a shared dream. The rest of the girls and priestesses joined them, forming a procession to the temple. During the day, the girls reenacted the life of Iphigenia, Agamemnon's daughter, who'd founded the temple there at Brauron. Seven hundred years before, when the Greek fleet left to fight the Trojan War, it mustered in the bay at Aulis, just north of Brauron. But Artemis calmed the winds, so the Greeks couldn't sail and demanded that Agamemnon sacrifice his most beautiful daughter to her. Agamemnon brought Iphigeneia to Aulis under the pretext of marrying her to Achilles, greatest of Greek warriors, but once there, the seer Kalchas dragged Iphigeneia to the slaughter stone. Just as the blade touched Iphigenia's throat, Artemis whisked her away and substituted a deer to die in her place. Iphigenia became Artemis' priestess at Brauron. She never married but assisted women in childbirth.

The girls danced around Iphigenia's tomb and brought a hind into the temple, a symbol of the sacred deer killed by Iphigenia's father. They ran footraces in tribute to the plight of the animal, but in the end, sacrificed it and held a great feast.

Melaina worried all day, and not only for her mother or the fate of her homeland. Her short conversation with Kynthia had infected her with a quick-growing discontent. She lost interest in thoughts of marriage that occupied the other girls and that had been the thrust of their training at Brauron. She wanted one thing more than anything else: the freedom to choose her own life. She wondered anew about her girlfriends, Agido and Anaktoria, back at Eleusis. Melaina was the oldest, and her mind was fast formulating a plan to remain among them.

Melaina watched for her mother, glancing up the sanctuary road for a trail of dust, and listened for the clop of horses' hooves, rattle of carriage wheels. She searched the faces of the other girls' mothers, but the priestess of Demeter from Eleusis wasn't among them.

That night was to be the finale of the Brauronia, the Night of the Bear. At sunset, the initiates and priestesses gathered just outside the temple before a barred, cliff-side cave where an adult she-bear nervously paced. One priestess played the aulos, a double-reed wind instrument, and another, the lyre. The initiates donned bear masks, formed choruses to sing elegies to Iphigenia, and then joined hands to dance before the caged beast. Soon the wildness of their young hearts would also be caged within the homes of their husbands, a thought that flashed anger in Melaina. The patter of the girls' tender feet set the rhythm, and they twirled and shook their hair in defiance at the caged she-bear as her roars sent shivers through them.

As darkness encroached, the girls gathered in the temple to meet death. Melaina worried about her she-goat. She'd selected her months ago, having chosen this particular animal because of her feisty, independent nature, the way the little she-goat stood off from the crowd and made a run at Melaina when she tried to corner her. But Melaina had tamed her, and now the goat trailed along behind her on a leash. The temple was crowded with animals: rabbits racing along the floor, doves fluttering in and out of torchlight. Melaina watched the she-bear pace inside her cage.

As female family members gathered to view the proceedings, Melaina scanned them. What could have happened to her mother? Melaina's feet still ached from running barefoot, her sunburned legs and shoulders tingling under her saffron chiton.

Melaina heard Kynthia call her from among the scores of initiates. She'd be the first to sacrifice. She was the oldest and, as an Eumolpid, from an aristocratic family. As Melaina stepped forward, Kynthia donned a bear mask and slipped a bear-claw glove over her right hand. Kynthia dropped the upper part of Melaina's chiton to expose her right breast and, without warning, sliced the claw rapidly across it just above the nipple. Melaina flinched, screamed, as beads of bright blood formed.

Scattered laughter came from the crowd.

Brandishing a shiny bronze blade, Kynthia led Melaina to the slaughter stone. Melaina sprinkled her she-goat with holy water and watched her shiver, an assumed sign of assent. Kynthia put the blade to the animal's throat while the chorus broke out in a hymn, faltered, then fell silent. A clamor had erupted from behind the temple. Melaina heard shouting, the clash of steel. Kynthia removed the mask and stepped away from Melaina, stood silent.

A stranger raced into the temple, carrying a knife. As Kynthia froze in fear, the she-bear rose on her hind legs and let loose a bloodcurdling roar. The soldier from Eleusis, who'd been shadowing the sanctuary, rushed into the fray but was immediately cut down by two more strangers. The man with the knife came for Melaina, and she felt her knees weaken, saw the world fade.

Kynthia stepped in front of Melaina and struggled with the man, showing more strength than Melaina could have imagined. It appeared as though Kynthia might even wrest the knife from him, when she went limp, cut down by a single stroke, the knife buried deep in the small of her neck.

Screams, a flurry of doves, and scurrying rabbits sent the temple into chaos. Melaina felt the assailant's steel fingers wrap her arm as several Greek soldiers charged into the battle. Leading them was a fierce-looking man in heavy armor, who shouted, and when her captor hesitated, grabbed him from behind and slit his throat in one swift motion. Still more blood gushed onto the altar.

The man lay gurgling out his life in wordless mouthings as light faded from his eyes. Kynthia breathed laboriously beneath him. Melaina was struck dumb, but gathered herself and rushed to the priestess, who with each raspy breath brought forth crimson froth. Kynthia's wound emptied in a slow stream, mixing with that of her murderer who lay between her legs. The two were a strange couple, mated by their simultaneous deaths on the altar of Artemis.

Melaina looked up at the man who'd saved her life as he ripped off his bronze helmet. His curly black hair was tied in a ponytail and held in place by a bright-red headband. He was the Dadouchos, a priest from Eleusis. What is he doing here? she wondered. No sooner had this thought crossed her mind than he grabbed her hair and pulled her head backward.

Melaina realized he'd just exposed her throat. To murder me also, here on the altar, she thought. The world has gone insane, and I'm also to be a victim. He again raised his knife to strike, and as she brought her hand to her throat in a final act of defense, the color drained from the world again.

But the blade's stroke only tingled her scalp, and the blond lock loosed into his hand. He held aloft the knife in one hand, her golden curls in the other as he dropped to one knee. The she-bear let forth another mighty roar, followed by the Dadouchos' voice ringing throughout the temple.

"Artemis! frenzy-loving huntress, goddess of all things wild. Among the din and cry of beasts these two have given their lives, willingly or no, so this tender virgin may die as maid and be reborn as woman. Accept them as her sacrifice. Divine virgin, dear goddess of swift birth, receive this initiate, offspring of this gruesome delivery, to thy bosom."

He raised Melaina to her feet, her knees quivering. "Quickly!" he said. "We must leave, now."

"Why did you do this to me?" she said, feeling the bald spot in her scalp cut so close he'd drawn blood. "Look what you've done." She felt he had purposely terrorized her.

The Dadouchos shouted to the startled crowd of initiates and onlookers who'd scurried for cover behind the marble columns. "Everyone! Listen to me! You must vacate the temple. Danger stalks us all. My men just scattered a larger band of Persians in back of the temple. They'll return when they find their courage. Yesterday, to the north at Thermopylae, the Persians routed the Hellene forces under Leonidas. Attica is under siege and must be evacuated. Leave everything and make for Athens."

He said again to Melaina, "Follow me! Quickly!"

She ran after him to a grove of trees outside the sanctuary where a lone man stood restraining a team of four black horses harnessed to a two-wheeled chariot. Nearby, another horse stood reined to a tree. Melaina realized she had none of her possessions and bolted back toward the temple. The Dadouchos shouted after her, but she pulled her chiton to her knees and raced madly on.

At the dormitory, she entered the dark room she'd shared with the other girls and quickly rummaged among her things. She felt her own tears fall onto her hands. The image of Kynthia giving up her blood on the altar stood between Melaina and everything she saw. How would Kynthia get to the Underworld without proper burial?

She discarded the terra-cotta figurines, a bear and a likeness of Artemis, but clutched tightly to her heart a small bundle of papyrus bound with leather straps. "Oh Sappho!" she cried. She stuffed them into a leather sack along with a two-reed aulos just as the Dadouchos entered the room, huffing and fuming.

"You've put all our lives at risk," he said. "Have your senses abandoned you?"

Melaina hoisted the bag to her shoulder and walked past him, but a dark Persian stood before her, blocking the doorway. His sword thrust was aimed at her heart, but the Dadouchos' naked hand brushed it aside, and once more he slew her would-be assassin, his quick blade opening the man's abdomen so that his entrails poured forth.

The Dadouchos pushed her out the door, and they hurried back through fading light into the deep shadows of the grove. There he spoke quickly to the young man holding the team of horses, and the Dadouchos and his charge climbed aboard the chariot. The carriage, supported on two six-spoked wheels, was made of carefully shaped wood, overlaid with leather and gated at the aft end. The glistening gold railing came to her waist. The floor was soft but steady, formed of interlaced leather thongs. It was empty except for a deerskin blanket carelessly cast inside.

A flickering light fell on the grove, and Melaina looked back to see flames licking the sanctuary roof. She heard shouts, women screaming. People poured from the temple.

"The Persians have returned!" shouted the Dadouchos. "But for the maiden, more blood would flow from my sword." He grabbed a coiled whip from the front of the chariot and cracked it over the horses' heads. "Forward!"

The chariot lurched, almost throwing Melaina from it. She shouted into his ear as they entered the dirt road west, "They'll all die if we don't help."

"My cargo is more important than all of Brauron, and more danger lies between here and Athens. I've orders from the Hierophant to return you to Eleusis."

"But my mother! We must find her."

The Dadouchos cracked the whip over the horses' heads, and the chariot squeaked and groaned as they flew into the deepening night, her protests silenced by the thunderous hooves of the four ink-black horses. A great sadness enveloped Melaina. Kynthia dead, and what had happened to Theodora? Where was her mother?

CHAPTER 4: Flight in Darkness

On they sped pulled by demons into darkness, full moon casting pale light for the horses. As the moon disappeared behind a thick bank of clouds, the chariot slowed, and the young man, who'd held the horses in the grove, came alongside and talked briefly to the Dadouchos. He called the Dadouchos by name, Kallias. Melaina repeated it to herself. "Kallias." She felt her raw scalp, and her anger grew.

The rider lit a torch and went on ahead, holding it high, hair glowing in the light. Sparks streamed behind. The silhouettes of the four horses rose and fell against the flame. At times, the rider would guide them around a boulder or hold the torch while they negotiated an erosion channel. The wheels frequently fell into ruts cut by years of wagon use, and the chariot slithered through.

Melaina tried to soften her anger at Kallias. He'd saved her life, twice. Instead of her she-goat, two people had died. She was now supposed to be grown, a woman, but she felt smaller and less significant than ever.

*

Melaina jolted from her daze. The rider stopped and came back to the chariot, motioned for Kallias to get out and follow him. Kallias tied the reins to a tree, and the two disappeared into the brush up the hillside. Melaina developed a chill, and the night noises frightened her. Soon, Kallias and the young man came running back. They led the horses off the road into a grove of trees, stopping to listen.

"Horsemen," Kallias whispered. "Probably friendly, but..."

After dousing the torch, they calmed the horses, silencing their snorts with hands held over the horse's noses. Kallias put two of them in Melaina's charge, and she felt soothed by their warmth, the velvet-soft nostrils. Her heart pounded, but she focused on the sounds of crickets, the rustling wind in treetops, and hugged the long bony heads to her.

Hearing faint voices from the road, Melaina made out her native tongue.

Kallias said, "I know one of them." He stepped from their hideaway. "Hey! Kimon, by the gods, is that you, man?"

The horsemen's torch extinguished and all went quiet.

"It's Kallias, Kimon. Have you forgotten your old boar-hunting companion?"

The response was slow in coming and little more than a whisper. "Kallias? That you? Or some daemon calling us to our doom?"

Kallias stepped forward to greet them, lowering his voice to match theirs. The young man traveling with Kallias relit the torch, and she saw not two but four men traveling together. After a few words, Kallias motioned for the young man to join them. Melaina, now alone, was grateful for the stout presence of the horses. Shortly Kallias and the young man returned.

"I'll not deceive you, Melaina," said Kallias. "Two of these men are from Paiania, a village not far ahead. They were trying to get home but ran into a band of Persians and Thebans blocking the road. These men turned back, not realizing the countryside behind us also swarms with the enemy. We've but one hope: come upon them swiftly, catch them asleep, and pass through their camp before they know what's happened."

Melaina avoided his eyes. He was the most muscular man she'd ever seen, arms bulging from his sleeveless tunic. She hoped he hadn't noticed she was trembling.

"These men are joining us," he said, leading the horses from the grove. "You'll lie low in the chariot wrapped in the deer skin." He mounted the chariot and turned to her again. "Under no circumstances are you to raise your head above the railing. Do you hear me, Melaina?"

She finally managed a weak, "Yes."

They groped by the light of the full moon as it peeked from behind clouds. Melaina tried to calm herself by thinking hard thoughts toward traitorous Thebes. The ancient city was north of Eleusis, opposite Mt. Kithaeron, and a natural enemy since the time of Oedipus. But she'd never imagined that the Thebans would side with Persia. Each moment seemed interminable. She hardly breathed, expecting the Persians to descend upon them at any moment. Still, on they went without being molested, horses' hooves clattering a steady beat.

Their five companions in the lead slowed. "Persian camp ahead," one whispered back.

A loud voice erupted from up the road, sliced sharply through the cold night air. "Halt! Identify yourself!"

Kallias cracked the whip. "Ha!" he shouted, and the chariot lurched forward.

Melaina sunk to the floor and covered herself with the deerskin, peeking from a frayed edge. She was thrown about until she was sure all her bones would be broken. As they came into the torchlight, a great commotion erupted in the Persian camp. Barking dogs and the bray of a donkey mixed with shouts of the barbarians.

The chariot took a shattering blow to its undercarriage as fire exploded around them. Looking back, Melaina saw they'd overrun the campfire. But the horses reared up, pawing skyward and bringing the chariot to a standstill. A foul stench hung in the air.

Melaina could resist no longer. She raised her head and looked beyond the horses at a sight she couldn't believe was real. Something, perhaps an animal, rose up before them, a huge deformed beast not born of anything earth-walking, and staggered into the road. It was as if the great god Pan himself had appeared to inspire panic in the horses. Melaina's scream escaped before she could suppress it. Kallias plied the lash to the stallions, cursed them unmercifully.

The chariot lurched forward as the horses regained their courage under the stinging whip. A rain of arrows and spears descended on the carriage. As they swept past the hovering shape, Melaina ducked back below the rail just as a spear penetrated the sideboard, ripped into the deerskin and lodged in the carriage's opposite side. Melaina's head hit the rail with such force that she momentarily went senseless, the pain in her side so great she thought the spear had dealt her a fatal blow.

As the chariot cleared the Persian camp, Melaina, lodged beneath Kallias' feet, was kicked, beaten about and stepped on. The once-proud horses regained their wits on the far side of the foul beast and, manes flowing, hunkered down to the business of putting it behind them. Persian torches gradually dropped from sight.

When they were in the clear, Kallias reined in the horses and called the others to him. "We may have lost the maiden," he said, his voice without its usual strength.

Melaina thought he might be right, but her groans and complaints at having being trampled on were welcomed with cheers and smiling faces. After they extracted the spear from the chariot and released the deerskin pinning her against the sideboard, she could finally breathe. Except for her throbbing head and some bruised ribs, she was sound. Her saffron chiton, on the other hand, had been penetrated front to back, which caused the men to murmur. "Eyie!" said one.

"Wasn't the Persians that frightened me," said Melaina, "but the fell beast."

"You sons of a mountain goat," Kallias said, turning on the men from Paiania. "Why didn't you tell me about the camel?"

"We didn't know. As Iris, the Oathgiver, is our witness," said Kimon.

"No horse can endure the sight or smell of a camel. We could've died."

"What's a camel?" asked Melaina.

The young man traveling with Kallias walked off laughing, causing Melaina to blush at her own ignorance.

Kallias shook his head at the young man. "A poet with a strange sense of humor."

So the quiet young man is a poet, Melaina thought. This pleased her no end.

Satisfied they were all in one piece, the group proceeded, without light, the terrain gradually becoming more mountainous, the forest crowding in on the road. They entered a village, and the road disappeared into a maze of dark, abandoned streets. A barking dog came to greet them. The men talked among themselves, then Kallias came to Melaina. "This is Paiania," he said. "We were to stop here, but it's deserted. We'll go on to Phlya."

The weary riders passed through the village, again braking out onto the open road. Just when Melaina wondered if they'd ever stop, at the foot of a mountain thrusting up into the stars, the chariot took a less-traveled trail north. "We're beneath Mt. Hymettos, sacred to Zeus," Kallias told her. "Soon we'll be at the farm of Mnesarchides."

The trail steepened up the foot of the mountain, and they picked their way through deep woods, which finally opened onto a clearing where the light of a home shone as a beacon. The stone building sat on a moonlit hilltop. Kimon and his three companions went before them, at times trading shouts with sentries. The black stallions whinnied at the workhorses pulling wagons stacked high with goods, which were on their way to Athens and the coast.

As the chariot drew closer to the home, Melaina saw that the place swarmed with people. Bonfires twinkled in the surrounding forest, and she saw a herd of horses, fully loaded wagons and oxen, fellow refugees sleeping in bedrolls. A baby cried.

The chariot pulled up before the stone building. At first she thought the men milling about were slaves, but some sported a hoplite's heavy armor. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. They were warriors. An army was encamped here.

As the riders dismounted, several men came to meet them, some to help with the horses, others to escort them inside. Women stared, whispered among themselves. Melaina overheard one say, "I tell you, it's her. The other is inside. Prophecies speak of the return of the two goddesses."

Melaina cowered under the women's scrutiny.

Kallias, with Melaina trailing behind, entered a large foyer through huge double gates that swung wide. Kimon followed, but the others remained with the horses. Melaina was disappointed that the poet who'd blazed their trail for them hadn't come with them. She'd wanted to get a good look at his face.

Slaves carried sacks of grain from storerooms lining the foyer and stacked them into wagons. Others carried clay jars. At the far side of the foyer, the large double doors into the heart of the home opened and closed on squeaking hinges, but Melaina was not to enter this area. Kallias took Melaina by the arm and led her to a side room through a small door to the left. As he pulled it open, bright light and voices spilled out. They were engulfed by the smell of food.

Just inside the women's room, the mistress of the house turned to inspect them, her stern face set hard as stone. The townswomen ate alongside their children. The room fell silent as all eyes fell upon them. The refugees' belongings were piled high along the walls: clothes, bedding, carpets, chests. The women turned back to eating, and the din returned.

Melaina felt uncomfortable as the stocky, heavy-set mistress scrutinized her. Though of no mean stature herself as the wife of a wealthy landowner, the woman was obviously transfixed by Melaina's presence.

Kallias and Kimon disappeared through the far doorway, but Melaina stayed put. She knew her place in the world of men. Still, she felt abandoned among all these strangers. Fortunately, the mistress came to her instantly, folded Melaina's small hands within her own chubby ones, and pulled them to her warm midriff as if they were precious. She led Melaina into a corner, where a sullen little boy with heavy eyelids sat on a carpet, pillows stacked about him.

"Are you injured, my dear?" the woman asked Melaina. "I administer to those who'll allow a woman."

Melaina blushed scarlet. She hadn't noticed that Kynthia had shed blood on her, but there it was, the spray of scarlet drops, now black, speckling her saffron chiton. The mark of the bear's claw across her breast had also soaked through. With one side of her head nearly bald as well, it was no wonder she attracted so much attention.

"No," answered Melaina, "just tired and sore."

"I'll give you something to lift your spirits, soothe aching bones." This large woman kept staring at Melaina. "May I ask your name?"

"Melaina, from Eleusis."

The woman relaxed, smiled, handed Melaina a steaming posset in a tiny clay cup. "I'm Kleito," she said. "Your mother and I were childhood friends, before we each married. And now the war has brought us back together. We've been anticipating your arrival. This pest is my little Euripides."

The little boy climbed into Melaina's lap, burying his head in her bosom.

"Drink slowly," Kleito said, "and conceal it from the others. The recipe is said to have come down to us from the centaur Chiron, who invented it to heal the wounds of warriors."

Melaina smelled the posset, spiced milk curdled with hot wine. Its taste sent a warm glow through her. Euripides moved about restlessly. Holding him was an unexpected comfort, even if his sharp-edged limbs poked into her tender ribs. His little body was as warm as glowing coals. He held a waxed tablet and stylus in his tiny hands and had scratched the first letters of the alphabet: α, β, and γ. The posset, beginning to do its work, Melaina relaxed and drifted toward sleep along with Euripides. Then Kleito spoke again.

"Your mother is here. Did you know?"

Melaina's eyes fluttered open, and she jumped to her feet, wondering if she'd heard correctly. Just then, Kallias returned. "Follow me," he urged, leading Melaina down a hallway to a chamber of solemn men, who mumbled over a meal. Melaina saw mounds of cheese and barley cakes, boiled pigs' feet, lambs' legs, ripe olives and leeks, morsels of underdone entrails. Oh, she loved sweet entrails!

A shout rose up from amidst the din, and a woman rushed toward Melaina. It was Myrrhine, her mother. Myrrhine came out of the room and reached for Melaina, her hands all over the girl's face and limbs as if to check for the source of all the blood. "You look like a lamb led to slaughter," her mother said.

CHAPTER 5: The War Council

Myrrhine had left home for Brauron the day before news broke of the Spartan defeat at Thermopylae. With the evacuation of Attica, the road east had been blocked at the foot of Mt. Hymettos. Realizing she couldn't get through, Myrrhine had sought refuge at the home of an old friend, Kleito, wife of Mnesarchides, and sent an overnight runner to the Hierophant at Eleusis telling him of her predicament. She asked that the Hierophant immediately retrieve Melaina. If he didn't, surely Melaina would be killed. Myrrhine had known nothing of her daughter's fate until she saw Melaina outside the banquet chamber with Kallias.

Myrrhine squeezed her daughter until the girl squirmed to free herself.

"My ribs are sore, mother."

"Why all the blood?"

Myrrhine listened to her daughter describe the events that occurred during the initiation, held her when she cried over Kynthia's death and her uncertainty at the fate of little Theodora.

"I also have so much to tell you, Melaina, things I couldn't before. The months you were away in Brauron seem years."

But Myrrhine didn't have time to elaborate. Kallias reappeared. He dragged them both inside the dining hall where a hastily organized council of generals was in progress. Hestia's hearth burned in the corner to the far right, flames licking high into the air through a hole in the ceiling.

One of the men was on his feet speaking. Myrrhine whispered in her daughter's ear, "He's Xanthippus, an Athenian general." Myrrhine wondered how Kimon would handle being in the presence of Xanthippus, as the general had sent Kimon's father to prison where the old man had died. Xanthippus was a short but broad man, deep-chested. His voice was quiet, and so the room fell silent under the soft swiftness of his words.

"... though defeated at the Hot Gates, we've learned a valuable lesson: how to fight Persians on land. Our fleet at Artemisium also proved it could hold its own at sea even when badly outnumbered. We've looked into the enemy's jaws and found his teeth dull, heard his roar, and found it less than frightening. Xerxes won a battle, but planted the seeds of his own destruction."

Myrrhine noticed that the men appeared restless, their eyes trained on Melaina's bloody chiton. Another man rose to interrupt Xanthippus. Myrrhine whispered in her daughter's ear, "That's Mnesarchides, Kleito's husband."

"Enough, Xanthippus," Mnesarchides said. "Kallias, richest of Athenians, has returned from Brauron, and by the looks of the maiden, though she be blood-splattered, his mission was a success. Torchbearer, what word do you bring from the coast?"

"Grim news," said Kallias, stepping forward. "But also an account of events forecasting great promise." The tie binding his hair had broken, and his black mane fell in ringlets to his shoulders, glistening against his ashen skin. "I've indeed retrieved unharmed the maid of Eleusis, out of the very hands of Persians. Only moments after I reached the temple of Artemis at Brauron, a band of Persians, who'd come by sea, tried to assassinate her. I witnessed the priestess of the temple trade her own life for this little priestess. Kynthia lies dead, the temple overrun. The five warriors I took with me are also dead. Last we saw, the temple was in flames. We barely escaped with our own lives."

Voices erupted, men turned to look at one another. "Great Zeus! Brauron burned, Kynthia dead. What's to become of us?"

"This knife," Kallias drew his own dagger, held it high for all to see, "took the life of two Persian assassins. I tell you, this is an omen of no small import. My own eyes witnessed the courage of this young woman, felt small standing beside her though I killed those who would have killed her. In the face of certain death, she stood her ground as did her father, Kynegeiros, at Marathon. Alas, that he died there! And all this yet but preparation for witnessing how the gods cherish her. Perhaps Kynegeiros himself watches over her, for during our brief encounter with the Persians just outside the gates of Paiania, a Persian spear pierced her through, but now she bears no wound from it. The holes in her chiton are there for all to see."

Myrrhine considered Kallias' words about her daughter, realizing his talent for hyperbole, yet the crowd listened trance-like. "Kallias," said one, "we haven't had such a favorable sign since the great god Pan was seen in the Peloponnese voicing his support for us at Marathon."

Kallias finished with a flourish. "School yourself in this young woman's courage! If the warriors of Hellas have half her mettle, we can defeat the Persians, no matter their numbers."

The chamber fell silent, all eyes transfixed on Melaina. Myrrhine saw her daughter blush deeply.

Xanthippus rose again. "Word that the Persians are burning our temples is of concern but not unexpected. Perhaps Hellas' salvation will come from divine outrage. No one could have foretold that long-dead Theseus would return to lead us at Marathon. Let us hope a new savior will deliver us this time."

Myrrhine felt a tug at her sleeve. "When can I eat?" Melaina whispered. "Will they never stop talking?"

Mnesarchides again rose to halt Xanthippus' monologue. "Kimon, tell us of your return from the southland. We, who remained behind to execute the evacuation, have been in sore need of your counsel. What can you tell us of our friends at Cape Sounion?"

Kimon was a great presence, heavier than Kallias but with the same dark countenance. He spoke with authority, emphasizing his words with a sweep of the arm, yet still projecting humility. His face was flushed from wine, and Myrrhine noticed that he never looked in the direction of Xanthippus. "My tale is much the same as Kallias'. Two Persian warships put ashore at Cape Sounion and quickly overran the temple of Poseidon. Before we were forced to flee north, we saw the nearby silver mines at Laurium fall to Xerxes. Zeus has turned his back on us for now." Having given his message, Kimon stepped back among the crowd for someone else to speak, but stepped forward again. "One more thing," he said. "I've spoken to those who've been behind Persian lines. They talk of Xerxes hiding his dead from his own men. Xerxes doubts himself, if I read it rightly."

Mnesarchides rose. "Perhaps Xerxes fears our will to fight as Leonidas and his men demonstrated at Thermopylae." He turned away from Kimon. "Kallias, I know your mission is urgent. During the priestess of Demeter's short stay with us," he looked toward Myrrhine, "I've learned of the Hierophant's concern for all Hellas should the Mysteries, only three weeks away, suffer neglect. Your word of this hearty but tender young woman certainly gives us courage. How could we expect less of the daughter of Kynegeiros? We'd hoped to catch a night's rest and depart tomorrow, but now see we must take what's packed and make our getaway before the pass closes. We'll detain you no longer, except for a libation and prayer from the priestess of Demeter before leaving."

Myrrhine noticed the muscles of Kallias' jaw tighten. After all, he was a priest and could have performed the ritual himself. She decided that her prayer would be to Kallias' divine ancestor, Hermes, from whom all Kallias' family of Kerkyes descended. Myrrhine pushed her daughter away, though the girl groaned at the separation, and walked toward Xanthippus. She received a cup of wine from him, averted her eyes to avoid contact, then splashed the altar stone with the red liquid and raised her arms.

"Hermes, guide of souls in the Underworld, protector of travelers; all who meet here tonight journey the road to death. Though for some it will come soon, others later, we are all yours. O Argeiphontes, father of lies and thieves, give false prophecies to the Persians and loot their courage. Grant us a safe journey home and strength for the dark days before us. Grant this and ever we'll roast glistening fat and thick thigh pieces in your honor."

As soon as her prayer ended, a long-haired slave boy approached and set a bowl of mint-scented water before Xanthippus, who dipped his hands, then dried them in the slave's hair. Another slave brought baskets bulging with barley bread, Demeter's gift—steaming loaves lofting mingled smells of yeast and honey. Platters of hot food soon crowded the table, and men tore apart great loaves, using the pieces to scoop stew.

The three of them left the room, and Mnesarchides followed. He and Kleito begged Myrrhine and Melaina to join them at their other home on Salamis after evacuating Eleusis. But Kallias, in his hurry, ushered them outside into the dark as Melaina protested her hunger.

"Quit whining," said Kallias. "You can eat at journey's end."

Melaina snatched a small loaf as the group left the room.

The young man, who'd come with Kallias and Melaina, was waiting alongside the chariot. The high-stepping horses, looking refreshed after being watered and fed, anxiously pawed the ground and rattled their bridles.

Kimon burst out the door to join their party. "If I stay behind with Xanthippus so close by, I'll kill him," he said. "Ever the call to avenge my father's death plagues me."

Myrrhine sympathized with Kimon. Her own husband had served and died at Marathon under Kimon's father, Miltiades. Yet a few years later, Xanthippus had had the victorious general imprisoned, where he died of gangrene from an unhealed wound. She wondered what would become of them if the generals themselves hated each other. She looked west where the glow from Athens lit the horizon. The great city hadn't slept either. The chariot was crowded with the three of them, oaken axle creaking under the weight. Kimon and the young man went in the lead ahead of the chariot.

Myrrhine held her daughter to her, and they slumped to the floorboard behind the Dadouchos. Slow-flowing time drifted by with the darkness.

*

Gradually came the dawn, and with it wagons, horses, sheep, goats and the people driving them along the narrow roadway to Athens. Behind them in the distance, wisps of smoke trailed skyward. When the sun broke the horizon, they entered the outskirts of Athens, where they learned of the overnight evacuation of its citizens, who embarked to Troezen on the Peloponnese coast, and the islands Salamis and Aegina. Myrrhine knew that many slaves and men of great age would have to stay behind. All could not be saved. The howls of homeless dogs echoed the countryside.

They stopped momentarily at a small township Myrrhine recognized as Kolonus. Kimon departed from them, taking a road to the west, and the young man dismounted, racing inside a smithy from which issued a great clang of hammers. She saw a statue of a horseman and heard a nightingale trill a clear note over the green glade. Soon they were back on the road.

Kallias skirted Athens' city walls, then turned west along the Sacred Way, shouting and cracking his whip at those who failed to step aside. Foamy sweat laced the backs of the horses though they never slacked their pace. They swept past wagons piled high with household goods, prized rubble stacked in rickety hand-carts pulled by pitiful men and women, their poverty-gripped lives having been wrested from them. The rush of people to the sea became a flowing river of desperation.

Myrrhine realized that Athens was gone. She had a vision of great Ares, god of war, awakening from a ten-year slumber, rising above the landscape, irritable, bloodthirsty. She wondered about the strange occurrences during Melaina's initiation. If what Kallias said was right, Melaina's salvation had come in true Artemis fashion. The goddess had given her own priestess for Melaina. Perhaps a recent prophecy was also true. The oracle had come from the three priestesses at Dodona, who read the words of Zeus in the rustle of an old oak's leaves:

When all is lost and the smoke of great cities  
darkens the bright passage of Helios' chariot  
across the heavens so even those of great courage  
whimper and cower in corners, the two  
who are one will again take on mortal form  
and walk among us. They will stand firm in the face  
of great danger, against the barbarian's yoke.

They realized the "two who are one" must be Demeter and Kore, the two goddesses of the Mysteries. Still, during these restless times, prophecies swept through cities and villages like summer dust devils. One could pick and choose to suit the circumstance.

Myrrhine squeezed Melaina to her. She was so young, not yet fifteen. But in the time Melaina had been away, she'd changed, developed new confidence. Myrrhine now saw a hard look in her daughter's eyes, a loss of innocence. Oh, how she looked forward to hearing Melaina's voice echoing again in the halls of Eleusis.

Kallias' bare leg brushed against Myrrhine's arm, and she looked up at him. This was the closest she'd been to a man since her husband had died. This man's remoteness and countenance matched some dark place inside herself, where she'd put all her feelings toward men. With her daughter in her arms and a man so close, memories of her husband surfaced, and her body welcomed the opportunity to be its old self, hands tingling with the memory of sliding along a broad shoulder, down a hairy arm. She swallowed, realizing this man was her own age. Kynegeiros had been much older.

She'd heard sordid things about Kallias, that he'd taken his fortune from a Persian during the battle of Marathon. As the story went, the man mistook Kallias for a king because he dressed as the Dadouchos. The man had shown him the treasure to buy his life. They say Kallias killed him anyway to hide the source of his wealth. Myrrhine didn't believe it. Jealousy drove many to speak ill of the rich. Even though his family descended from Hermes, divine thief and murderer, she couldn't believe it of Kallias. She only knew he'd fought beside her beloved Kynegeiros and spoke nothing but praise of her husband's bravery. She felt a great kindness toward him because of it. And now he'd taken Kynegeiros' place and saved her daughter's life. She not only thought well of him; with his body so close, a woman's longing passed through her. But guilt came quickly, an old bitter companion. "Forgive me, Kynegeiros," she whispered.

As she held Melaina in her arms, she felt her daughter quake. Was this the return of an illness so frightening that years ago she'd not told even the Hierophant? She shielded her daughter's face with her own cape. Kallias mustn't see.

Melaina convulsed in Myrrhine's arms, limbs rigid, foam appearing in the corners of her mouth. Myrrhine shoved her fingers between Melaina's teeth to protect her tongue, ignoring the pain of her gnawing. Oh, divine Demeter! Not the falling sickness! Ten years before, when Melaina was first told of her father's death, Myrrhine found her little girl in the midst of a seizure on the ground before the Gates of Hades.

*

Myrrhine felt her daughter shudder in her arms, wake. Myrrhine smiled down at her, realizing Melaina knew nothing of the terrible tremor that had seized her while sleeping. The thunder of the horses' hooves filled Myrrhine's ears, and she watched the morning sun paint a warm glow on Melaina's cheeks as they approached the outskirts of Eleusis.

The chariot filled the sanctuary with dust as it came to a stop just inside the Greater Propylaea. Slaves rushed to assist, two men for the horses and a long line of women for the priestess and her daughter. As they exited the chariot, the Hierophant appeared in the gateway. Myrrhine had never seen her father look so old, and his face now carried a worried shadow. Melaina ran to him, throwing her arms about his waist. Myrrhine heard her daughter ask, "Who's the young man who accompanied us here?"

"Who?" asked the Hierophant.

"Him, the tall, bronze young man."

"That's Sophocles," her grandfather said.

CHAPTER 6: Return to Eleusis

The Archon Basileus in Athens canceled the Mysteries without consultation. The Hierophant was bewildered. "They hold the Olympics but cancel the human race? Oh, for the days when Eleusis was its own independent state! Why do we have to subject the Mysteries to Athens' arbitrariness and political squabbling?"

Melaina heard Kallias sorely complain of not being in Olympia himself, having been recalled at the last moment to retrieve her from Brauron. His four black stallions had been the favorite in the chariot race. The Olympics were in progress even as the Persians murdered, pillaged, and burned throughout Attica.

Still, the Hierophant resisted evacuating Eleusis, and the city awaited its fate as the fires to the west grew closer, refugees streaming past to the Peloponnese. Not all planned to pass through, and the poorer of them, seeing the temple of Demeter as the ultimate refuge, brought their sheep, goats and cows onto temple grounds. The Hierophant couldn't bear turning them away, and still refused to evacuate.

The uncertainty created was whispered throughout the city. "The old man has lost his wits," said some. "Patience, he knows the will of the gods," said others. The poorer residents and slaves, those who could escape their masters, loaded their possessions into wagons, and took refuge in Corinthia beyond the Isthmus. The rich had more at stake. They congregated in the streets and shouted at one another, laughing at their neighbor's indecisiveness and crying over their own.

*

Melaina heard the Hierophant's booming voice echoing down the hall. She crept closer. He and Aeschylus were at each other's throats over the evacuation, again. Aeschylus had been at Artemisium with the Greek fleet and claimed better judgment of the situation. "All Attica is deserted. Why not Eleusis?"

"Evacuate the town if you wish, but not the sacred quarter or temple of Demeter," was the Hierophant's steadfast response. "Delphi stood its ground even when the Persians entered the nearby sanctuary of Athena Pronaia. Apollo defended his own, hurling boulders until the Persians panicked and fled. Even Kallias, though he pulled all his possessions from Athens, hasn't stripped his home here. We're still gathering the harvest. We'll continue stockpiling fruit and grain until Xerxes is on our doorstep. We'll never survive if we lose the entire crop."

"You're working for Xerxes. He'll take it all."

"You talk of Xerxes pillaging and burning all in his path, but refugees passing through Eleusis tell me a different story. Xerxes is showing considerable restraint in Boeotia and Attica. I've heard scattered reports of burned temples, Brauron is definitely one, but most still stand. Even looting is sporadic. And Xerxes hasn't burned Athens."

Melaina heard Aeschylus storm out, and ran to the hilltop to watch him catch a boat to Salamis to rejoin the fleet. She felt uneasy herself, having experienced Persian wrath firsthand.

*

All Eleusis lived in the shadow of the great temple of Demeter, and Melaina's home was within the nearby semi-sacred quarter where the priests lived. Having spent her entire life—until the months at Brauron—at Eleusis, she hadn't realized the luxury of her own home. Just outside the large double doors stood the herm, a boundary pillar topped by Hermes' head and bearing an erect phallus, a male watchdog to ward off intruders. The Hall of Men was just inside the double doors: a courtyard lined with separate chambers spread in a vista of bronze-paneled walls with azure moldings. A colonnade stood in the center, enclosing a small altar of Zeus Herkeïos, protector of the home. The women, and Melaina in particular as the young mistress of the house, were permitted in this hall only rarely, and then when no strangers were present.

The doors at the far end of this courtyard opened into the great dining hall where golden pedestals held aloft bright torches of pitch pine. Great chairs lined the walls strewn with fine embroidery made by slave women under her mother's close instruction. This was where, in evenings of days long passed, her father had stalked about extolling the virtues of this philosophy or that to his enthroned dinner guests. Melaina's dim memories of her father were of him in this great hall during the evening, and of a singer of Homer's great poems come to charm them and their friends.

Hidden away in one corner of the courtyard was a small chamber for storing papyrus scrolls. This was her grandfather's library of ancient writings. Melaina had always loved lounging on the floor, a scroll spread before her. Early on, her mother had taught her to read, and Melaina thrived on it, studying Homer's ancient texts of the Trojan War, Odysseus' wanderings, and stories of Agamemnon's daughters, Iphigenia and Electra. In particular, Melaina studied the ancient book of prophecy called the Sibylline Oracles. Melaina had a great interest in the future and thought seercraft a magnificent profession. She read the tragedies of her Uncle Aeschylus along with many others. Her grandfather delighted to see that Melaina was such a scholar and questioned her from time to time, marveling at her capacity for learning. "What an odd little girl," he'd say. In the minds of Greek men, intelligence in females was a rarity.

Her mother's bedchamber, which she'd shared with Melaina's father until his death, occupied the space to one side of the dining hall. That of the Hierophant was directly opposed.

Through another set of bronze-plated doors stood the Hall of Women and another pillared courtyard. Here, daily, twenty maids sat around the mill grinding grain, or weaving upon their looms and twirling distaffs. These women were as skillful at weaving, as were the men of Eleusis in ship navigation. Their wool-hardened hands were a constant blur of activity. As with the Hall of Men, the women's rooms lined the periphery of this great hall. There, Melaina took possession of her new sleeping quarters.

Until she left for Brauron, Melaina had slept in her mother's large chamber, rolled up on a small cot in the corner. Her efforts toward her dowry, she kept at the foot of her bed. This consisted of woven quilts, blankets, rugs, and her formal attire. Since her return, though, she'd slept in her own chamber just inside the bronze doors, the only room in the Hall of Women with a window to the outside, providing a sunlit airiness during the day and giving her a sense of insecurity at night.

Her receipt of the room from her mother was accomplished with a private ceremony. Through the years Melaina had known it as a strong room, closed and locked by a sliding timber. Once opened, her mother revealed the reason for the security: it contained Melaina's inherited dowry. Though Melaina had never known it to be open, the room had been immaculately kept, no speck of dust allowed to fall on the treasures within. Her mother revealed what her father had hoped one day to say himself, that his mother had left her own dowry in his care, trusting to fate that one day he would have a daughter. And indeed a treasure it was: finely embroidered tapestries and delicately woven carpets were stacked about, some woven with fine threads of gold.

"I'm a Eumolpid," her mother told Melaina, "as was your father, descendants of Eumolpus himself, leader of the people when Demeter, during her travail, appeared at Eleusis vainly searching for Kore. Your father's mother was my aunt, your father, my cousin. We shared the same great grandmother. Much of your dowry has also come down from her, you being the latest in a long line of women priestesses of the Mysteries."

Melaina said nothing, not particularly liking the implication that she would also be a priestess, but not wishing to spoil the moment with controversy. And, the dowry was quite a spectacle.

Her mother opened the old chest. The outside was common, carvings and markings of some ancient script, now worn faint. As the lid squeaked open, exotic aromas and glimmers of light scintillated from contents that seemed to light the interior.

"This chest contains great wealth, Melaina. We've never been poor, and some of what you see is believed to have belonged to Eumolpus' wife, whose name is lost to us. Since this chest is in the domain of women, which is also true of the Mysteries, even your father knew little of its contents. Although none of it is really secret, it's best not to make the contents common knowledge. Could well incite jealousy."

Her mother lifted the fine linen clothes from one end of the chest, stacking them neatly on the floor until she uncovered the bottom. From within that wood foundation she lifted a small, hinged hatch to reveal a hidden compartment.

Melaina couldn't restrain herself. She plunged her hands into the darkness and felt a cold mass of loose coins, withdrew a handful. It was a wealth she could have never imagined. A mixture of coins, some so old and tarnished she'd never seen the like, others shiny enough to have been minted yesterday at Eleusis.

Melaina knew little of such coins. Her mother explained. "These," she said holding up a bean-shaped pellet, "are called 'dumps' and are hundreds of years old. The maker struck them to show that they are solid and not plated. These," she said holding up a shiny but worn coin with a lion's head, "are made of electrum and come from Lydia during King Gyges reign. They are at least two-hundred years old." Her mother got lost in the naming of them, and lingered on the Athenian "Owl," a coin with the likeness of Athena on one side and an owl on the other. It was a tarnished silver tetradrachm, and minted rather recently. Then, she held up a smaller coin, made of gold, with a profile of a king on one side and a ship at sea on the other. "This is the daric, from Persia," she said with a touch of venom. "King Darius minted it. It was he who is responsible for the death of your father. Our generals brought all these to me, taken from the Persian ship on which he died. I gave them all to you. Such a pittance for the loss of a father." She paused and stared at the coin, lost in deep thought. Then she recovered herself.

"Your female ancestors have added to it through the ages," her mother said. "Don't use it unless the necessity arises. This will be your daughters' legacy also. I could tell you many stories passed down with this dowry, but with the evacuation, I haven't time. Perhaps we can make some when we get to Salamis." With that, her mother made Melaina return the coins, then closed the secret compartment, and replaced the clothes. Myrrhine looked as though she had something more to say, as her eyebrows drew together. "This will give you a measure of independence for life. Should your husband put away your marriage and leave you, he must restore it to its original value."

Whatever it was that bothered her mother, she didn't put into words.

That night as Melaina lay awake, the sounds of refugees fleeing the Persian hordes drifted in from the nearby road. Her thoughts shifted to the chest and its marvelous contents. Her mother's words returned. "You are the latest in a long line of women priestesses to the Mysteries." She worried about telling her mother of her desire to follow Artemis. Is this the way I am to repay my mother's and ancestors' generosity? she wondered.

*

Melaina experienced many changes upon her return home. She saw none of her friends and cousins, who were kept indoors as their families readied their escape to Salamis. It wasn't just the Persian invasion, but also her mother's demand that she take command of the slave women, weavers and tenders of the sacred hearth, while Myrrhine orchestrated their own escape on the sly. Although the Hierophant forbade it, the entire sacred quarter prepared for evacuation, and Myrrhine was behind it all.

The caretaking of her father's grave now fell to Melaina. She'd purposely avoided her father's tomb since returning, but that evening she went carrying a wicker funerary basket filled with nourishment for the dead. There, she found herself overcome with guilt at being apart from him for so long. "Dear father," she said, "forgive my months of neglect while at Brauron. The only consolation I can give is that you never left my thoughts. My one great crime is that I can no longer visualize your appearance. How could I have forgotten your kind face? Still, it's done, and I hope you'll punish me for it." She sobbed softly.

Just as she was about to leave, a thought occurred to her, as if someone had spoken. In days of old, King Agamemnon's son, Orestes, and his daughter, Electra, had avenged their father's murder. She continued praying. "Having seen the Persian menace firsthand, I realize the depth of wrong done you. I'll do whatever I can to avenge your death, although I have no brother to help me as did Electra. I love you, father."

Then she slipped out unnoticed to the blacksmith's shop.

She'd desperately wished to see her friends and had set a plan in motion. Even as a child Melaina had been fearless and difficult for her mother to control. Within the stone fence in back of their home, a deep woods grew: black alder, poplar, and a small grove of cypress. It was Melaina's favorite place, where she came to watch birds from all over the Aegean rest their wings: horned owls that hooted evenings, falcons, cormorants, bustling flocks of finches.

Her favorite place for reading her grandfather's scrolls, those he'd let her borrow from his library, was within the shadow of a large pomegranate tree. The pomegranate was a symbol of Persephone, and therefore of the Mysteries of Demeter that fueled the ancient sanctuary. Melaina felt close to the divine Daughter of the Dead, particularly since her own father was among those who had passed to the Elysian Fields. She felt closer to him there beneath the pomegranate tree.

Around the smooth-stone wall ran crooking grapevines, the ply of green leaves hiding purple clusters. Here and there along the base of the fence, beds of violets and tender grasses grew. Melaina was forever climbing the fence, peering over its edge and into the smithy beyond. When she was older, she scaled the fence to get a closer look, and there the hysterical slave women, who were supposed to be watching her, would find her keeping company with the blacksmith. Her mother would then set Melaina down, provide a lengthy dissertation on the expectation that women would leave their homes seldom, if ever, and that the most cherished girls were those whose faces had never been seen in public.

But Melaina had a scandalous appetite for adventure. She developed a reputation. Her mother secretly thought it amusing and rather appreciated the blacksmith's parental attitude toward Melaina. The little girl sorely missed the male influence of her father, and the blacksmith helped fill the gap. But her mother hated the smith's two workmen, "fashioners of evil," she called them, and sternly warned Melaina to stay away from them.

Earlier in the day, Melaina, heedless of impropriety, had sent a slave girl to ask Agido and Anaktoria, her two best friends, to meet her in the smoked-filled precinct of the blacksmith. As she left her father's grave and crept out into the bedlam of the dark street, she fell in behind a herdsman and several bleating sheep, their tiny hooves echoing sharp cries against stone. She had to step aside as a man pulling a two-wheeled cart plunged by out of control. The flashing blacksmith's fire was her guiding light.

She loved watching the smith work, and he made jewelry for her, anything she asked. He was a disciple of two gods, crippled Hephaestus, god of fire, and Prometheus, Forethought himself, who stole fire from Hephaestus and gave it to mankind, so we might not dwindle into nonexistence. Thus, the blacksmith owed his livelihood to Hephaestus and Prometheus, and he repaid them by telling and retelling their myths. Melaina would sit and watch him, winds of the two bellows delivering great gusts or faint puffs at his bidding, the smiting and counter-smiting of his great hammer and anvil working the woe on woe of beaten metal as it shaped to his will.

Melaina entered his open shop from the back, coughing at furnace smoke. She stood watching him, busy as he was at the bellows, from the open door to the room where he kept his precious metals and where her friends would soon join her. The blacksmith, Palaemon by name, suffered from a birth deformity, as had Hephaestus, and limped on both feet. This resulted in a rocking motion as he moved about, a hesitating forward roll of his entire frame. His upper body had strengthened to compensate for weak legs, so that he appeared a composite of two people, a giant from the waist up, somewhat of a dwarf from the waist down. He was from the island of Rhodes and likened the lower portion of himself to that of the Telchines, the mythical dwarfed metalworkers of the Underworld who practiced magic beneath Rhodes. "With these withered legs," he'd told her, "all my hopes are for the next life. That's why I chose Eleusis when I left Rhodes."

Melaina had hoped to talk to him while she waited for her friends, but a constant stream of warriors passed through demanding immediate repairs to weapons and armor. As the blacksmith pounded new spear points and reshaped damaged swords, Melaina heard them ask if he'd evacuate, but Palaemon shook his head. He'd left Rhodes years before to escape the Persians. He'd not run again.

Two of the smith's workmen, Akmon and Damnameneus, labored at the anvils. These two sullen giants were her mother's "fashioners of evil," whom Melaina had never heard speak and thought them perhaps mutes. A third, dwarf-like man with bow-shaped legs sat at a table working cold gold into jewelry and mumbling something about tears of the gods and the birth of metals.

Melaina spotted her friends peeking into the shop and motioned them to her. How good to feast on their smiling faces. Anaktoria was tall, thin and stately, as the ancients described Artemis. Agido was short, round. My little dumpling, Melaina called her. How she loved Agido!

Melaina made each of them tell what had happened during her long absence. Agido's father had given her older sister in marriage to a man from Ithaca. Her mother was shattered. "Oh, Melaina!" Agido cried, pearl-drop tears spilling from her eyes, "I may never see her again."

"Take heart, little Agido," said Melaina, thinking Agido reminded her of Theodora at Brauron. "Ithaca is a fine island. Odysseus, the man of many wiles, once ruled there. At least she'll be safe a while longer from the tight fist of Persia."

Melaina had never seen Anaktoria so excited. Although her friend tried to keep it hidden, her eyes fairly sparkled, and her hands couldn't keep still. Anaktoria stood behind Agido with her hands on Agido's shoulders. "This summer I went with mother to the great healing center at Epidaurus. She dreamt of Asklepios."

"God of healing?"

"Exactly."

"Why did your mother go?"

"She'd not had a child in two years. She feared her womb had dried up. She got pregnant the very next month."

"Wonderful! I know you'll enjoy a little brother or sister."

Melaina grew serious and reached for the leather bag she'd snatched while escaping Brauron and over Kallias' objection. She raised a few notes on the aulos, told them of her new proficiency on the lyre and of her newfound love of Sappho's poetry. But finally she told of her plans.

"I've decided to follow Artemis," she said. "I'll not marry but remain virgin and teach here at Eleusis."

She didn't get the response she expected. Agido was confused. "Why?" she asked. "Marriage is every girl's one wish, her fulfillment as wife and mother."

Anaktoria's eyebrows pulled together.

Melaina told of her desire to start a school for girls at Eleusis. "Like Sappho's school for girls on Lesbos," she said. Then she realized they knew nothing of Sappho and would never understand. She grew irritable and dropped the subject entirely. Instead, she told them of the burning of the temple at Brauron, the death of Kynthia. She was about to relay the story of the camel when they heard a noise from outside, a growl. Melaina turned just as Agido's mother pounced on them.

"I might have known she'd be with you," she said, jerking little Agido to her feet and scowling at Melaina. She turned on Anaktoria. "Your mother is beside herself with worry." As she dragged Agido from the room, Anaktoria's face grew grave. "I'd better go too," she said, and charged after them.

Left breathless and guilt ridden, Melaina realized she should have known better than to drag others into her little outing. She'd been gone longer than planned herself and tried to sneak past the blacksmith to hurry home, but he caught her eye. Palaemon sponged his face, hands, massive neck and hairy chest, then taking up a stick to lean on, came limping to Melaina.

"Little mistress," he said, his kind face still with beads of sweat. "I'd heard you returned to us."

"It's good to be back in the warmth of your shop once again, to hear the music of metal on metal. I was afraid you'd forgotten me."

He smiled through a grizzly beard but said nothing. Instead he shuffled to a box he kept against the wall, raised the lid and retrieved something shiny. "So you're a woman now," he said, but his voice showed no irony. He seemed to be groping for words. He sat on the chair before her, where Agido had sat only a moment before, and held in the light of an oil lamp a magnificent gold broach.

"On Rhodes," Palaemon said, "I learned the art of fine metal work. This is the first I've attempted in years. The magicians who live beneath Rhodes developed the subtle working of granulated gold many centuries ago."

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and Melaina realized his excitement. He brought both her hands forward and placed the object in them. "It's an eagle, a special one made by the marriage of metals, male and female ores."

Melaina found its beauty spellbinding. The eagle had been created from tiny gold granules merged but not melted onto a gold surface. It seemed to retain the spark and flame of the metalworking process, throwing both light and shadow. "Its beauty defies saying," she said.

"Thousands of years ago when Prometheus stole fire and gave it to man, Zeus ordered Hephaestus to chain Prometheus to a Scythian mountainside at the edge of the world. For thirty thousand years an eagle came every day to eat out Prometheus' liver, which renewed itself every night. This golden eagle is a reminder of that one, but also contains a warning. When Prometheus gave us fire, something came with it. His act was one of arrogance, and it's tainted our existence ever since. It's as if the fuel with which all fires burn, even those of the soul, is arrogance. Our arrogance tells us we control our fate, and we're unable to accept that the gods give us our lot in life. In fact, we're but the beaten metal molded in the smithy of the gods. Remember that, little mistress, and the world is yours. The gods punish arrogance swiftly."

Melaina had hardly heard his words, so captivated was she by the ancient symbols etched on its underside. The sharp scratches seemed to release the broach's own internal light. "And the script?"

The smith's eyes rose to meet hers, but he hesitated. "It's not so much the words but the power locked within. The language is very old. Comes from ancient Crete before even king Minos or his mother Europa, stolen from Tyre by Zeus himself, walked the craggy shores of the giant island. So old we've lost the sound of the words. But when I was a child, the Telchines of Rhodes still knew the ancient writing and taught me to render the letters. They also taught me a bit of their magic, pale though it's now become even in their hands. It's not a good-luck charm, more a divine commandment."

Palaemon sat for a moment lost in thought, eyes mesmerized by the gold light coming from the object she held. He woke from the trance. "Off with you!" he said, looking alarmed, "before your mother finds you here and renders my head as lame as my legs."

"I'll study it well, keeping in mind your words. Perhaps its insight will be revealed when I need it most." She clutched the broach to her heart, bent and kissed him on the sooty cheek.

Then she was off.

*

The indiscretion of Melaina's appearance in public, along with her friends, didn't escape her mother's ears. For the next two days, Myrrhine pushed and shoved Melaina about. First, it was the potters needing her immediate attention, then the spinning room where the slave girls struggled with evacuating, and finally the kitchen, where so much had been sent on to Salamis that fixing a meal for the Hierophant was no longer possible. Melaina found the panic of the slave girls contagious and resisted a pull toward screaming herself.

To escape the frenzied activity and her mother's scrutiny, she climbed the hill to her favorite overlook of the bay where she had, in the past, been allowed to go only with adult supervision. Now, she was an adult and escaped under her own recognizance. She hadn't had a moment to herself, and although usually she avoided solitude, now she noticed a definite longing for it.

From her vantage point, she could see a long ant trail of people and beasts of burden coming from the north. These were refugees from Plataea, Eleutherai and the legendary foothills of Mt. Kithaeron, where Oedipus had been exposed as a child and the frenzied maenads of Dionysus ripped apart wild animals and ate their flesh raw. The trail came to the very edge of Eleusis where it turned west to the Isthmus and Corinthia. Through the low rumble of all this traffic, Melaina heard the sharp ping of the blacksmith's hammer.

She found a seat on a stone shaped by ancient hands beside a laurel bush and pulled a small clay tablet from her bag. Strumming her lyre, she sang. "Artemis, arrow-pouring virgin and divine nurturer of moral youths, I sing to thee and ask not for a bow and swift arrows, not for a gift at all, but only for something I already have. Give me forever my maidenhood to keep, and stay the hand of Aphrodite when she comes bringing weak knees and limb-gnawing passion. O don't forsake Melaina now that she's grown, Artemis. Instead, bring Melaina..."

A noise stopped her, something on the other side of the laurel, and she looked around it to see Sophocles' tall form gazing out to sea. If he's heard me, I'll die, she thought, but he seemed to be judging the magnitude of the sunset or the thickness of distant smoke from Persian fires. He looked less formidable than that night before Kallias' chariot leading their escape. Perhaps he doesn't even know I'm here, she thought. Her heart sank when he finally spoke.

"Who is this poet you quote with such confidence? Though it rings of Sappho, the rhythm seems fresh, original. Such a delicious weaving of melody and rhythm. Is it a poet of the past that my education is sorely lacking, or someone too recent to be in the curriculum?"

Melaina tried to take a breath but found no air. Why didn't he return down the hill? she wondered. He must know it's not proper for me to be alone with a young man. "Surely, you make fun of me, sir. It's my very own poetry. A man of any manners wouldn't eavesdrop on a lady who, thinking she's alone, opens her heart to a goddess."

Young Sophocles, barely three years her senior, his cheeks covered with something more than fuzz but less than beard, peeked around the laurel bush, alarmed. "Forgive me. Until you spoke, I thought I was alone myself. Still, I wouldn't trade hearing your poetry for a season at the Dionysia."

"Perhaps if you hadn't laughed at me over the camel, I'd think more kindly of your intentions. Your flattery does me no credit. I'll be ashamed to open my mouth henceforth."

"No! Don't be. Truly, I'm grateful to have heard you, but ashamed it embarrassed you. I too am a poet still in training and hope one day to present tragedies at the City Dionysia. I've been laughed at and told my gift is modest, so would never think unkind thoughts of another's poetry."

"I've heard it said, the slow-maturing soul gains the deeper insight."

"Perhaps. Still Lamprus, my music teacher, says dancing is my only talent."

"I would have thought you'd be home evacuating instead of leisurely roaming a hilltop. Do you live in Eleusis?"

"No. Beautiful Kolonus. You might remember. We stopped there briefly on our way back from Brauron. It's just north of Athens. We evacuated to Salamis several days ago."

"Yes, indeed I do remember. And a marvelous site it seemed. Is that where you receive training to become a famous poet?"

"Now it's you who's playing with me. My father is but a simple blacksmith. We use my teacher's home in Athens and his second one here in Eleusis. That's why I'm here. I'll never be a famous poet, but he encourages me, perhaps beyond my measure."

"The smith here at Eleusis is not simple, and I suspect your father isn't either. They speak of blacksmiths as the 'priests of metals'. But who might be this famous poet teaching you?"

"The greatest in the world, Aeschylus."

"Uncle Aeschylus!" Mention of him brought her back to her senses. She panicked. "I must go before I'm seen. You've nothing to lose. I could be outcast."

"Here," said Sophocles, snapping a branch from the bush, "laurel is sacred to Apollo and has powers of purification." He reached it out to her. "For my lady," he said, "to cleanse her from an encounter with the forbidden."

She reached for it, averting her gaze, but not before noticing Sophocles' subtle blue eyes. She felt close to him because hers were blue also, but deep blue, not subtle. Gradually his stare drew her eyes upward until their eyes met. She saw him stagger, wondered at it. Their fingers intertwined, both refusing to let go the branch. His warmth seeped into her. Such exquisite warmth. She'd heard of the legendary hotness of young men, its superiority to that of women, and had always thought it a lie.

CHAPTER 7: The Oracle from Delphi

The following day, her mother pulled Melaina from the chaos of evacuation and took her to the Hierophant. They found him in the library overseeing a scribe. Melaina's grandfather was castigating the man over the quality of his letters and left-out words, but changed his tone when he saw Melaina. He took the women to the temple of Demeter, the Telesterion, where she'd been initiated five years before. At ten, she'd been the youngest ever to witness the epiphany. They passed the altars of Demeter and Kore on the way and walked through the guarded entry. "Need a little privacy for important matters," he told the guards. Inside the Telesterion, they picked a path through the forest of columns, footsteps echoing. During the yearly initiation ceremony, three thousand initiates sat on the stair-stepping stone seats that lined the walls.

Melaina put on a hangdog look, resigned to punishment for the previous day's excursion and thinking that surely someone had seen her with Sophocles. Myrrhine walked in silence and looked worried herself. They made straight for the Anaktoron, where the Sacred Objects, the Hiera, Holiest of Holies, were kept and where everyone except the Hierophant was refused entry. His throne stood outside the bolted door, and he assumed his position in the great seat, a stately presence in his flowing wraps of colored cloth. Melaina's apprehension grew. Surely he was about to levy some formal punishment against her.

The Hierophant said he'd heard from Kallias of her final moments at Brauron, her initiation during the Night of the Bear. "But I want to hear it," he said, "from you. Details are important."

Melaina paused a moment to gather her thoughts, then told him all she remembered, eyes flooding with tears as she recalled the details of Kynthia's death.

"That's interesting," said the Hierophant, "particularly the fate of your she-goat, the fact the animal had not been sacrificed."

She continued and after she finished, he said, "I've heard nothing to compare with it, a goat refused and a human sacrificed provided, two actually, as Kallias read it. Remarkable."

"Not really, grandfather," said Melaina, "it was simply chance that the assassin intruded before I slit the she-goat's throat."

"'Twas the same as the casting of lots," he said. "The outcome of chance is ever the gods' handiwork. I've heard nothing like it since Iphigeneia."

"But I dreamed it the night before. And could have prevented it if I'd realized it was all to come to pass."

The old man raised his eyebrows, laughed out loud. "Simple guilt tells you that. Not even Zeus can change what the Fates ordain. But you've a gift for prophecy. I've known it for some time."

"What good is prophecy if it doesn't help?"

"Mortals don't always work toward fulfilling divine will. We all wear the gods' yoke, and those who know must spread the word. A priestess from Zeus' sacred grove was here not long ago on such a mission."

"Grandfather! One of the three doves of Dodona?" Melaina had never met a priestess from the most ancient of oracles and wished she'd not been away at Brauron.

The Hierophant nodded. "She brought word that Demeter and her divine daughter will come amongst us again."

"Still lamenting Kore's marriage?"

"More likely, concern for the Mysteries. Xerxes is a threat to Eleusis. You may play a role in the goddess' plans. When Artemis saved you at Brauron, she gave you a second fate. The goddess did that for a reason."

"A second fate? How extraordinary! What could the goddess want with me?"

"The gods have designs on all our lives, but you will be severely yoked. You've answered my question. Now, off with the two of you. I've the Dadouchos to contend with over this."

Melaina didn't particularly like the idea of her grandfather discussing her fate with Kallias, but stifled her objection. He may have saved my life, she thought, but that should be the end of it. The Hierophant returned to his chamber, but the mother and daughter lingered in the Telesterion. Melaina wanted to be alone, but Myrrhine wouldn't have it. "I have something to tell you," she said. "During the months of your absence, the Council of the Mysteries met and voted on admittance of new priests and priestesses. You were the only one approved."

Melaina started to protest, realizing she must reveal her plans for the future before the council decided for her.

"Please," her mother said. "I haven't finished. Ordinarily you wouldn't be told until the Hierophant decided it was time to assume the position, but word has leaked out. People will be whispering. He'll decide which vacancy you'll fill. Any will be a great honor, yet simply a steppingstone for your final life-long position. One day you'll take my place as priestess of Demeter, the most powerful position in the Mysteries other than that of the Hierophant."

Her mother paused, took Melaina into her arms and held her close. But Melaina stiffened. She felt none of her usual warmth and affection. Her mother continued talking, the words whispers in Melaina's ear.

"Perhaps now you can see the importance of not repeating the indiscretion at the blacksmith's. You're to stay out of the public eye."

Melaina started sweating, felt trapped. "But mother," she said, her voice a much younger whine. "I don't want to be a priestess. I want...." She pushed away, turned her back.

"What?" her mother asked.

Melaina wouldn't respond, felt an overwhelming sense of irritation.

"Talk, Melaina. What's wrong?"

When Melaina turned around, she'd changed. She was no longer the little girl she'd seemed a moment ago in her mother's arms. Melaina straightened and realized for the first time that she was as tall as her mother. "Never!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "I want to follow Artemis, not Demeter. I'll remain virgin and be a poetess like Sappho."

"That's foolishness. This is a different time, a different place. Sappho was below your station. You can't cast aside being the most important woman in Eleusis. Events and inscriptions will be dated by your name. You'll be in charge of the expense fund and receive an obol from each initiate. Your dowry will grow beyond bounds."

"But mother, why would the Muses give me song if I weren't supposed to sing? Besides, Sappho wasn't just a poetess." And Melaina assumed an adult stature she'd never shown, had deliberately hidden in fact. Appearing fragile had its advantages, but now she must show strength. "She ran a finishing school for aristocratic girls. Kynthia," and now her eyes filled with tears, "said my verses are sweet as Sappho's. And you have to admit that with my years of training, I'm the most educated young woman in Eleusis."

"Kynthia has filled your head with nonsense. You must realize that soon you're to be married. Sappho was married, even had a child. I warned your grandfather about sending you to Brauron where you could fall under Artemis' influence. The path of the virgin goddess is not for you. Demeter would be deeply offended. We've been close in the past. Don't let this come between us."

"No! Mother, you mustn't let them marry me off. I'll talk to grandfather." She fumbled in her leather bag. "I'm very good with the aulos," she said, "and Kynthia told me I had few peers on the lyre."

"The aulos is a sordid thing, disfigures the face. You want to be a common flute-girl?"

"Mother! I'm serious about poetry and teaching. The aulos is indispensable for a chorus."

Melaina saw her mother calm a little, although she still appeared determined. "Dreams of such independence can never be. Women were allowed more freedom on Sappho's Lesbos one hundred years ago. We're discouraged from even being seen in public. Priestesses have a little more freedom than other women but are still kept from the public. All must marry."

"You haven't remarried since father died."

"That's different. I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you about that, but not while you're angry. Besides, you don't understand virginity. You would remain an empty vessel, your body a sieve. Remember the Danaïdes, who in the Underworld were condemned to carry water in bottomless jars? You'd be like the people who haven't been initiated into the Mysteries."

"Kynthia wasn't an empty vessel. I can still be out of the public eye while running a finishing school. I could learn to teach from Uncle Aeschylus. He loves me, mother, more than anything, he once said. Sophocles says Uncle Aeschylus is the best poet in the world." And then she blushed, realizing she'd blurted out her latest indiscretion.

Her mother's voice filled with coarse anger. "When have you been talking to Sophocles?"

Melaina turned her back again and walked away, her blush so deep it reddened her bare shoulder.

"Melaina! Please come back. You're not well. I must talk to you."

Melaina broke into a run, the clip-clop of her sandals echoing off the walls of the sacred chamber. She wondered what her mother's last statement meant but simply couldn't bear to hear anything conflicting with her own plans.

*

In the end, it was the priestess of Athena from Athens who convinced the Hierophant to evacuate. She'd come to Eleusis after a harrowing escape to see Myrrhine. Melaina watched as the woman collapsed into her mother's arms, sobbed long and hard, then raised her red, tear-filled eyes. "We're done for, Myrrhine. Athena, protectress of cities, bringer of civilization, has abandoned Athens. We put out the sugar-cake, like always, but the sacred serpent, whose form Athena has always assumed, didn't come to eat it. It turned hard and crumbly. The ants got it."

The Hierophant gave the word. "All but the sanctuary," he said. It wasn't just the priestess' tears. The Akropolis was under siege. A few of the more stouthearted Athenians had taken their lives in their hands to man the holy citadel.

The people of Eleusis gathered on the hill, where Melaina had surreptitiously met Sophocles, to view the distant spectacle. They stared toward Athens as black smoke trailed skyward. Xerxes had set fire to everything on the Akropolis. Even the women normally kept indoors escaped the confines of their homes to glimpse the horror. It caused a great stir among them. "By all that's divine!" said one. "Why would Athena permit the burning of the Parthenon?"

"And why would anyone, even a Persian, want to burn it?" said another.

"Persian sacrilege," said the Hierophant. "The gods mean nothing to the heathen." He turned back down the hill. "Evacuate if you're afraid," he said. "The Persians will have no trouble finding me." He lumbered off stiff as a tree trunk with his head bowed and dark robe pulled about him.

That night, torches burned for the evacuation, and delirious dogs ran about, infected with their owners' fright. All the next day, the people of Eleusis loaded boats to Salamis. Trunks, furniture, carpets, sacks of grain from Demeter's own storeroom, goats, sheep, chickens, all shipped to another shore.

Time came when Melaina and her mother were to leave also, their boat waiting patiently at the dock all day. Melaina delayed loading her dowry until the last moment, and in the end decided, over her mother's objections, to leave it behind. "I trust grandfather," she said. "The Persians won't pillage Eleusis." Finally, Myrrhine gave up and walked away from her headstrong daughter.

Late afternoon, a familiar boat appeared at dockside, one carrying the dark muscular form of the Dadouchos. Kallias had come from Salamis with foreboding news. "Pray come, Myrrhine, bring your daughter," he said. They retired to the temple to consult the Hierophant, whom they found sitting on a stone outside the Gates of Hades, head bowed.

Melaina felt at sea surrounded by all these adults, a little frightened. She tagged along behind her mother but wished to be with Agido and Anaktoria. Are all my dreams of being a poetess and teacher simply a defense against becoming an adult? she wondered.

The Hierophant rose and bid them follow him home through the streets. "This is no place to talk," he said.

Kallias also sent word for Aeschylus.

Once there, the Hierophant offered prayer before the hearth of Hestia as Aeschylus stomped into the chamber, tired and dirty from working the evacuation. "This better be important," Aeschylus said.

Kallias spoke but lacked confidence. Melaina had never seen him so unsure of himself. "On Salamis, a debate rages in the War Council," he said. "Themistocles, the Athenian, and Eurybiades, the Spartan, are at each other's throats over war strategy. Eurybiades has convinced the council to abandon Salamis and forge the last line of defense at the Isthmus. But still, Themistocles argues."

"They couldn't agree on it being daylight or dark," said Aeschylus. "If Hellas' fate depends on harmony between those two, all is lost."

Kallias seemed devastated by Aeschylus' observation, but continued. "Several months ago, we consulted Delphi twice to learn our proper course. The first oracle spoke only doom for Hellas, but when the Athenian convoy returned wearing the sacred laurel of suppliants and begging some word of hope, the Pythia gave this." He held up a scrap of papyrus and read directly from it:

Not wholly can Pallas win the heart  
of Olympian Zeus, though she prays him  
with many prayers and all her subtlety.  
Yet will I speak to you this other word,  
as firm as adamant. Though all else  
shall be taken within the bound of Kekrops  
and the fastness of the holy mountain of Kithaeron,  
Zeus the all-seeing grants Athena's prayer  
that the wooden wall only shall not fall  
but help you and your children.  
Await not the host of horse and foot  
coming from Asia, nor be still,  
but turn your back and withdraw.  
Truly a day will come when you will meet him  
face to face. Divine Salamis, you will bring death  
to women's sons when the corn is scattered,  
or the harvest gathered in.

"See!" Aeschylus shouted at the Hierophant, "even Athena knew we should evacuate." Then he turned on Kallias. "I can't believe you've called me here for this. What good am I at interpreting oracles?"

"Patience," assured Kallias. "Though they've had Apollo's words all these months, the War Council is still in heavy disagreement over their meaning. The 'wooden wall' is the crux of the matter, it would seem. Where are we to regroup our forces? Some believe it's the wall being built across the Isthmus, others the wall of wooden ships Themistocles plans to sail against the Persians at Salamis, if he can convince the rest not to retreat further west. Help us. All Hellas weighs in the balance of this one choice."

Melaina had always known men to be decisive, ever ready with an answer. They didn't have any trouble telling women what to do. Knowing the generals were so uncertain about this oracle was frightening. Why did they have to resort to an oracle, anyway? Didn't they know how best to fight the enemy? And she wondered why Kallias wanted her and her mother there. They knew the ways of women but not where to fight a war. It made her mad to think these men floundered so. If her father were alive, he wouldn't put up with it. She could barely stay silent.

The Hierophant turned his back and addressed the fire, praying in an ancient tongue. Melaina loved the deep resonance of her grandfather's voice. Silence fell about the house and even the dogs no longer wailed. He spoke. "The problem goes deeper than the mere interpretation of this oblique oracle, Kallias. I've been concerned about the Mysteries ever since we heard Xerxes had crossed the Hellespont. If we don't hold the ceremony that provides the link between mortals and immortals, allow it to be severed, the human race will lose divine guidance and return to a witless existence."

Myrrhine stirred. "But we can initiate no one into the Mysteries with all Attica evacuated. We have no initiates. And besides, with the exception of us, the sacred officials have left Eleusis."

Aeschylus threw up his hands. "I'm not listening to a bunch of conjurors mumble trivialities while the real work of evacuation goes undone." He turned to walk out, pushed past Kallias.

Kallias grabbed Aeschylus' arm with one hand and took hold of his coat with the other. "No, Aeschylus," Kallias said. "We can't let you leave. The argument won't go the same without you. Stay, please. And though you may argue against us, still I'll feel the better for it. I like your contrariness. Keep us sensible."

Aeschylus turned back, though still reluctant. "Alright," he said, "but why not use the proven methods of determining divine will? Read entrails or flames of a sacrificial fire. In times long past, blind Teiresias was expert at reading bird flight. What's wrong with priests today? No talent for it?"

Kallias smiled sadly. "We've already tried that on Salamis. The results were inconclusive. Apollo, through this oracle," he held up the scroll, "has told us that Zeus will permit intervention on our behalf. Athena received that much from him. But from where the help will come and in what form are the questions."

"I haven't been initiated into your mysteries of Demeter," said Aeschylus, "but I know this. If we have a divine protector it'll be her. She alone values the individual. The goddess is behind this radical idea of putting power in the hands of the people. It's threatening to put into office any idiot who can raise a hand."

"This is no time to argue the finer points of politics, Aeschylus," said the Hierophant, "but your point is well taken. And, as you've stressed on numerous occasions, the stakes are higher than ever with the Persian invasion. Even the Trojan War was fought only for honor and glory. Here, freedom of the human spirit is at stake." He turned from Aeschylus and addressed Kallias. "Aeschylus is right. You've been looking to the wrong divine power for guidance."

"But how to approach Demeter?" said Kallias. "The Mysteries have been cancelled. She'd never listen to us the way we've abandoned her."

"Yes," the Hierophant responded, "you speak truly. It's a terrible dilemma." He fell silent and stared off into the distance, walked away from them. Then, he turned back. "Perhaps if we hold an abbreviated ceremony, enough for Demeter to maintain that bridge between this life and the next provided by the Mysteries, she might also send a sign to resolve the generals' dilemma."

"That's it!" exclaimed Kallias. "What do you have in mind?"

Melaina interrupted them. "But grandfather, why just Demeter? Perhaps we should appeal directly to the Mistress of the Underworld."

The Hierophant looked as if she'd struck him in the face. Greatly she wished she'd remained silent.

Yet, he seemed to taking her suggestion seriously. "Yes! How blind I've been," he said, turning to face Melaina. "You see what the rest of us can't. I've known for some time that you're close to Kore. Did not Theseus return from the dead to help us at Marathon?"

"A simple prayer to the unmentionable goddess then," said Aeschylus. "Done. Now back to the evacuation." He turned to walk out again.

"Not so," said the Hierophant. "Not a simple prayer but a ceremony, a Mysteries ceremony for Kore."

"But how would we address those in the Underworld?" asked Melaina. "Most prayers are addressed to those on Olympus."

"You're versed in Homer. Remember Odysseus' descent into the Underworld to learn his way home?"

"He was instructed by the goddess Circe," Melaina said after a short pause, "and had to sail a ship without a helmsman to the crumbling homes of Death."

"What if we," and now the Hierophant's eyes glowed with fire light, "performed the epiphany ceremony while addressing those of the Underworld as did Odysseus. We'll not have to go so far as did he. A door to the Underworld lies nearby. The purest of us here would perform the rite." His eyes searched each of them, but fell on Melaina. "You are the one person who's demonstrated favor with the gods."

Melaina felt her mother grab her arm, fingers dig into her flesh. "No!" said Myrrhine. "You can't possibly do that to her, no matter the prophecies. She's not well. Everyone fears that Underworld entrance."

"What afflicts her?"

But Myrrhine looked down at her feet and mumbled. "She's just not well."

The Hierophant looked at Melaina. "Are you sick?"

"I still suffer from the trauma I experience at Brauron."

"Are you able to do this? You know what I'm asking?"

Melaina stirred, avoided his eyes and focused on the fire. "You're asking me to be the priestess of Kore?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes. Here on earth, you'll be the living representative of the goddess of the Underworld."

Melaina wondered how she could do this. She'd never been a priestess. "Will I go inside the grotto and sacrifice as did Odysseus?"

"The gods have already shown you the way. This is indeed encouraging!"

Myrrhine was still upset. "You can't possibly put the weight of this on Melaina."

"At Brauron, Artemis sacrificed her own priestess for Melaina," said the Hierophant. "I'm convinced she's the crucial link. She gave Melaina a second fate for a reason. No one has been so favored by the gods in my lifetime."

Myrrhine pleaded, "Don't do this... The Gates of Hades are a danger beyond telling."

Melaina knew her mother was withholding something. Why did she fall silent?

"I need to know if we're all in agreement. Aeschylus?" The Hierophant's fact was stern. "You have a vote."

"As if I could cast one for this ritual of the spirits."

The Hierophant turned to Melaina. "We'll go inside the grotto with you for the first sacrifice," he said, "but you'll be the one to enter the Underworld and address Kore. Before you do, we'll retire to our places at the Anaktoron and start the Mysteries ritual with the Hiera. Perhaps that'll help open the pathway to the Underworld. You'll be alone. Are you up to it?"

"But, grandfather, I won't know what to do."

"Nor would I. Think back to your initiation. Perhaps you'll find guidance there. Will you do it?"

She raised her hands above the fire, lowered them until she felt the flames lick her fingers. Melaina remembered the argument with her mother just a few days before when she'd set her mind against becoming a priestess. But she'd always felt close to Kore, the divine Maiden, though she was the most feared of any god or goddess. Perhaps if she performed this one rite, they'd let her go her own way. At least she'd have a strong argument for it. She'd been infected with the desire to determine her own future.

"For everyone's freedom. Even my own," she said. "Yes!"

Her mother voiced a last protest. "But you don't understand the risk."

"She does, better than any of us," replied the Hierophant. Melaina saw the depression lift that had gripped her grandfather for days. "Aeschylus, it's time for you to leave."

CHAPTER 8: Entering the Underworld

Melaina had only seen the sacred grotto, the Gates of Hades, from outside. Even her mother had never been inside. This was where Earth had yawned a thousand years before, allowing Hades to surface, kidnap Kore, and take her to the Underworld where he married her, thereby making her Mistress of the Dead.

The slaves who'd stayed behind to help load the mother's and daughter's belongings were brought in to assist in the ritual, and they trembled on the sidelines. The Hierophant bid one, a trusted old man with a propensity for worrying, to retrieve a black ewe and a black ram from the sacred holding pen. "The finest we have," the Hierophant said.

"Lord Zeus, help me!" the old man replied, hurrying off.

The gates to the Underworld, set deeply into the east side of the mountain, were already shrouded in shadow. In the orange glow of sunset, the Hierophant said a prayer in the ancient tongue, inserted the large temple key, turned it, and swung aside the grotto doors, while the slaves whispered and cowered in the background. Myrrhine, now in the long robe of the priestess of Demeter and carrying a basket, entered after the Hierophant and was followed by Kallias, who'd donned the raiment of the Dadouchos. He carried the torch and led the black ram. Melaina came last, carrying the temple key and leading the black ewe.

Melaina had complained to her grandfather after seeing the ewe the slave had selected. "I raised her," she'd said. "Please don't make me slaughter her. She's pregnant."

"We always sacrifice the most precious when asking for divine gifts," he told her. "We give so that they give in return."

Inside, a small moss-eaten altar drank torchlight. Dark stone lining the walls of the cave held back the crumbling mountainside. At the far end in the darkest corner, Melaina saw a small door that was barely visible in the dim light, looking even more ancient than the stone walls. The Dadouchos placed the torch in a holder just inside the entrance and brought the ram forward to the altar, where the Hierophant had already assumed his position and taken the basket from Myrrhine. From within it, the Hierophant drew forth a long bronze blade that glinted in the torchlight. Just outside the door, the slaves made ready the fire.

The Hierophant accepted the black ram and placed its front feet at the edge of the blood drain that emptied into a hole. The other three joined him, supplicating themselves, then rising to circle the altar. The Hierophant sprinkled the ram with chilled holy water, and, after it trembled its assent, he prayed.

"O Unseen One, lord of the blurred and breathless dead, imperious Hades, whose heart knows no mercy, I summon you on a matter of great urgency. All Hellas overflows with the arrogance of Xerxes, who calls himself King of Kings and blasphemes against the gods. His dark forces swarm our fields and burn your temples. We respect your solitude and ask only council with the dark goddess of your house. Call her from the misty depths of Tartarus."

As he spoke the last words, he slit the black ram's throat with a single swift stroke, and the women screamed as was the custom. The ram labored on the altar and stumbled while the Hierophant guided the blood-gushing neck to the hole. Melaina looked away as the ram's life drained in red runnels.

The Hierophant chanted, then carved the carcass and set the white thighbones, covered with glistening fat, to roast for the gods on the roaring flames. He cut and served a crisp portion to each of them. Until now, Melaina hadn't realized she was so hungry. After the ritual repast, the Hierophant poured red wine over the flames and turned to Melaina, his demeanor now formal.

"Granddaughter of tender years," he said, "now guised in the raiment of the priestess of Kore, your turn has come. The rest of us must retire to the Telesterion: the Dadouchos to spread the purifying Fleece of Zeus and prepare the pathway for the great light, the priestess of Demeter to summon the goddess to mourning for her kidnapped daughter, and myself to the Anaktoron, where I will summon Kore for her return to earth. When I summon her," he said to Melaina, "you must converse with her for a sign. No one has ever done what you are attempting, so your inexperience is no disadvantage. But be precise in executing the few instructions I do give you. The fate of us all may weigh in the balance.

He took a smaller temple key from the wall and handed it to her. "My instructions are these," he said. "Use the key to open the door at the back of the cave, which has not been entered even in my father's lifetime. You must open it and lead the ewe inside. Word from the ancients tells us little about what lies beyond. As far as I know, only dark sacrificial earth. You are to take the basket with you. Once inside, use the tip of the bronze blade to cut a gaping wound in Earth and pour libations from each of the cups. Then say a prayer to Kore and sacrifice the ewe, allowing its blood to flow into Earth's wound."

Melaina remembered Kynthia's death a Brauron and the uncertain fate of her friends. "No," she whispered, "after Brauron, I cannot take a life, particularly these two lives I've nurtured."

"I told you, Melaina hasn't recovered," said Myrrhine.

The old Hierophant dropped to one knee before Melaina, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "We must perform the grim rituals for the gods," he said, "even when they bring pain and take loved ones from us. If I had a choice, I would not leave you alone to perform this terrible rite. Be brave, little one, and reap great reward from it."

Melaina said nothing. Somehow, it seemed a step beyond what she could withstand right now. She felt her mother hug her, and then they left, flames outside casting a faint flickering light against the door she was to enter.

Melaina took a deep breath and approached the door, her footsteps echoing on the stones as if she were already inside a great chamber. Darkness enveloped her. She paused, thinking what a mistake she'd made to believe she could perform a ritual involving the dead. But then she scolded herself. If Odysseus could sail to the ends of the world to find his way home, surely she could perform a ritual just inside this small door to save all Greece.

She inserted the bronze temple key, a round bar as long as her forearm but with two crooks, forced a partial rotation and heard the grating of metal on metal. She clutched the cold handle and pulled, but nothing happened. She tried again, but it still would not budge. She was about to call the Hierophant to tell him she couldn't do it, when she thought perhaps a few words to the lord of this chamber would be appropriate. She didn't like the name Hades and decided to use his other, more agreeable name.

"Plouton, host of many and bringer of bountiful wealth, release the latch on the door to your realm so I may enter."

She tried the door again, gave it a jerk. It groaned and gradually swung open, setting free a gust of cold, musty air. At first, she thought it wasn't dark inside at all, but then realized she wasn't seeing blackness. She was peering into nothingness. She sat the basket on the ground before the void and, taking the bronze blade from the basket, she raised it high over her head and with both hands clasped about the hilt, drove it deep into Earth. She then pulled it toward her to cut the votive pit. She poured libations from the cups one by one around it: sweet milk, honey, wine and clear water. Then she scattered barley in a circle, encompassing all.

She brought the ewe forward, but still resented her grandfather's order. She'd raised the ewe from a lamb, had seen it frolic in the field and had looked forward to watching it bear her own lambs. Now as it reached the threshold of motherhood, she was to take its life. Already the ewe's sides swelled with pregnancy. She would be taking two lives. Tears of fear and anger welled up within her. She spoke to ease her escalating terror. "Grim daughter of Zeus, giver of life and death to drudging mortals, come forth from within the womb of Earth to hear my plea."

She put her arm around the ewe's neck and held it to her bosom, running her fingers along the furry face and down until she found the loose-skinned throat. She brushed aside the tears and raised the deadly blade to her fingertips, found the ewe's most vulnerable spot and drew the sharp edge quickly across. She screamed. The ewe bolted but Melaina held on tight so that the black blood could find Earth's wound. The life-holding broth poured from one laceration into the other. She squeezed the ewe to her so its death might seep deep into her own living flesh. She bowed her head and cried painful tears into her dying companion's soft fleece. She was so lost in grief she didn't realize she was again praying. The dark goddess' forbidden name escaped her lips unbidden and unnoticed, and thus without fear.

"O dear mother of the Netherworld, Persephone, dark one who lights the Elysian Fields, take this beloved soul into your warm embrace and grant the sign needed so badly for our own earthly salvation. Grant this request that we might work a great redemption. Send us word, O Dark One."

Dread filled her as she felt the fading life release the limbs of the ewe, her only companion in that dark chamber. The two of them slumped to the ground together, and Melaina felt as though she had fallen into a deep sleep. She saw a dark shore round which the river Styx flowed nine times, and where the grumpy ferryman, Charon, ferried dead to the Underworld.

A great sadness overcame her, and she saw an apparition of a man coming toward her, one she didn't recognize. Some dreaded god, she thought. "Not so," the shape told her. "Simply a long-dead father, come to gaze one last time upon his beloved daughter." She reached out, longing for her father, but her hand went sifting through him. Ethereal as a shadow, he was. "Remember your promise," he said, "and don't fear even the most fearful. Also remember that not all burdens are a curse and that a short life is the more glorious." She wished to question him about this, but he vanished as quickly as he'd come.

A delicately featured maiden, hardly older than Melaina, now stood in his place, amidst a dazzling light. She wore a peplos drawn over a white chiton. A stephane woven of autumn pickings from the fields wound about her head, and her long hair fell in masses over her shoulders. In her right hand she held two torches, and in her left, several ears of grain. Melaina was buoyed by the feeling of love and friendliness radiating from this divine presence, expressed by just the suggestion of a smile.

The lady turned, and with a sweep of her arm flung the two torches into the darkness, unveiling a bronze fence beyond, crowned above by roots of dark Earth. Two iron gates slowly swung open to expose a new blackness: grim, dank, and loathsome. From within issued thousands of spirits led by gentle, clever Hermes. Fell, they were, spirits of murder and madness. They squeaked like bats wakened from a cavern wall, flitting about, their gibbering punctuated with faint cries of "Iakchos, Iakchos." They trailed after the guiding, lighthearted bringer of dreams.

*

Melaina woke screaming. She was no longer in the cave, but lying on the stone floor outside the Anaktoron in her mother's arms. She spit out a cloth her mother had placed between her teeth. She realized that her tongue was sore and bleeding. Blinding flashes of light split the night, accompanied by clashes of thunder. Great flames rose through a hole, the lantern in the ceiling of the Telesterion. Between thundering crashes, the booming voice of the Hierophant raged throughout the temple. The Dadouchos stood on a platform above the Anaktoron, torch in hand. Every time he lowered the fire, another detonation threatened to blast the walls from the temple. A vast chorus of ghostly voices erupted in a rhythm of pounding fury.

*

The group feasted on the top of the hill overlooking the bay. The light of Persian fires dotted the darkness east toward Athens and gradually merged with the sparkling starlight. So far, Eleusis was safe, but the doom of Persian drums rumbled in the distance.

Melaina's eyes followed her mother and the Hierophant. They'd not spoken to each other since leaving Melaina in the cave, and she hoped this was not something that would permanently stand between them. But Melaina was too hungry to let their quarrel slow her sopping and chewing. The old Hierophant stared approvingly at Melaina. He smiled, gray beard streaked with meat juices. They were eating the flesh of the two sacrificial animals, the black ram and ewe. Melaina rarely tasted roast meat and had never gorged herself solely on flesh. Her sadness at sacrificing had now been converted to ravenous hunger, and she consumed the body of the beast, ingesting the holy nourishment in tribute to its gift, while trying to protect her sore tongue.

The slaves' behind them were a constant chatter, their voices echoing far-off Scythia and Thrace, home of Boreas the north wind, from where they'd been kidnapped years before. Kallias had already left for Salamis, convinced he'd received not only the sought-for sign from the goddess, but also hope of divine intervention to save their fledgling people's republic. Themistocles would be hard-pressed to convince the others, but Greece must be defended at Salamis, where the cloud of souls had gone, behind the "wooden wall" of ships and not at the Isthmus.

Her grandfather was struggling to explain what had happened. They'd received so much more from the immortals than anticipated. "According to a myth more ancient than Kronos himself," he told Melaina, "Tartarus holds many dead, those not initiated into the Mysteries and thus never allowed into the Elysian Fields. They were suicides and murderers banished to Tartarus before Herakles taught us the purification ceremony we now hold annually at Agrai. They clamor for redemption, but Zeus never listens. Perhaps our ceremony provided a means for their rehabilitation, and an initiation for them."

"But what can they do for us, grandfather?" asked Melaina.

"Only time will tell, little one."

Melaina didn't reveal all she'd witnessed. She held back the one piece of news that would have softened her mother's heart toward the Hierophant. She would savor it as her own until tomorrow. She'd seen her father in the Underworld.

CHAPTER 9: A Cloud of Spirits

That same evening, two Greek exiles serving with Xerxes stood on a hill north of Athens overlooking Eleusis and the bay. While a blood-red sun plunged into the sea to the west, they discussed the impending battle. Behind them lay the abandoned hills and valleys of Attica, now being looted by Persians. Demaratus was the deposed king of Sparta, who'd lost the throne because of questions concerning his parentage. He hoped to be reinstated after a Xerxes victory. His companion was Dicaeus, a well-to-do Athenian of some repute and a man well-versed in the Mysteries. What the two were about to witness, Dicaeus would tell those who would listen all the rest of his life.

As twilight deepened, Demaratus raised his arm and pointed to a large cloud rising from the vicinity of the Telesterion at Eleusis. The sight visibly shook Dicaeus, and Demaratus questioned him about it.

Dicaeus said, "Listen."

The two cupped their ears into the wind, the better to hear the wisp of voices it carried. Gradually the sound swelled and Demaratus remarked that it sounded as though it seemed to come from a chorus of thirty thousand. Dicaeus recognized the song.

"But who could it be?" asked Demaratus. "All Attica is evacuated and Eleusis has yet to be occupied by the Persians."

"Sir," Dicaeus answered, "the king's fleet is about to fall to disaster. The voices we hear are clearly divine. They sing of Iakchos."

As they watched, the cloud drifted south and descended on the Greek fleet harbored at Salamis.

"And Iakchos?" asked Demaratus.

"Every fall, Athenians celebrate a festival in honor of the divine Mother and Maid. Anyone who wishes may be initiated into the Mysteries. People come from all over the world, even as far as Egypt. The initiates always sing the Iakchos song. I can't tell you of Iakchos. That is the great secret. To divulge it is punished by death."

Demaratus was quiet for several minutes. Finally he spoke, "Keep your secret of the Mysteries, but keep another also. Say nothing of the cloud and voices to Xerxes. If you do, you will lose your head and no one in the world could save you."

CHAPTER 10: Evacuation to Salamis

At the first hint of dawn, the small troop—mother, daughter and a handful of maids—descended the hill to the dock where the ship lingered in its slip. Although Melaina had lived by the sea all her life, she'd never been aboard a boat, and the one awaiting them swarmed with men, another forbidden quantity. Just forward of the bow oars, the bulwark broke to leave a narrow entry onto which Melaina stepped, the twenty-oared galley shifting a little under her weight, something she hadn't expected. She noticed a plaque on which the boat's name had been carved, The Eleutheria, The Freedom. But the whole affair felt unstable, wobbling about like some restless sea monster. A line of pale, sun-starved city women stretched along the boat's centerline, each stepping between two bronzed oarsmen, smelly men with grizzled beards and stern countenance. Bright-eyed in the presence of this feminine cargo, they breathed laboriously, as though they'd just recently wetted their oars.

The rest of the ship's company, dressed in drab, knee-length tunics, was cunningly arranged so as to afford efficient boat operation. The captain sat aft on a fixed stool before the small cabin; the bow officer, who maintained a proper outlook, stood forward; the helmsman sat at the steering oar; and the aulete took up his position at the center mast to synchronize the oarsmen.

With a single shout from the helmsman, they pushed off. Once through the slip, the yard groaned at the base of the mast, straightened and rose, deploying the square sail that billowed as it caught the breeze. The ship's aulete, the flautist, began his beat to sync the oarsmen, and the broad flat blades splashed, then creaked against the tholepins. A grand magic took hold the ship and propelled it forward under influence of both sail and oar.

They passed over the bay, with dawn's pink glow tingeing the water's ripples, and shortly came alongside Salamis. Skirting the east shore southward, they saw across to Athens, thin trails of smoke still frozen above it. The tweetle of the aulete's twin-fluted instrument caught Melaina's fancy, and remembering the choruses of girls she'd led at Brauron, she hummed along. Anaktoria and little Agido, who in the past were forever urging her to lead them in song, joined in, and it wasn't long before the other girls did likewise. The monotonous tootling of the ship's aulete turned divine ditty, and the mood of the finely tuned troop lifted, a promiscuous smile crossing every face. Melaina noticed that even her mother was caught up in this girlish delirium, though she uttered, "Shameful," loud enough for Melaina to hear.

They coursed the coast of Salamis that, as far inland as the eye could see, had become one large city of refugee tents, bleak peaks rising between buildings and around trees. They entered the cove, and a horde of hidden warships that lined shore came into view. Triremes were stacked six deep. At the docks, damaged vessels crowded together, frantic workmen hard at repairing them, their shouts and thuds of mallets a great din in the cove.

Word of the group's sunrise arrival preceded them, Kallias having dropped some not-too-subtle hints about the young priestess descending to the Underworld, as had Herakles and Odysseus of old. Several island priests and a crowd of the curious met them. Melaina noticed their looks of desperation and futility. A murmur arose when Melaina stepped from the boat, and the first rays of sunlight shot forth. Hearing whispers of "Kore" and "Underworld," she tried to hide behind her mother.

A great shout startled Melaina, and she turned to see a crowd standing before the beach, urging on a laboring dog who'd made the swim from Attica. His snout was blowing bubbles, and he barely stayed afloat. He made shore, but staggered and then fell onto the sand. A boy of ten with an unusually shaped head, a tall head as if he wore a helmet, ran to the dog as the crowd cheered him on. One man asked the boy's father, "Xanthippus, did your dog swim to Salamis for love of freedom or love of his master's bondage?" Melaina recognized the father as a general. She'd seen him at Kleito's on the way back from Brauron. The big-headed boy gathered the animal into his arms as his father responded. "For companionship. The simple beast has lost its life, dying just now in my son's arms. It knew nothing of the contrivances for which a man will give his life."

Melaina was caught up in the plight of the dying dog until Aeschylus, with young Sophocles at his side, stepped forward to take charge of the mother and daughter. She watched as Agido and Anaktoria were taken in a different direction. She'd be kept separate from them. Agido cast back a longing look. Melaina watched Sophocles from the corner of her eye, detecting a smile. Their arrival had been all the more symbolic as they were the only dignitaries from Eleusis. The old Hierophant had steadfastly refused to board the boat. This had brought Melaina and her mother to tears as they wondered if they'd see him alive again. "If everyone's going to die anyway," he'd said, "what's the difference if I die on Salamis or at home here in Eleusis?"

As they walked along the docks to a waiting wagon, a fog of unease settled upon the countryside. Birds circled overhead screeching, and Melaina saw several flashes of light, as a mirror will when it catches the sun. Dogs became irritable and turned on each other. Cats screeched and ran for cover. She saw ripples in the distance, like the distortion of heat waves on a landscape, flowing rapidly toward them. The soft sea breeze fell still, and she heard a rumbling, like the far-off thunder of horses' hooves.

The earth began to shake, sending people scattering and screaming in panic as waves rose up to capsize boats in the cove, smash fishing boats against the dock, jostle warships, and threaten to consume Persian and Greek alike. Stones toppled from buildings, roofs fell in, and the earth itself split open.

Melaina was knocked from her feet, and while still in the sitting position, having never experienced an earthquake, uttered words of prayer as a simple reflex. "Lord Poseidon, Earthshaker and deep-roaring ruler of the sea, don't destroy us in our moment of vulnerability. The Persians have already taken our cities. Don't deepen our grief by putting them beneath dark Earth."

As Melaina's words dissipated in the morning air, hardly more than a whisper, so the earth's rumbling crust ceased shivering, and the waves in the bay calmed. As she regained her feet, a murmur spread through the crowd, and old women rushed to touch Melaina's garments. Melaina withdrew further, hid her face behind her peplos and sunk inside herself.

She heard a woman scream. Melaina and her mother rushed to a nearby stone building that had been turned to rubble by the trembling earth. "Oh, my baby, my baby!" the peasant shouted, casting loose stones aside in a frantic search. Melaina stepped into the ruins, rummaged through scattered debris, and tried to raise a section of collapsed roof. She thought she heard a faint cry and asked Aeschylus to help. As if by magic, she raised the baby from the rubble, its bright eyes flashing. The mother was struck dumb, her mouth falling open as she dropped to her knees before Melaina who delivered the baby into her arms.

Whereas the flurry of activity when they stepped off the boat had only embarrassed Melaina, the extreme reaction of the mother, over seeing her child unharmed, along with the crowd's tempest, frightened her. She sought the safety of her uncle, and seeing his dark bull-like form brush aside the crowd, ran to him.

"I've heard of your antics," Aeschylus said, "but wouldn't have believed this if I hadn't seen it myself."

Melaina couldn't understand why even her own contrary uncle saw something extraordinary in her simple act.

Aeschylus and Sophocles ushered the two women away from the gathering crowd and to the home of Mnesarchides and Kleito, who'd offered refuge in Phlya after Melaina's escape from Brauron. From their home on a hillside overlooking the strait, Melaina could see the distant walls of Athens, now in the hands of Persians. Kleito, a huge woman and an herbalist, decorated her home with wild thyme, frankincense, and myrrh. Clusters of exotic plants dried in the corners, and large jars of medicinal oils stood like dumb children in the various rooms. Kleito's huge bulk trudged about shouting orders at the slaves to prepare a room for Myrrhine and Melaina, all the time complaining about the shortage of space.

An aftershock sent women screaming, and Kleito ran to hold Myrrhine's hands for a moment, then lumbered off once again shouting at the slaves and search for bedding. Kleito scolded herself. "Why complain on the eve of doom? All will belong to Persia tomorrow."

Melaina looked for Sophocles, but he'd vanished soon after they'd arrived, and she heard his family was housed nearby, though his father, Sophillus, was chronically ill. Aeschylus and sour-faced Philokleia stayed in the chamber next to that of Melaina and her mother.

By mid-afternoon, Melaina's eyes drooped from lack of sleep. She was so shaken by the earthquake and threatening rush of the devout that she welcomed the chance to simply be her mother's daughter again and slinked into Myrrhine's arms on the soft bed. The sweet smell of wild thyme lofted about Melaina as she curled into the fetal position within her mother's arms. But sleep didn't come.

"Mother," she asked, "how did father die?"

"Aeschylus says he died from the blow of an ax." Her mother's voice was small and plaintive next to Melaina's ear.

"Is it possible to see the dead?"

"For those chosen by the gods, all things are possible."

"I saw father while in the cave of Hades," she said. "In my dream he was missing his right hand." She wondered how her mother would take this, but she didn't respond immediately, and Melaina wondered if she'd fallen asleep.

Her mother let out a deep breath. "Your father lost his hand reaching for the stern ornament of a ship. A Persian ax severed it, and he bled to death."

Melaina remembered her promise to her father, that she'd avenge his death, but chose not to tell her mother. It seemed something just between him and her. She snuggled against her mother's breast. Sleep still would not come. Her father had also mentioned something about a short life being the more glorious. She'd thought he'd meant his own. But now his comment sounded more ominous. Somehow, she felt he was talking about her.

*

Melaina woke with little Euripides standing over her. She hadn't seen him since her short stay at Phlya at the foot of Mt. Hymettos. He peered down at her, his eyes dark berries beneath his black hair.

"Someone wants you," he whispered.

She slipped from her mother's arms, and the little boy took her by the finger, leading her out back and up the hillside to a cave.

"This is my secret place," he told her. "When the Persians come, I'll close it up and hide until I'm grown." His deep eyes darted about. He took her into the shallow cave where he'd stashed broken arrows, spears and damaged armor of tarnished bronze.

"Who am I to see?" she asked. She remembered Salamis was sacred to Aphrodite, its skyline, as seen from Eleusis, resembling the profile of a woman on her back with knees raised and spread. She looked east where the Greek fleet harbored, and a warmth flowed through her when she saw Sophocles' slim form coming up the slope. She spoke first.

"The mountain in back of Athens, is that Mt. Hymettos?"

"The same. On the way back from Brauron, we stopped at the home of Mnesarchides at Hymettos' foot. But look farther south," he said, turning a little as he came up beside her, lowering his voice. "The Persian fleet makes ready for the sea battle."

"Yes, I've seen them. A giant school of sea fishes." She thought, Sophocles has the speech of a man but still the bearing of a boy. Such an odd fellow to be so comfortable with himself. And to treat me as if I'm a woman. "Will you man a ship?"

He looked deflated. "Yes, but only to pickup survivors cast into the brink." He wrinkled his brow. "Shouldn't see battle myself. I've come to say good-bye for the present, wish you divine protection should all not go well tomorrow." He looked at the ground. "The island is abuzz with word of your descent into the Underworld last night and the remarkable way you held yourself during the earthquake. The gods are much closer to you than me. I only want to wish you well."

"Your good wishes are greatly appreciated, Sophocles, not at all brash. I'm not immune to Persian swords. And as for the rumors of desperate peasants...." She smiled.

He looked off into the distance again. "Hellene generals still argue the merits of abandoning the island in favor of the Isthmus. We are an antagonistic lot."

"Think they'll do it?"

He shook his head. "Kallias' tale of the sign from Demeter has given most the courage to make a stand here."

Melaina took a step toward Sophocles, luxuriating in the banquet of his body's smells. She saw an uncertainty, a fright in his eyes that was not there a few days ago, and realized this was his first venture into battle. "If the cheap gossip of peasants was true, and I do have influence with the immortals, certainly young Sophocles will return unharmed," she said, "for truly, how could the gods allow such a fine dancer and poet to be taken from us?"

Sophocles blushed, his face framed by chestnut hair. Searching for words where none existed, he bowed, handed her a small roll of papyrus, and walked back down the hill.

Melaina watched him go, tightly clutching the papyrus to her breast. Little Euripides, who'd been standing quietly inside the mouth of his cave, came to her side. She unrolled the papyrus and saw familiar letters neatly formed of lampblack. Her heart raced as she realized Sophocles had given her one of his own poems.

O sunlight in this war-drenched darkness,  
my eyes now feast on you  
the final time! For I am perhaps  
setting off to conceal in Hades  
the finish of my life. Most cherished friend,  
in prosperity remember me  
and you and your kinsmen  
be fortunate in all time to come.

Melaina's eyes puddled. He'd written this just for her. She'd been in his thoughts just as he'd been in hers. Poets together we are, she thought. Most cherished friend! Oh Aphrodite, goddess of love and mistress of well-built Salamis, show a little restraint with me!

She felt a tug on her arm and pulled Euripides' thin frame close.

"Is Sophocles afraid to fight the Persians?" he asked.

"Sophocles is of stout heart. He'll overcome any fear."

As Melaina and Euripides descended through the olive trees, the sun cast long mountain shadows over the stone buildings, and she saw her mother waiting in the courtyard.

"Hurry," said Myrrhine, "the generals have summoned us."

"Mother," complained Melaina, "they want you. Keep me out of it."

"You were requested by name."

Melaina hung her head, and her mother wrapped an arm about her shoulders as they walked back together. "I know," her mother said. "Believe me; I understand your reluctance better than you think."

*

Early evening, Melaina stood beside her mother before the temple of Athena, a small stone building on a rise overlooking the crowded streets of the agora, which were banked with magazines and statues of long-dead heroes. The air was thick with the smoke of torches lighting the square and with the rumble of worried voices. Across the strait, Persian fires lined the shore of Attica.

The temple where she stood had a new addition. The ancient olivewood statue of Athena, which had fallen to earth centuries before and was usually housed in the Erechtheion on the Akropolis, had recently been removed and transported to Salamis. The statue was unveiled for the festivities, and they all now stood before it.

A shout went up as twelve bullocks, restrained by thick ropes, were led into the agora, a garland crowning each curly head. A wide-shouldered warrior hefted a sledgehammer and dealt a bullock a mighty blow between the eyes. It stumbled on the altar. A dark shape dressed in brilliant white stepped forward to make incisions at each jugular. Steady streams of black blood poured forth. The man's large mane of black hair was nearly invisible in the darkness.

"Kallias," Melaina whispered.

A fire in the square's center flamed, grew, and raged, the roar and crackle sending sparks in streaming trails to the heavens. The first sacrifice was for Hestia, goddess of the hearth, followed by one for Zeus, father of gods and mortals. They sacrificed to all twelve Olympian gods, each given pulsing blood from one bullock and the bones and fat carefully laid upon the frantic fire: Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus.

Kallias shared the officiating with the priest of Apollo from the island of Delos, their white robes streaked with blood. Their voices roared above the crowd's babble, calling to Apollo, god of light and order; Ares, god of war; Athena, protectress of cities and benefactress of Athens. From each they pleaded the salvation of Greece and that their warriors find courage to stand their ground, ships find favorable seas, and weapons find their marks.

It was a great sacrifice and a great feast followed. Red meat was filleted and roasted over the fire. Hot smoking wedges of dripping flesh disappeared into the crowd. Melaina was given a chunk without plate or knife and greedily devoured it. The succulent juice ran down her arm and trickled off her elbow.

As the feast ended, a cry went up for one last prayer. A lull followed, as it seemed each priest expected the other to step forward. A lightning bolt struck a nearby hilltop, followed immediately by a crash of thunder. Melaina heard someone shout, "The maid! The maid!" She felt a tingle flash across her cheeks.

Her mother nudged Melaina forward. "They want you," she said.

The call to prayer was irresistible. Melaina elevated herself onto a platform beside the statue of Athena alongside that of Ajax, legendary hero of Salamis. She was surprised at the excitement her presence sent through the crowd and felt a grip of fear as all eyes fell upon her.

She knew instantly what her prayer would be, and it came as a fully formed gift. She recognized the need of those going into battle tomorrow for leadership from long-dead heroes. She'd heard the words of Homer sung in the halls of Eleusis, and the legend of the great warrior Ajax in the Trojan War hundreds of years earlier. Ajax's father had been king of Salamis. She lifted her arms as she'd seen her mother. Her words started low, and the crowd bunched forward, the better to hear her, but gradually she found the resonance within her breast, and though some would later say she only spoke her words, others say she sang.

"O troubled warrior of ancient times, frenzied man of arms whose bloodthirst remains unquenched. Ajax! Lord of divine Salamis, warrior of incurable rage, put aside your eternal anger at Odysseus over Achilles' arms and hear our plea. Son of Telamon, namesake of eagles, your motherland calls through seven centuries for you to walk amongst us again. Lead these warriors into battle against the evil forces that would strip us of our freedom. Rise up from the Underworld to protect those who still love you. When you took your own life, you deprived us of your wise council and stout heart. We still suffer your neglect. Come to us now. Turn your heart's high passion to savagery. Lead our warriors to victory on the morrow. Bring that madness you unleashed when you butchered wretched beasts, turn it now upon Persia. Seek out Hermes, guide of ghosts in the Undergloom, bid him bring you hither. Help us, dear Ajax! Your countrymen command your help."

As she finished, all stayed silent, shocked by the power and depth of her prayer. Light rain swept over them and a song erupted. Many more were present than Melaina had thought. From her vantage point, she saw the crowd spilling out of the courtyard into streets and alleyways, heard a chorus of voices burst forth with such volume it frightened her.

Melaina felt a bear-like arm squeeze her about the shoulders. Aeschylus. "Well done," he said. "Well done indeed. If Hellas doesn't survive, it certainly won't be because of a broken spirit. I've never seen them so eager for battle."

CHAPTER 11: The Battle of Salamis

During the night, a noise woke Melaina. She realized her mother was no longer with her. Eyelids still heavy with sleep, she stumbled from the chamber and followed the sound of arguing voices. Just as she was to enter a room off the courtyard, where it appeared a fight was about to break out, an arm pulled her aside, and a soft but firm hand covered her mouth. It was her mother, who'd been crouched in secrecy behind a stone couch near the door. She whispered in Melaina's ear.

"Back to bed with you. If the men catch us, we'll be flogged."

Melaina's first taste of disobeying her mother while back at Eleusis had infected her with contrariness, and this business of spying on men far too exciting to walk away from. "I have to hear," she whispered, settling back into her mother's hideaway. They struggled physically a moment, and Melaina, realizing that her strength matched her mother's, simply held her ground and wore her mother down. The two listened as violent words emanated from the doorway.

Melaina recognized the voices of Kallias and Aeschylus, but a third voice eluded her until her mother whispered, "Themistocles, the Athenian general." Gradually Melaina put it together. Unbelievably, the War Council had again argued, some still set on withdrawing to the Isthmus behind the great wall being built there, others wishing to flee even farther to the coast of Italy. Themistocles, desperate to do something, had pulled together this select group of coconspirators, shunning even his closest advisors.

Again, Aeschylus was the enraged one. "If Eurybiades, in his incredible folly, is not willing to stand and fight, smash his head with a stone! Let vultures have him. The fleet will follow you!"

"No!" said Themistocles. "Murder is not the answer. We must remove retreat as an option."

"You do that," said Kallias, "and if Xerxes decides not to attack, he can starve us out without losing a man."

"That concerns me too," said Themistocles. "It was the great weakness of my plan to evacuate to Salamis all along. We must block our own retreat and force Xerxes to attack."

"Then all's lost," said Aeschylus. "We're a pack of fools!" He fell quiet for a moment. "Unless.... Let's not be rash. Perhaps you can accomplish both at a single stroke. Send word to Xerxes of the general's plan to escape Salamis. He'll block the retreat and be forced into action."

"That's no solution," put in Kallias. "You'd never convince Xerxes."

Silence filled the room for so long that Melaina wondered if the men had left.

"I think it might work," said Themistocles, finally. "Can you imagine any words sweeter to Xerxes than that the Hellenes have turned coward and plan to slip away during the night?"

Aeschylus laughed. "What fool would tell Xerxes?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when a new voice rose. "I'm your fool," it said. "I've been behind Xerxes' lines before and came away unharmed."

"Sicinnus," her mother whispered into Melaina's ear, "Themistocles' slave."

But Melaina already remembered the voice as belonging to one of the men who'd been with them when they charged the Persian camp on the way back from Brauron.

"If you do this thing," said Themistocles, "by all that's divine and with these good Hellenes as witness, I'll give you freedom and make you a rich man. Take Xerxes the message. Tell him the Hellene generals are at dagger tips with each other and will turn on one another when pressed."

Kallias added, "Say that many wish for a Persian victory and will fight for him when the tide turns. His own vanity will make him believe it."

With that, Melaina and Myrrhine, fearing they'd be discovered, slipped quietly back to their chamber. Neither could sleep, so they whiled away the silence standing before a second-floor window overlooking the eastern half of the island and the dark waters of the strait. As the sky turned pale, the stone halls echoed with the clank of armor. Women wept as husbands strapped on swords, hefted spears. Children cried, running after their fathers. Melaina heard a noise at the entryway, then saw a dark shape.

Myrrhine said, "Aeschylus! I thought you'd have assumed your command by now."

"You must not stay on Salamis," he said, entering the room. "By afternoon, it'll be overrun." He turned to Melaina. "A young virgin like you would be raped unmercifully. The aristocracy of Eleusis must survive. I've ordered you two evacuated to the west coast of Salamis where you'll be rowed across to Megara and taken by land to Patras. You'll sail for Siris, a colony in south Italy. An oracle has foretold that Athenians will live there some day. Perhaps the time has come."

"But Uncle," Melaina protested, "we're not really Athenians, and anyway, just this evening you saw how the soldiers depend on our presence to bolster their spirits. We can't abandon them." She wanted to add that she had great confidence in Themistocles' plan to fool Xerxes but thought better of it.

"Melaina," and his face filled with sadness, "we'll not win the sea battle."

Melaina dropped her eyes. "Grandfather believes we will. The gods will intercede."

"The gods are at odds over our fate, as they were at Troy. You're young, idealistic. Think of the smoke clouds over Athens. The gods didn't protect the Akropolis. You're a woman, still a girl really. These are men's decisions. Run now or you'll be at their mercy."

"Your uncle is right," said her mother. "We must get you to safety."

Melaina shook her head and backed away from both of them. She spoke directly to her uncle, looked him directly in the eye as no woman should. "If you knew what happened at Eleusis two nights ago, you wouldn't be so impressed with Persian might. Even my father, your brother Kynegeiros, will stand beside you on the battlefield."

Mention of Aeschylus' long-dead brother gave Aeschylus pause. She went to him and threw her arms about his waist, her forehead reaching but to this powerful man's tangled forest of beard. She leaned back, looked up into his dark eyes. "I saw him in the Underworld, dear uncle. He was well and strong. He watches over me, over us all. He gave no warning but said to be fearless."

The sadness seemed to lift from Aeschylus' eyes. His back straightened. "Great Zeus! Perhaps it's my age catching up with me. I'm not the man I was at Marathon. Watching Kynegeiros sacrifice himself instilled fear in my heart. Ashamed am I of myself when I see your courage." He turned quickly from her and vanished.

Melaina heard his heavy footsteps loud on the stone courtyard, followed by shouting and the sounds of horses' hooves galloping into the distance. Melaina turned to her mother. "I'm going too," she said. "If all Hellas perishes in flame, I'll go up with it." Melaina had grabbed her robe and heard her mother call after her.

"You'll be in the way. You'll get trampled. You'll distract them from the business of war."

Melaina shouted back as she left, "I'll have to be bound hand and foot," and was out the door. In the courtyard, she flagged down Kallias, who was just mounting his chariot, his four midnight stallions snorting and pawing the earth. "Take me! I must watch the sea battle," she said.

Kallias was a man possessed, his arms working needless motions with the reins and whip, eyes vacant as if he'd already given up his soul to dark Hades. He hesitated but an instant, then grabbed her arm and pulled her aboard as he put the lash to the horses. Melaina heard her mother's frantic cry as they shot forward.

As they approached the shore, Melaina saw the dark shapes of heavily armed hoplites boarding the battleships. Seagulls shrieked and dogs ran circles barking and growling. Kallias shoved Melaina off the chariot and dismounted himself, handed the reins to a slave and ran to join his men.

Melaina dodged a wagon pulled by a frantic pair of saw-voiced donkeys, their frantic master lashing out with his whip and cursing them forward. She was lucky not to be trampled. She saw the triremes put to sea, their oars churning the surf. To the east of the cove, she saw more ships making ready. There, the beach ended and the landmass turned north, forming a promontory with a hill overlooking the strait. Just the spot to view the battle, she thought.

She pulled her chiton to her ankles and ran through sand, then up the hillside, dry grass crunching beneath her sandals. She stopped at the edge of the cliff where the headland abruptly ended. She stood overlooking dark water, peered down into the surf. Across the narrow strait, she saw Athens shrouded in murky morning light, the smoke-streaked sky above. She looked to the south, beyond the cove, where the Athenians had finished boarding their boats and sat quietly in the harbor treading water. In the distance, she saw the tip of Psyttaleia Island. She turned north, saw the dark shore of Eleusis where her ancient grandfather haunted the halls of the Telesterion, worried over him.

The eastern sky lightened, and directly across the narrows, on a hill in the midst of the gathering Persian land forces, Melaina saw the faint speck of a man emerge from amongst the multitude to mount a golden throne. He could only be Xerxes, King of Kings, come to watch his mighty fleet destroy the Greek navy.

Melaina looked south again, toward the Piraeus, and her heart sank. Now she understood Aeschylus' staunch belief that all would perish before Persia. Had she sent her uncle to his grave? The sea itself was made of Persian ships, dark shapes filling the channel and spreading into the distance.

The sun's golden chariot crested the horizon, its first bright rays falling on Melaina. She'd discarded her robe and stood on the hill overlooking the narrow waterway, her white himation flowing in the breeze, glowing. Some would later say a goddess taller than a tree stood on the hilltop, a bright light emanating from her as she protected the Greek fleet.

To the north, the Corinthian triremes foamed the sea with oars, emerged, and sailed north toward Eleusis with square sails set as if in retreat. This was the signal that would fill Xerxes with hope, if Sicinnus' mission had gone well.

Melaina held her breath and watched the Persian ships for any sign. Finally, she realized they moved. "Yes! Yes!" she screamed. Persians ships bolted north into the strait in hot pursuit of the Corinthian vessels, unaware that the heart of the Greek fleet lay in wait in the cove ready to charge their flank.

Her years of living at the edge of the sea had taught Melaina of the morning swell brought by southerly winds. Now she realized that Themistocles must be holding his ships in check, waiting to put the Persian ships at a further disadvantage. Then oars splashed as Greeks charged into the narrows. Trumpets blared and warriors raised a chorus to Apollo. Melaina was jolted as the paean metamorphosed into a song for Ajax. They chanted her prayer from the night before. She heard the crunch of the triremes' bronze beaks against Persian hulls, screams. Persian ships foundered leaving their cursing crews floating helplessly in the drink.

Melaina saw a flash of light, as if from another earthquake, then felt the sudden surge of her own power and a flood of internal warmth and peace. The fleet's trumpets again sounded, and she heard a splitting shriek, like the bugle of a great beast, and her vision shifted. She no longer saw killing, men spilling from gored vessels to be butchered like tunnies, beaten by club and oar. She saw shades, the tens of thousands from the Underworld, sending the Persians into panic. She glimpsed souls of the newly dead milling about, and quick-witted Hermes herding them into flocks. She heard Apollo's lyre, rhythmic music, misery set to some grand syncopation, elegant, beautiful. She felt unbearable pain, splitting agony, terror extinguished by darkness.

CHAPTER 12: Epilepsy

Myrrhine saw her daughter fall as if struck by an arrow loosed from some angry god's bow. She was quickly at the scene, hiding her daughter within the confines of her own cloak, shoving a corner of it between Melaina's teeth to prevent her tongue from suffering more damage. Already the foamy phlegm was shaded crimson.

Kleito was at Myrrhine's side, helping shield the bundle of quaking limbs from the eyes of the curious. Little Euripides came with her, bounding about, shouting, "Is she dead, mamma? Is she dead?"

When Melaina's spasms stopped, the two of them, along with a couple of handmaids, hailed a wagon and took Melaina back to Kleito's home, which was now deserted and hauntingly quiet. Such were the numbers who'd gone to the beach to witness the sea battle.

The two women put Melaina to bed, covered her with warm blankets, and stood over her, both afraid to speak. Euripides darted to and fro, now on this side, now that. His mother kept a constant vigil restraining him.

Finally, Kleito broke the silence. "It's the sacred sickness."

Myrrhine responded slowly, her voice crushed by heavy sobs. "It's rarely called 'sacred,' mostly known as the 'falling sickness.'

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"The stigma. Even Melaina doesn't know. She had it after her father died, but it seemed to cure itself. Her recent attacks came while sleeping. She's never had one while awake."

"Do you want help? I can cure her."

"Oh, could you Kleito? The uncertainty fills me with such terror."

"Come! I know a plant, hellebore. It can help."

"You have it?"

"It's dangerous. Can't keep it in the house with little Euripides into everything. For a child, it can be fatal. We'll have to go up the mountain."

"Will it be safe?"

"Certainly. I use it frequently to evacuate the bowels."

"She might wake while we're gone."

"She's resting peacefully. Leave her with the handmaids. I'll need you to help with the harvest." She turned to the two girls standing by the door. "Remain with the little priestess, and tell no one what you've seen. If you do, I'll slit both your throats and throw you to the dogs." Then she turned to Euripides. "Stay with the girls. We'll return shortly. While the men are off killing each other, we'll restore a life."

With that, Kleito grabbed a basket into which she placed a many-cloved garlic bulb, a cup of olive oil, another of thick wine, and a small two-edged sword. "I gather hellebore in the daylight for curing seizures; otherwise it's gathered at night." The two exited through the backyard, which was overgrown with cultivated plants, both medicinal and dietary, but trudged beyond, up the rocky slope and then down into a shrub-covered ravine.

Myrrhine wondered what the marvelous plant would look like that would save her daughter from the dreaded seizures. She asked, "How dangerous is it, the plant I mean."

Kleito stopped and looked at her directly. "Do you trust me?"

Myrrhine realized that this was the heart of the matter. Did she trust her friend with her daughter's life?

"You don't," said Kleito. "Your hesitation tells all. We haven't time to argue this. She should receive the treatment as soon as she wakes from the stupor. I'll harvest the plant and prepare the posset. If you trust me enough to allow me to administer it, I will. Otherwise, I'll dilute it for the goats. I haven't purged them in a while."

Kleito glanced back over the bay. "Look!"

In her concern for her daughter, Myrrhine had all but forgotten the sea battle raging in the distant strip of water separating them from Attica. From their vantage point on the slope, she saw the narrows littered with wreckage and corpses drifting away from the dense body of engaged ships, but she had no way of telling the sway of battle. A shudder went through her. If they lost, how little the hellebore would matter. The Persians would be upon them before the plant was broth.

"Look for a leaf with long, broad divisions," said Kleito. "It creeps along the ground. Grows everywhere. I have to pull it from the grapes or the wine becomes a purge." No sooner had she spoken than she stooped at a plant with pale-pink flowers and lobed deep-green leaves. "Black hellebore," she said. "Stand back!"

She took the two-edged sword from the basket, drew a circle round the plant and shoved the blade into the ground next to it. She motioned to Myrrhine, "Further, to the windward side. Put the basket on the ground."

Myrrhine did as requested and wondered at all the precautions for harvesting a plant the essence of which Melaina would have to drink.

Kleito took the garlic bulb from the basket and broke off several cloves, peeled and shoved them into her mouth, and handed two to Myrrhine. "Eat," Kleito said.

Myrrhine chewed the crunchy pulp, her mouth hot and eyes watering.

Kleito took a draught of wine and handed the small bottle to Myrrhine. "Chew it well and wash it down." She poured a puddle of olive oil into her own palm and handed the cup to Myrrhine. "I need the oil because I'll handle the plant. You may also if you wish, otherwise, stand upwind or your body will swell." Kleito anointed her face and arms, then bent to the task of digging up the plant with the sword while standing on its east side. "Say a prayer while I unearth it."

Myrrhine was caught off guard but quickly formulated a prayer.

Before the words came, Kleito spoke again. "Keep watch both right and left. Danger to Melaina's life will be revealed by the flight of an eagle."

Myrrhine prayed, "Wide-bosomed Earth, ever-sure foundation of all, old one who nourishes all things..."

"No, no, no!" said Kleito. "Asklepios, god of herbal craft. I need his guidance. Earth has already done her work. I could say it myself but figured since I had an expert with me..."

Myrrhine's mind raced, wondering if she'd actually let Kleito administer the concoction to her daughter. She prayed. "O mortal one turned immortal by your father Phoebus Apollon, Lord Paian, healer of sick and injured, blessed spirit of growth and blossoming, bring your divine guidance to Kleito that she may work your wonders on my sick offspring, as you would your own daughter, Hygieia, health herself, your blameless consort. Deliver this small hellebore into our hands that we might end this savagery afflicting Melaina. Ever we'll sacrifice mighty roosters in your name."

"That's better," said Kleito. "You start slow but redeem yourself well."

Myrrhine kept watch, not just left and right, but in all directions, turning rapidly lest she miss the winged creature that would foretell Melaina's doom.

Once the plant was fully exposed and lifted free, Kleito, skin glistening with oil, cleaned the dark earth from it and, cutting the slender lower roots from its base, stuffed the irregular nodular pieces in a leather bag, cinched it tight. Then she replanted the remaining foliage, said a few words in defense of her actions, and that she'd wished the plant no harm.

Back down the hill they went, Myrrhine keeping her eyes glued to the battle still raging in the channel. She noticed ships moving south, away from the action. Had the Persians already defeated the Greeks and were now sending ships in search of new prey? Myrrhine, though appreciative of Kleito's efforts, had made up her mind. None of the concoction would ever touch Melaina's lips.

Inside, they found her resting peacefully, though little Euripides maintained a vigil so closely bent over Melaina it was a wonder she could breathe. Kleito immediately fell to work at her craft in the next room, telling everyone to stay out. Soon she returned with a half cup of steaming liquid. She handed it to Myrrhine saying, "Your choice."

Myrrhine raised the cup to her nose. A faint odor, not immediately recognizable, lofted about the cup. She touched it to her lips. A bitter and slightly acrid taste spread to the back of her tongue. She'd expected a thick rich brew, perhaps with bits of root making it hard to swallow. This thin bitter-flavored decoction looked harmless enough. She wouldn't mind having some herself. And if it could cure Melaina...

"I've used two ingredients," advised Kleito, walking around straightening first the sofa, then Melaina's covers, as if disinterested in the whole affair. "The hellebore, of course, but also a little poppy called Herakleia, an emetic. The hellebore purges downwards, Herakleia upwards. The phlegm is the problem. We have to rid her of it."

Myrrhine thought how silly she'd been. Surely this simple mixture couldn't be a threat to Melaina, no matter Kleito's histrionics during harvesting.

Melaina stirred. They waited until she was on the verge of waking. Myrrhine then sat on the edge of her daughter's bed and, with Kleito's help, raised Melaina's head. Her eyelids opened a little, not enough to indicate awareness. Myrrhine put the cup to her daughter's lips and Melaina reflexively emptied it, smacked twice, then settled back to sleep.

"No!" said Kleito. "Get her up, keep her moving. Rest kills the action of hellebore." Then she quickly left the room to investigate a flurry of activity in the courtyard, which escalated from a clamor to screams.

Myrrhine scanned the voices for those of the barbarians. She helped her daughter from bed, as Melaina regained consciousness, asking, "What happened to me? Why am I back here? What's happened to the fleet?"

A series of shouts and screams from the courtyard sent Myrrhine scurrying from the room and into the courtyard. What stretched before her appeared to be the battlefield itself. The injured and dying lined the courtyard walls, and more were being carried in. The groans of the injured were eclipsed only by the shrieks of women as they found their husbands and sons among the casualties, some having gone hysterical before the body of a loved one.

Kleito wasn't among them.

Myrrhine stood before a man shot through by an arrow, a young woman bent over him. The arrow had thrust squarely in his chest beside the nipple, piercing him through the lung. The bronze point issued by the shoulder blade. Another spear, having passed through, opened his midsection. He tenderly held his own entrails in his hands as though cradling a child, breathing his last breaths as the mists of death seeped across his eyes. The young woman spoke to him. "Oh Attikus, most dear to me. How grievous that you've returned dying. Woe be the day you left my side! Now evil will follow evil for our three sons." He was a large man, a great smooth-trunked poplar felled among the forest where he lay now like a timber.

Myrrhine passed through the gate to peer into the channel at the battle, but found it hidden by a eucalyptus grove. Through the trees came a shouting woman and two men dragging a third. The woman was Kleito, the man dragged, Mnesarchides.

Through the gate they came, Kleito in hot control of the situation, through the courtyard and into their home, Kleito shouting orders to slave women to prepare a pallet where she could tend her husband. Myrrhine ran to gather rags, a bowl of steaming water.

With all the dead and injured, Myrrhine had forgotten Melaina. When she'd left to find Kleito, Melaina seemed fine, cloudy headed but walking. Now she'd slumped on the bed, eyes bugged with urgency.

"Vomit!" Melaina said.

Myrrhine retrieved one of the two pots placed at her daughter's bedside, and quickly Melaina emptied stomach bile, a sour stench hovering about them. No sooner had the forceful stomach cramps subsided than she sounded another alarm.

"Toilet!"

Myrrhine found the other pot, and Melaina quickly emptied her bowels accompanied by great flatulence and many groans. She never left the sitting position, although a handmaid quickly replaced the pot. Melaina cradled a bowl in her lap and continued filling it with black stomach contents, issuing great belches. The stench grew, and Myrrhine recognized the greatly magnified smell of bitter hellebore.

Throughout the afternoon the din in the courtyard increased, and along with it, the sounds of Melaina's evacuation of the body from both ends. Just when Myrrhine thought the poor girl was really in danger, all stopped. Melaina settled back on the bed, slept a while, and toward evening ingested a little gruel, then began to tend the injured herself.

Myrrhine assisted Kleito with Mnesarchides. A spear point had pierced his left arm, leaving it inert, and a sword had sliced the muscle of his right leg. Once the bleeding stopped, his life out of danger, Kleito calmed, though she wouldn't leave his side. Myrrhine tended others in the courtyard where earth ran black with blood.

As a pink glow settled into the horizon, the halls of Kleito's home turned dark. The truth of the matter began to dawn on them: no Persians were coming. A great chorus erupted from shore with the fleet's return, while a full moon rose in the east over smoldering Athens. The strait was littered with war wreckage. Moonlight set an eerie glow to the landscape as the Queen of the Dark World illuminated Hermes' labor of shepherding shades to her bosom.

Myrrhine was inside talking to Melaina about her seizure, trying to explain the inexplicable, that she'd had the illness since she was a child, when the men returned. Sophocles stood in the doorway, a startled look on his face, speechless. Aeschylus came charging past Sophocles as a great lion might, eyes flashing, roaring his words. "Brace yourself for the miraculous!" he said. "We've held our own. Never in my life have I seen anything like it! I knew we could win at Marathon on land, but this battle was at sea. The strait runs red with Persian blood, the waves a soup of Asian bodies."

Myrrhine slinked back. Aeschylus was drunk with death, murder seemingly still at the edge of his actions. Men went for each other like wolves, whirling upon one another with ferocious hugging.

"Hellas is still alive!" Aeschylus shouted. "Tomorrow we'll finish the job." He brandished a magnificent Persian sword, jewels sparkling along the hilt.

Sophocles, a great terror still in his eyes, turned and vanished.

CHAPTER 13: Xerxes' Lament

At the opposite shore, high atop his golden throne on a knoll overlooking the strait, Xerxes watched the sea battle unfold, a golden umbrella shading him from the sun. Great was the power of his Persian ships entering the narrows, greater still Xerxes' pride that he'd conquer Greece where even his father, Darius the Great, had failed. But the fleet's advantage became its doom. The great number of ships quickly clogged the channel, oars fouling one another. They were unable to maneuver when Greek war vessels bore down. Xerxes heard the thud and grind of bronze beaks as the rams of Greek triremes sunk deep into Persian hulls. His front line panicked and tried to turn tail, only to run afoul of those astern pressing forward to show their valor. Oarless hulls capsized, corpses floated, and soon reef and beach were strewn with dead.

The first blow to Xerxes' own confidence arrived with the body of his brother. He remembered how their father had doted upon Ariabignes, and now heard his father's great booming voice cry from the grave. "Your hot youth hath unleashed a spring of evils upon Persia, my son." Xerxes watched in quiet disbelief as even those flung into the waters drowned, while Greeks who ended up in the drink swam ashore.

When a group of Phoenician commanders docked and came to him making excuses, Xerxes could no longer restrain his anger. "Cowards!" he cried, then called forth the hooded messenger of death, and ordered the commanders' heads laid upon the chopping block.

Having turned on his own men, Xerxes felt cut off and alone in Europe and felt anxiety over his supply lines being spread across a continent. He'd just lost control of the seas. The Greeks had now but to cut the cables of his bridges across the Hellespont to trap him in a hostile land where the gods were against him.

CHAPTER 14: The Funeral Pyre

Melaina woke tired, grumpy. Shouts of those leaving to join the fleet echoed again in the courtyard. Her chamber was dark, her mother gone. Memory of the previous day was one long blur punctuated by a recollection of nausea and vomiting. The world was a different place this morning. Every sound, sight, and smell was now tainted with the horror of epilepsy. She felt none of yesterday's eagerness to see the fleet disembark.

Her mother had tried to console Melaina; after all, Kleito had given her the hellebore. Kleito had told Melaina that epilepsy was caused when phlegm from the head stopped life-giving air from flowing into the veins. But Melaina wasn't so sure. She'd momentarily seen the world as the gods see it, remembered gentle Hermes herding the souls of the freshly dead, the exquisite euphoria. Mortals had seemed but actors in some great tragedy written by the gods. She had been a quasi-divine power viewing the battle as might a spectator in the theatre. The logic behind it all had been revealed to her. Just a blink of that divine world was worth her whole existence, a gift no one else would understand. She wondered if epilepsy was what her father had meant when he'd told her that not all burdens are a curse. Yet she was terrorized by the memory of the pain just before she collapsed.

Melaina walked from the women's quarters to the courtyard. Since the chaos of war had forced women into the open, they tended campfires, rushed back and forth looking for missing children, and lined the streets preparing their dead for burial while bracing themselves for a new wave of casualties. In the distance, Melaina saw the men laboring to get damaged triremes seaworthy, heard shouts and mallets pounding in the cove.

She worried about Sophocles. He'd made that short appearance after the battle, then disappeared. Had he suffered some terrible personal defeat? At least, she knew he'd survived.

Melaina found her mother with an old woman who was trying to decide whether to simply bury her husband and son or have them cremated and bury the bones. As priestess of Demeter, Myrrhine was much in demand. When Melaina appeared at her side, the woman turned to her, saying, "Kore, Kore," with respect and childlike desperation as she groped for Melaina, took her by the hand to a beloved corpse, raised her voice in anguish, and ripped fistfuls of hair from her own head. The woman lacerated her cheeks with her fingernails until little rivulets of blood streaked her face. With that, Melaina stopped her. "No more unseemly mourning," she said. "Limit your grief. Please, do not destroy yourself."

Particularly desperate were those whose loved ones had never been initiated into the Mysteries. Their souls were destined for a shade's existence on the Plain of Asphodel where they drank from the river Lethe, forgot the past, and forever retained a clouded mind. Those who'd been initiated resided in the Elysian Fields, the Isle of the Blessed, where they lived a carefree existence with the gods.

Even women whose loved ones had been initiated needed reassuring. These came to Melaina begging to be told of Kore and what Kore did with the dead after taking them from Hermes. They needed to know that Kore was gentle, understanding. The more jealous wanted the specifics about with whom their deceased husbands would be allowed to socialize. One woman demanded to know how she might keep Aphrodite from her husband, tears turning to jealous rage.

By mid-morning, boats of the Greek fleet began filtering back to the docks, but it wasn't until Aeschylus returned that Melaina and her mother found out what'd happened. Aeschylus looked strangely out of sorts, depressed, a pensive shadow of thoughtfulness invading his disposition.

"We manned the triremes with new resolve this morning," he said quietly, "anticipating a new wave of Persian ships, but when Helios first shed light on Phaleron, none were in sight. They'd fled during the night." A look of confusion, even disbelief, swept across his massive brow. "We've won the battle for the seas."

"Sophocles," asked Melaina, "is he well?"

"Well, but suffering from his first battle anguish."

Melaina had pondered Sophocles' sudden appearance and departure. What is the nature of his suffering? she wondered.

With the return of the fleet, mourning for the dead gathered strength. Wails passed wave-on-wave over the island as grieving women washed corpses in seawater, anointed them with olive oil, cleansed and bandaged wounds. They wrapped each corpse in a white shroud, carefully anointed the hair, closed the eyes, and laid it on the bier. Moaning, they covered the feet with laurel branches and placed a linen chin-strap around the head to prevent the jaw from sagging open. As a show of sanctity, they placed a crown of myrtle upon each head. Last of all, they inserted a one-obol coin between the lips as payment to grumpy Charon for the ferry ride across the Styx and on to the dark shore of the Underworld.

Women performed all these acts. Women had brought the men into the world, women must see to their departure.

That evening, Aeschylus called Melaina and Myrrhine into the banquet hall before the hearth of Hestia. This was the first time since arriving at Salamis that Melaina had seen Aeschylus' wife, Philokleia, and his two children. Thank goodness Philokleia hasn't heard of my epilepsy, Melaina thought. All Salamis would know by now. Melaina held little Euripides in her arms as he clung fiercely to her neck. Mnesarchides hobbled in, pale as death and leaning heavily on bulky Kleito.

Aeschylus spoke over the thud of axes felling trees for funeral pyres. "What I'm about to say," he began, "should not be retold. We know little for certain, although all our spies tell much the same story. We know for sure that the Persian fleet has fled east into the Aegean. Xerxes is in a panic that we might cut his bridges across the Hellespont, trapping him in Hellas. This may force his hand on the ground. He could make a land assault on the Isthmus and the Spartan's great wall. If he does, Eleusis is in danger. Let us remain optimistic, toning down our fear. It would be sacrilege to forget the dead before their interment. I've sent a scout to Eleusis. My concern now is for the Hierophant. The old fool should never have stayed behind."

Yes, Melaina thought, and I should not have left my dowry.

That night, Melaina lay awake listening to the wail of mourners mixed with the heavy whack-on-whack of axes, sounds all blown about by night breezes. She worried over the plight of her grandfather and her dowry, longed to once again run her fingers through the hidden compartment's ancient coins.

She felt humiliated by her epilepsy, felt fragile and stalked by a frenzied madness. Her mother had shut tight the jar of gossip that could have rippled through the families of Eleusis. The isolation here at Kleito's had been fortuitous. Thank goodness Agido and Anaktoria hadn't seen me, she thought. Even Uncle Aeschylus didn't know. If Kleito's cure worked, this would be the end of it, but Melaina wasn't optimistic. She'd been allowed to dip into the divine. Surely the gods permitted that for a reason, one not as yet revealed. Close to her breast, she held fast the blacksmith's broach, the golden eagle, symbol of Prometheus' punishment. To think you are divine, or even above other mortals, she knew was the great arrogance.

*

Her mother woke Melaina long before sunup. The procession of the dead had begun. They stepped outside into starlight and saw a cortege of horse-drawn hearses stretching through the streets. A torchbearer went before each, followed by men carrying weapons in one hand and pounding their heads with the other in the customary display of grief. Then came the hearse, followed by wailing women ripping their hair and clothes. An aulos player, his two-fluted instrument piping a mournful tune learned on some foreign shore, brought up the rear.

Melaina walked with her mother beside the train and through the dark until the procession reached the sea. Here the night's tree felling had produced timber now piled high along the beach. The restless surf gently tossed about the mustered battleships.

Melaina said, "I've never understood why we cremate the bodies, then bury the bones."

Her mother said nothing at first, then replied, "When Demeter came to Eleusis, she nurtured Metaneira's infant son, Demophoon, and while doing so placed him in the hearth to burn away his mortality. If Metaneira hadn't foolishly stopped Demeter, she'd have made him immortal."

"Fire can do that?"

"It nurtures the soul. This world's tribulations are the 'fires of life' given by the gods to make ready the soul for the Afterlife. If we don't experience the spiritual fires, we'll be stillborn in the next world. Demeter was simply accelerating the process. At the end of earthly life, we finish it off with literal fire, cremation."

"We are the beaten metal in the smithy of the gods."

"Well put, Melaina. Fire is the gateway between this world and the next."

"Palaemon's words," she said, "spoken to me but a few days ago."

"The smith is wise man. If he wasn't, I wouldn't put up with you visiting him."

"But why bury the bones?"

"Burial is the impregnation of Earth. We must be conceived within Earth's womb to be reborn in the Elysian Fields. Bones are symbolic of the soul's seed."

"As in the initiation?"

"Shhh. Don't speak of such things in public. The uninitiated might hear."

"But some don't cremate."

"Not everyone believes the same. Many want the body whole when left in Earth's charge."

Melaina looked north toward Eleusis, dreading that she might see a red glow, telltale sign of Persian fire. She added Palaemon to her list of worries should the Persians mount a land assault.

Along shore before the docked triremes, stacks of timber stretched into darkness. Each corpse was unloaded from its hearse and laid gently on the mound of limbs. When the funeral pyres were piled high with the dead, the male relatives stepped forward, cut dark locks of hair from their own heads and laid them across the corpses. The men dug deep pits, slaughtered a great number of beasts: cows, sheep, goats, pigs, and let the black blood flow into the earth. Bones, fat, and entrails they laid beside each corpse. The glistening red flesh they set aside for the feast to follow.

Two priests stepped forward, each carrying two torches, and approached Myrrhine and Melaina. They offered the two priestesses the flaming timbers.

Melaina realized then that she and her mother were to have the honor of lighting the pyres. Following victory over the Persians, rumors had spread that Ajax had been seen on the helm of the lead ship. Her prayer the night before battle was still on everyone's lips. As Melaina wrapped her fists about the rough stem of the two torches, she felt a wave of goose bumps. She remembered her vision of Kore from the night they performed the Mysteries, after seeing her father's apparition. Kore had carried two torches.

The women touched torches to the fresh-cut timber, but though they lingered with flames licking the gnarled bark, the fire would not light. Her mother stood back from the pyre, faced north, and motioned for the crowd's holy silence. Then the two priestesses held high the torches, so that they spread flickering light upon them all and the restless triremes afloat nearby. Myrrhine prayed aloud:

"O strong-hearted brothers: cold Boreas, god of north wind, and warm-whispering Zephyrus, god of brightening west wind, children of air, light-winged ones of the far reaches. Blow a lofty, quivering breeze upon these broken boughs; ignite our pyre so we may send these cold corpses to their rightful place in the Underworld."

Mother and daughter walked off in opposite directions along the beach, the flames now greedily enveloping the fallen limbs. The pyre was soon borne aloft by the roaring of a mighty internal wind carrying with it the chorus of wails. The stench of burning flesh filled the air with the rewards of war.

The igniting ritual complete, mother and daughter reunited to watch the women caretake the fire, nursing their loved ones into the Afterlife. The women's wailing mixed with the flames to form the confluence of two mighty skyward-flowing streams, one of sound, the other fire, wherein marks the entrance to Hades.

Soon the glowing skeleton of embers stood as one mighty deceased beast. Gradually the glow faded as pink-shrouded dawn broke to eclipse all but the brightest embers. When all was reduced to ashes, the women retrieved the bones of their beloved, and families who lived there on Salamis retired to their own cemeteries for the burials. The refugees of Attica collected the bones of their loved ones in urns, but the burials would wait until they could return home.

Before anyone left, several generals stepped forward; among them were Eurybiades, commander-in-chief from Sparta; Kimon; Xanthippus; Themistocles, commander of the Athenian fleet and engineer of the victory; and many others Melaina didn't recognize. The generals stood on a rise before the assembled crowd. Themistocles spoke with a new confidence, perhaps puffed up a little by arrogance. His voice boomed over the crowd so that even those in ships offshore could hear.

"By taking my advice and engaging Xerxes here at Salamis, the War Council has saved Hellas, gained a great victory, and preserved the Peloponnese. Already Xerxes prepares his land forces for evacuation. Although the full extent of his retreat is unknown, this bodes well for all. Soon we'll return home. Athens has been liberated!"

Before he finished, Aeschylus pulled Melaina and Myrrhine from the crowd. His eyes flashed excitement. "I've word from Eleusis," he said. "The Persians never made it that far west. The entire town escaped unharmed, and even the old Hierophant is in good spirits. Already I have a boat waiting at the dock. Soon as you collect your things, you can return."

Grandfather was right after all, Melaina thought but did not say, biting her tongue just in time. That was close, she realized.

CHAPTER 15: The Isthmus of Corinth

When Melaina, Myrrhine and the rest of the women from Eleusis reached the dock for the boat ride home, Aeschylus and Kallias came to them again. The men were dressed in fresh white chitons with their himations draped over their shoulders leaving the torso bare, ends thrown back over the shoulder. Kallias had restrained his mass of black hair with a bright-green strophion.

Aeschylus told mother and daughter, "The War Council will hold an awards ceremony at the Isthmus. You two are requested to participate in the women's chorus."

Melaina was sorely disappointed. She'd spent so little time at Eleusis during the last year and felt like an exile, forever on the run. The epilepsy had escalated her growing sense of insecurity. She wanted to see her grandfather and hear the ring of the blacksmith's hammer.

Aeschylus added, "We're to award prizes for valor in battle."

Melaina laughed. "What better way to contaminate victory than with jealousy and malice." No sooner had she spoken than she regretted it, would have swatted the winged words from the air like mosquitoes, but they were already out biting ears.

Aeschylus' powerful, hair-framed face turned red. Melaina saw him struggle, lips working to voice some deadly admonition against her, but he fell silent. He turned to Kallias, "Why bother with insolent youth."

Melaina breathed a sigh of relief. She'd better watch her tongue. Never had she known her words to come so quickly, so thoughtlessly. Perhaps it was the epilepsy.

The men led the two women to a great battleship, a trireme standing before the docks like a sleek leviathan riding proudly above the waterline. It was so long, seemed to Melaina it stretched on forever. Her first excursion, aboard the boat to Salamis, had whetted her appetite for the sea. That'd been a merchant ship and, although a crew sat at the oars, was chiefly powered by sail. The trireme was a warship and propelled through the rough Aegean by one hundred and seventy oars. It rarely unfurled a sail. A raised deck ran the length of the ship, leaving the sides open for near-naked oarsmen on cushioned benches. Down the center, ten hoplite warriors wearing breastplates, helmets, and greaves, took up position, some standing while others knelt. They had swords strapped to their belts and carried spears and axes. Four Cretan archers with long bows and arrow-stuffed quivers stood alongside them. Seeing the deck stained black from battle blood, Melaina took a deep breath and forgot about returning to Eleusis.

Standing amongst the warriors was Xanthippus, the quiet man she'd seen at Phlya on the way back from Brauron, the man Kimon hated. Though she understood Kimon's anger, Xanthippus' short, stout frame and quiet but firm bearing, gave her a sense of security she gained from no other.

Xanthippus noticed the women and came forward.

Melaina dropped her eyes.

"Welcome," he said to both women, but turned to Melaina. "Never have I heard such a prayer as you gave the night before battle." He returned to his station by the helm.

Melaina overlooked this scene from her position on the elevated stern, the poop deck, glowing from Xanthippus' compliment. She felt at one with these men and met the eyes of warriors and oarsmen alike as they followed her every move. At a shout from Xanthippus, they pushed off and the aulete stamped his foot thrice, tooted on his twin pipes to sync the oarsmen. Melaina realized Xanthippus was the commander of this magnificent vessel, the captain.

Melaina loved the trireme immediately, loved the creak and groan of straining timbers, loved the sweaty smell of laboring men, their mumbles, light curses. Melaina felt the warship's wild energy, the power that could disembowel any vessel afloat. She heard the incessant grating of oars on tholepins, the threshing of seawater. What a mass of masculinity was housed within the motherly hull. She was reminded of her father and felt closer to him. He'd died a hoplite. She remembered her vision of him, his severed hand, and thought once more of her promise to him.

As oars foamed saltwater, Melaina and her mother stood astern with Aeschylus and Kallias by the huge steering paddles that swung at the vessel's sides. The helmsman touched now on one, then the other, to correct course. But her mother shrunk back behind Aeschylus and cast her eyes downward upon deck. She spoke to him, "Why have you brought us aboard a war vessel? Surely our presence here is forbidden."

"Rumors of Persian patrols," he said. "Xanthippus arranged it. Travel by land to the Isthmus is no longer possible. The Scironian Road was destroyed to keep Persians out of the Peloponnese."

At the forecastle standing alongside the bow officer, Melaina saw a thin form gazing off into the emerald water swiftly flowing toward them. This was young Sophocles, pensive, brooding. She wondered anew about his agony.

Melaina talked her uncle into taking her forward, "to see the deadly ram." Aeschylus balked, obviously concerned at parading her amongst the men, but her mother protested also, and that seemed to change his mind. Melaina wondered about this. She'd noticed a growing discontent between the two of them. Her mother always kept her distance when they spoke.

As Melaina and her uncle walked amongst the warriors to the prow, each armed man rose, gave ground. Melaina couldn't help smiling. When they reached the forecastle, fenced in by a solid parapet, Sophocles became aware of their presence and turned away, but not before Melaina caught a glimpse of his sad face, tear-filled eyes. He's suffered a tragedy, she thought, and wondered if someone close to him had fallen in battle.

A fine spray of saltwater chilled her cheeks as she peered over the edge at the great, two-pronged bronze ram protruding from the massive bow. The ram peeled the sea aside in thin transparent sheets. She wondered how many enemy hulls the ram had penetrated, how many men it had sent to their deaths? She understood why they named ships after goddesses, for this was indeed a divine being.

Melaina remained silent, and returned to the poop deck, not wanting to overextend her liberty. On the way, she noticed her mother standing at the railing next to Kallias—again witnessed her mother's interest in him—and thought what a striking couple they made. Kallias himself was as yet unmarried, and at thirty, highly ripe for it.

Because of the strong headwind, they'd not arrive until evening. The crew rowed eagerly over the depths of sea, the bay on the left, craggy shoreline to the right, passed the southern tip of Salamis, and sailed due east for the Isthmus of Corinth. Mid-afternoon, some of the men stowed their oars and broke out rations. As the sweet smell of yeast and honey swept past, Melaina watched them eating garlic, olives, grapes, barley biscuits. The boatswain brought Melaina and her mother a basket of wheat loaves, goat cheese, and chopped asphodel to eat with figs. They passed a wineskin around, and Melaina thirsted greedily at it. Soon, she felt a great urge to mix amongst the men, but restrained herself.

Her mother dragged Melaina below deck to a small compartment, where they spent their time stumbling among anchors and mooring lines. The trireme wasn't equipped for passengers. From this vantage point, Melaina watched the three banks of tireless oarsmen above while snacking on poppy-seed bread. The creak of ship's timbers seemed an ancient tongue. The men sweated streams from their brows and backs. Their eyes rolled askance while breaths came in hot gasps. All afternoon they toiled, stroke after stroke, dragging the oars through the sea.

That evening as they approached the harbor, distant shouts brought mother and daughter topside again. Melaina pointed into the dark toward a line of torches stretching away from shore.

"Diolkos," said her mother. She'd been at the Isthmus several times. "We've arrived."

"What are they doing?"

"It's a great commercial center. Ships from all over the Aegean come here, unload their cargo into cars to be pulled across the Isthmus along a stone-paved portage, the diolkos, to the waters of the Corinthian Gulf. There the cargo is reloaded into ships headed for Delphi, Patras, or towns as far away as Brentesion in Italy."

"What's that?" asked Melaina, pointing to another line of torches running parallel up the slope west of the diolkos.

"I've never seen it before. Must be the defensive wall the Spartans built. That's where we're headed, just beyond to the temple of Poseidon."

The ship glided through smooth water and into the cove, where other vessels crowded to the docks serving the diolkos. They slipped into a space left open for the trireme, then stilled and secured the oars. Melaina and Myrrhine were the first to leave the ship, escorted by Xanthippus, with Aeschylus and Kallias close behind. Sophocles trudged past and on up the slope by himself, a lonely looking soul with his arms pulled about his body.

On land, they were met by a group of men and welcomed by Kimon, Kallias' friend whom they'd met on the road back from Brauron. Melaina had seen Kimon at Phlya in Kleito's home. He was younger than Kallias and handsome as any man Melaina had ever seen, tall and large, thick curly hair falling to his shoulders. He gave Xanthippus a wide berth, but when he saw the two women, he roared with laughter, sending up great clouds of wine-smelling breath. He was so infatuated with Melaina that he kept pawing her.

Kallias pushed him away. "Control yourself, Kimon," he implored. "Be civilized!"

"But she's Kynegeiros' daughter! I remember him when I was a child. My poor dead father spoke well of him at Marathon. How can I not be in love with her?" Melaina's father, as well as the rest of the men she was with, had served under Miltiades, Kimon's father.

"Your affection is infested with Bacchus' spirit and will turn to regret tomorrow. Your problem is you drink frog-fashion, never eating anything. She's a priestess, not a flute girl."

Kimon looked greatly ashamed. "Acting a fool among sacred company, am I? You take them then, Kallias, and you also Aeschylus. I'll walk with someone who can make me behave myself." He spoke in great gusts of breath that filled the space around them with wine fog.

His pawing, the monstrous hot hands, gentle and kind on her arm, didn't offend Melaina, but she did resent Kallias assuming the role of her protector. What affection she couldn't deflect, her Uncle Aeschylus could save her from.

They walked the slope to the sacred glen, entered the temple of Poseidon through a line of stately pines, and passed statues of the Isthmian Games victors. The temple precinct was small and surrounded by stone, the northern side forming part of the now-infamous military wall, a great makeshift structure of sand, brick and timber, reinforced by strategically spaced towers. It swarmed with warriors. Poseidon's columned temple was no taller than the trees, and two Poseidons stood out front alongside a statue of the sea goddess Amphitrite, Poseidon's divine wife. The god's children were worked on the plinth, since they, too, were saviors of ships and men at sea. A rowdy horde of warriors packed a nearby theatre and an adjacent white-stoned stadium.

The men joined the feast, while the two women were taken inside the temple. Melaina and her mother stopped before a great marble basin resting on a ring and supported by four stone women, each standing on a lion's back. Female servants brought pitchers and tipped holy water for their hands into a silver bowl. Others filled the wine bowls and poured a fresh cup for each. A larder mistress brought a tray of honeyed loaves for their bedtime repast. Against a far wall, a hearth-fire burned, and Melaina and her mother sent a shower of wine over the flames, crumbled a loaf into the coals, drank deep, and spoke a prayer to the great bearded god in whose temple they would spend the night.

The priestesses and servants disappeared down an echoing hall to their quarters. Handmaids brought blankets and deep-piled rugs, and they went to bed wondering what morning would bring.

*

A commotion in the hall woke Melaina well before daybreak. Shouts of angry women's voices and the howl of a beast followed. Melaina heard her name spoken in desperation just before a great white wolf strode into the chamber, followed by a tall woman dressed in sacred raiment. The servants tried vainly to restrain her. The oil lamp in her hand cast a pale light and flickered nervously. The beast moved to the center of the room and stood at attention, surveying all within his realm.

"Where's the maid from Eleusis?" the woman asked, scanning the chamber. She was the tallest woman Melaina had ever seen, standing goddess-like among the servants.

Heart pounding, Melaina raised her head from the pillow. Her mother responded.

"Back off, woman! If you won't let us sleep, at least let us make ourselves decent before accosting us. And remove that demon! His eyes have stalked me since he entered."

The woman motioned the wolf back to the door. "Forgive me! I must know if the maid was at Brauron during the Persian siege. Please!"

"Leave her be," Melaina said to those trying to restrain the woman. "Let me learn her mission before she's banished." She turned to the woman. "Perhaps your rudeness is not without purpose. I was at Brauron."

"Ah! At last!" But inexplicably the woman turned her back and hid her face. "I'm terrified to speak with you." She fell at the foot of Melaina's bed, cried, prayed. "Oh divine Artemis, august goddess on Olympus, be gentle with me, that this tender maid's storehouse of memories might not hold my doom."

Melaina watched as her mother left her bed and went to the woman, shook her by the shoulders. "Stop this!" Myrrhine said. "You've frightened us all quite enough. State your business."

The woman suppressed her sobs. "I'm Keladeine, priestess of Artemis at Kenchreai nearby, but more importantly, sister of Kynthia, priestess of Artemis at Brauron."

Melaina felt a chill ripple through her and her grief reawaken. She knew she was about to cause Keladeine a great heartache. She slipped from her covers and, though still in her sleeping gown, took both Keladeine's cold hands in hers. "I saw the Persians strike flames to Artemis' temple at Brauron." Though a sizeable woman, her face was gorgeous, with large intelligent eyes that reflected the lamplight.

Keladeine spoke again. "I've heard nothing but rumors and wrung my hands with uncertainty. Withhold nothing. The kindest words be those of complete truth though they slay me in the hearing."

The woman's icy hands were the largest Melaina had ever held. "I can only offer a cruel recital indeed for the sister of my dear mistress." Melaina stopped to let her words soak in. She took Keladeine, a young woman barely more than her own age, into her arms, let her weep. She seemed a huge child.

Myrrhine turned to the servants. "Prepare a place here on the floor, and do something about the chill. These walls leach cold." She lowered her voice. "And be quiet about it. No sense waking the entire temple."

With that Melaina and her mother donned their house robes as befitted modesty, and the women serving them brought a plate of glowing coals from Hestia's hearth to break the room's chill. Myrrhine, Melaina and Keladeine gathered round the radiating heat, each sitting on a small pillow, as those in service hovered in darkness about them. The wolf quietly maintained his guard at the door.

Melaina told Keladeine of the events at Brauron that had sealed her sister's fate. She was gentle with the description of Kynthia's death, revealing nothing of the gore, so she might deny Keladeine the gruesome image, but was emphatic about the result. Kynthia had passed to the Underworld. Melaina omitted that the Persian was trying to get to her when Kynthia stepped between them. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Keladeine cried hard tears, and Melaina and her mother had to restrain her from lacerating her cheeks. Melaina told Keladeine of her own affection for Kynthia, the long hours they'd spent together beyond that required for her training at Brauron. Eventually, she came around to expressing her own interest in following Artemis. Melaina finished by telling Keladeine of her own plans to start a school for girls at Eleusis.

Keladeine recovered a little. Her eyes, set in wet cheeks, met hers for the first time. "You must come to Artemis' temple, my temple, just off the road between here and Kenchreai. You can't return to Eleusis without seeing it."

Myrrhine spoke, "Melaina won't have time. We leave after the celebration tomorrow."

"Then we must go now," said Keladeine. "We could be there and back by the time the men are up. We've an ancient wooden statue of Artemis. Some say it's the oldest in Hellas, that Manto, the daughter of the great seer Teiresias, carved it at the request of Apollo to honor his divine sister."

Melaina was struck with Keladeine, the wide-spaced eyes, her openness. Her chiton fell barely to her brown knees, and her shoulders were bare and golden from long hours in the sun. Though large, she was agile as a cat. Her hair glowed yellow, a striking contrast to her sun-darkened skin. She controlled the wolf standing watch at the door with a glance, the lift of a finger.

"Mother, I must go," cried Melaina. "We have no such temple at Eleusis. Give this one moment apart from you. I'll return promptly. Quick Hermes will see to it."

"No! For many reasons, no."

"Why do you imprison me so by your constant presence?" The question was direct, stinging. Melaina saw hurt in her mother's eyes and regretted it immensely. But this young woman, Keladeine, exuded such excitement. Melaina realized that her mother was concerned that the epilepsy might return. "I feel great, mother. Don't worry."

Melaina could tell that her cutting remark had hurt her mother immeasurably. Myrrhine didn't resist further, and Melaina left with Keladeine, but not without a growing guilt at how she'd won this moment away. Outside they climbed aboard a small, two-wheeled cart pulled by a single donkey. Keladeine spoke once to the wolf, "Lykos!" He jumped inside. Though Keladeine had two male slaves with her, the girls took seats in front, and Keladeine took the reins.

The pink sunrise made the road easy to follow, and they heard a chorus of roosters the entire route. Shortly, a dirt trail left the main road and ran up the forested hill away from shore. Melaina viewed Keladeine anew in the glow of morning light. Never had she seen such radiant beauty, a messenger of the gods she seemed.

At the top of the hill the trees parted, and they stopped before a modest temple. Keladeine left the cart and donkey with the servants. A single palm stood before the temple. She touched it as they passed. "I brought this tree from Delos. It's an offshoot of the palm marking the spot where Leto gave birth to Artemis and Apollo. It's but one of my treasures. The palm bears only female flowers, and, since it's the only palm in the area, forever virgin."

"You've been to Delos?"

"Once."

"Oh, Keladeine! What I wouldn't give to see the sacred isle."

A herd of deer grazed in a meadow nearby, and clouds of sparrows fussed among the trees. Keladeine swung aside the double doors and spoke in hushed tones. "This was modeled after the great temple of Artemis at Ephesus but doesn't approach its magnificence. The simplicity serves Artemis well."

"Kynthia used to tell me of Ephesus. I do so hope to get there some day," said Melaina.

"We have close connections with them, both being near commercial ports. Their temple is truly a marvel."

"You speak as if you've been there too."

"I have."

"In Ionia? Is there any place you haven't been? I'd give my life to see Ephesus."

"Oh, Melaina, you do love Artemis, don't you?"

"Kynthia was very persuasive."

"Then I've found a sister in you!" And then she started to cry. "I've known in my heart Kynthia had been taken from me but wouldn't admit it. Artemis has sent you with the crushing news to cushion my grief."

"Kynthia said that in Ionia, Artemis is worshiped as the great mother goddess."

"Even Zeus has no temple to compare with hers at Ephesus."

Keladeine led Melaina through the columns and into a darkened hall, stopping before a door to a small chamber. Melaina peered inside and saw children sleeping in rows upon blankets laid directly on the dirt floor. One little boy cried in his sleep.

"War orphans mostly," said Keladeine. "Some from unwed mothers. We take those who'd be exposed on Kithaeron."

"How do you care for them?"

"They'll gradually be absorbed into the surrounding communities. Merchants who come to cross the Isthmus at the diolkos will adopt some. We also take in orphaned animals, birds, deer, bear cubs. One young mountain lion."

"Then it's not just a temple of worship. It's a refuge."

"All that are lost come here."

Melaina thought if she became an outcast because of her epilepsy, she might end up here. Artemis' temple at Brauron had been dedicated to educating girls in their rite of passage from girlhood to womanhood. But here the unfortunate, the vulnerable sought refuge. If she could combine the two at Eleusis, provide not only for girls' training but also a shelter for the abandoned, her life would have even more purpose than she'd imagined. Perhaps that was why Artemis had saved her from the Persian assassin. Melaina again felt the guilt of not telling Keladeine the full story. Would Keladeine hate her if she knew the complete truth?

Keladeine led Melaina into a large chamber with a vaulted ceiling, at the far end of which stood an adytum and a dimly lit altar. A small statue of no greater height than Melaina herself appeared faint in the light of oil lamps. A circular depression before the altar contained ashes mixed with charred animal bones. Beside it stood a slaughter stone, discolored by black blood.

"I'll tend the children," said Keladeine, leaving Melaina alone.

Melaina allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The age of the statue was evident in the wood grain revealed through the paled paint. The goddess was clad in a short sleeveless chiton that left her right breast bare and hardly reached her knees. It was bound at the waist by a scarf drawn across and tied. She wore buskins laced halfway to the knees and was in half stride. She held a torch in her left hand and in her right the tiny hooves of a fawn that had just sprung up to greet her. Her strung bow was strapped to her back along with a shut quiver. Her maidenly character showed in her clear bright face and dimpled chin. Her hair was pulled back severely and secured in a long plait. Her gaze was fixed upon the distance. Melaina imagined Artemis returning home through the woods in the early evening after a day of hunting, her way lit by the torch.

Melaina's eyes feasted on the icon. She'd often heard of Artemis the huntress, and ironically, protectress of animals, but she'd never felt the liberty inherent in this one image. She'd sensed Keladeine's self-determination, but the image of the goddess, the perfect unfettered being, struck her soul on fire. Never had she truly known what the word "freedom" meant. No wonder men willingly gave their lives for it. This statue of the maiden goddess, the embodiment of the woodland secluded life, made Melaina want to run off into the woods herself, walk alone through meadows, wade knee-deep streams, and sleep staring up at the stars.

Melaina realized she was committing a sacrilege. She remembered Palaemon's warning. She'd been allowed to see Artemis' freedom and now envisioned it for herself. A mortal could never, should never, strive for that reserved for the gods. To do so was insufferable arrogance. She took a deep breath, straightened her back proudly before Artemis, and raised her arms.

"O divine Artemis! Modest maid of thick-shaded forests, who loves Earth's wild beasts and brings quick death by the bow, I pray your indulgence in this personal matter. Not long ago, I came to you seeking to keep my virginity, not yet realizing the full bounty that worship of you brings. Keladeine, your temple priestess, and your likeness here before the altar, have shown me more than a state of existence, a path more precious than life itself. Give me that measure of freedom befitting a temperate mortal maiden and strike from my heart the infectious arrogance corrupting my thoughts. Fair-faced Bringer of Light, give me this life, and I'll always burn fat thighs pieces upon your sacrificial fires."

As she finished, Melaina realized she must make everything right with Keladeine. If she didn't tell her the full truth of how Kynthia died, it would always come between them. She found Keladeine among the children suckling a baby at a goatskin bladder.

"I must return," Melaina told her. "I've been gone too long."

Shortly they were back in the donkey-drawn cart on the road to the temple of Poseidon. Melaina became quiet. She felt that her friendship with Keladeine was about to end. She'd known her such a short time, but already loved her as the sister she'd never had.

"I've something to tell you, Keladeine." Melaina held back tears. "When Kynthia fell to the Persian assassin, she wasn't his target. He'd come for me. Kynthia stepped between us, offering herself up for sacrifice without hope, so I might live. But for me, Kynthia would be here with you today, and I would be in my rightful place in the Undergloom. I'm terribly sorry." There, she'd said it and would now have to suffer the consequences. She could hear Keladeine also crying and wondered when her new grief would turn to anger.

Instead Keladeine said, "Your every statement is a gift. My one unspoken doubt in Artemis was that Kynthia's life had been taken for nothing. I wondered how the goddess could let that happen. But you come forth humbly with word that Artemis is not arbitrary, that she in her infinite wisdom used Kynthia as your springboard to womanhood. Though you may not realize it, this demonstrates without doubt that the threads of your life are entwined with those of the gods. My life is here at my small temple on the Isthmus, but yours is mingled with the divine. I envy you, but still must pass along a warning. Mortals are never more than dust caught up in the whirlwind of the gods. Those closest them inherit nothing but grief."

The sun was well above the horizon when the cart pulled up in front of the temple of Poseidon. Melaina saw her mother standing in the doorway and quickly said goodbye to Keladeine. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Only the will of the gods can keep us apart."

"Have you been initiated into the Mysteries?"

"No."

"Oh, Keladeine, you must be initiated. We must be together in the Elysian Fields."

Keladeine shook the reins against the donkey's back, and the cart moved off down the dirt road. When Melaina reached the temple of Poseidon, her mother was on her at once, grabbing her by the hand and holding it until Melaina's fingers ached.

"Please don't leave like that again," Myrrhine said. Melaina saw her mother's quiet desperation.

Looking toward shore, Melaina saw a crowd of men: generals, warriors and priests. She and her mother watched as the men led out nine sacrificial bulls, an offering to the blue-maned god who made the islands tremble. Taking the sweet entrails to eat themselves, the priests stacked high the flaming altar with fat-wrapped thighbones for the god, while those around them skewered red beef and held it scorching in the flames.

*

All morning and into the afternoon spectators assembled: warriors, merchants, refugees poured in from the north, and the curious from nearby Corinth. Festive shouts erupted when Themistocles was recognized, and again when a captured Phoenician warship powered into port for dedication to Poseidon.

Melaina heard a tumult from the assembly of generals. Word came that the voting had not gone well. The civic award for valor had gone to Aegina, Athens being narrowly defeated due to Spartan jealousy. The generals could give no individual award because every commander had voted for himself. A many-sided tie resulted, although each had given second place to Themistocles, who bellowed insults and accusations of cowardice. The assembly broke up, but groups of men lingered about, shouting at each other and bickering about bravery.

Melaina saw scuffling, a fist fight, and wished she'd been wrong, hoped her uncle wouldn't remember her callous comment about awards ceremonies. She realized that the men were still caught up in war's afterglow. The forces of anarchy still controlled them. War had created internal chaos, and the coming celebration must restore each person's innate accord. They'd sing and dance to lofty-spirited, harmonious Apollo, god of light and order. Women would join in to help reweave the fabric of civilized life.

When the ruckus subsided, the men came to Poseidon's temple: magistrates, ambassadors, and purple-robed priests. A murmur spread through the crowd as it parted. Shouts and hurrahs followed, as a man of renown stepped forward. It was Pindar, poet from much-hated Thebes. Pindar had expressed no allegiance to his native city since it had gone over to Persia and had sat out the sea battle on Aegina.

Melaina and her mother ran to get close enough to hear the famous poet. Beside him stood his own lyre player, and Pindar let the instrument start first and lead him into song once he felt the beat. Pindar's light, speedy rhythms were known to be unrivaled. At first Melaina couldn't catch his words, but then held her breath as they flowed to her. They were severe, beautiful, and seemed to her that they came from the distant past, as if Pindar had just stepped out of Homer:

... _therefore, I also, though stricken sorely at heart,  
am bidden to invoke the golden Muse. Now  
that we are set free from mighty woes, let us not  
fall into brooding over our sorrows. If we cease  
to dwell on unavailing ills, we shall be delighted  
with some strain of sweetness, even after toil;  
but, for me, the passing away of terror hath caused  
stern care to cease; yet is it better to look  
at that which lieth before one's foot, for man  
is entangled in a treacherous time that maketh  
crooked the path of life. Even this may be healed  
for mortals, if only they have freedom._

Melaina recognized his rhythm as Dorian, the tone epic, though less adorned than Homer, strong and grave, grand. She was struck by the personal content of his ode, and that it had obviously been written since the battle of Salamis. She counted herself blessed to be in his presence, and mentally shuffled the words of her own troublesome lyrics with his insights. She was sorry to see him step back into the crowd.

The men's and women's choruses assembled. What a glorious sight: men and women all in congregation, voices intertwined, peaceful, and standing in camaraderie. Melaina stood with other girls her age, listening to the mature voices lofting from the temple out over the bay.

She heard a shrill note from their own aulos player and ran with the rest of the girls to start the procession. Melaina's chorus was composed of two groups of nine, one representing the Muses, the other divine Artemis. Melaina took the lead as Artemis' proxy: tall, stately. She marched to the aulete's festive beat. The girls entered Poseidon's outdoor altar on a promontory before the beach. They sang a hymn to the gods, their voices undulating to the aulete's thin tune, inviting the all-powerful to bridge the gulf separating mortals and immortals and join the festivities.

The boys' chorus came alongside the girls', and Melaina caught sight of Sophocles. His eyes were no longer red, and he looked as though the festivities had lightened his heart. All stood on a white stone floor among trellises of grapevines, plump, purple fruit in bunches glistening in sunlight. The most-cherished girls danced in soft-linen gowns and garlands. They touched wrists, twirled, while handsome young men with a sheen of olive oil and dressed in well-knit chitons, pounded a solid rhythm. The beat quickened, the pat of fast feet reaching a frenzy as the girls whirled and circled with ease, the way a weaver at her wheel will give it a spin between fingertips, then let it run. In lines first, then ranks, the boys and girls moved on one another, interlacing ranks to weave feminine and masculine motifs of a single fabric. Magical dancing, manic, the aulos piping shrill accompaniment.

The crowd stood quietly, ready for the solo dancing.

Melaina tried not to feel the eyes on her as she stepped forward, spun, felt the hair loft from her shoulders, her breasts bob. She felt the soft beat of her lightning feet tingle her toes. When her frantic pace could quicken no further, Sophocles charged on stage. He startled her by flinging aside his chiton. Naked he was, anointed with oil, as he struck a pose beside twirling Melaina. With lyre in hand, he harped sweetly, stroking with a plectrum, stepped high and gracefully around her, magnificent, as if the god of order and light himself had entered, sublime Apollo. Many poses he committed, this way and that, enacting divine order and expressing a stately profile of perfection. Around him, Melaina twisted, turned, each revolution gravitating closer to twine round him.

Freedom-coveting Melaina felt a great stirring. For Artemis' sake, she'd buried, she thought forever, all thoughts of male attraction. Whether it was sublime love or low-based lust bleeding into her now, she felt was quite easily told. Sophocles' small, unfettered penis and plump, tightly grouped testicles, glistening fruit, was an image virginity-loving Melaina could never purge.

"Aphrodite," she whispered, "you've come for me again?"

*

That evening they feasted outdoors, the sacrifice attended by both men and women. Melaina and her mother stayed out of sight, the daughter afraid she'd reveal her favor toward Sophocles, or at last suffer her uncle's wrath over her misspoken words about awards. But nothing was said of it, and Aeschylus kept his distance, directing his attention to young Sophocles. Slaves swept the floor, washed cups, and garlanded each in attendance. One brought round a perfume dish of holy frankincense.

Melaina watched the two of them from a distance: Aeschylus at his meal, Sophocles by the fire pouring a wine libation. Aeschylus asked, "Do you wish me to drink with pleasure?" And when Sophocles answered, "Of course," Aeschylus responded, "Then hand the cup and don't rush away." Sophocles blushed, and Aeschylus said to a man next to him, "His scarlet cheeks shine with love's light." He asked Sophocles if he was cleaning a scrap from the cup with his little finger. "Yes," said Sophocles. Aeschylus then said, "Blow it away, for I shouldn't want your finger wet." As Sophocles brought his face to the cup, Aeschylus drew it near his own lips so their heads might touch, and kissed him in the corner of the mouth. The men erupted with laughter and shouting, celebrating Aeschylus' clever strategy.

Melaina had watched the action unfold, anticipating the outcome but was shocked at the sexual affection shown her young friend. She knew the older men lusted after the younger ones and never thought much of it. But this was Sophocles. Shortly the two of them retired, Sophocles tucked neatly under the arm of Aeschylus, seemingly delighted at being fondled. Melaina felt her cheeks flush again. She experienced a new feeling, hatred for her uncle.

Sophocles can never have me, she thought, for I'm committed to Artemis, but I'll make him wish he could.

*

As they poured the final libations to the gods, Themistocles stepped before the throng and requested quiet. Renewed weight rested upon his broad shoulders. His voice was weakened and weary.

"Scouts have just returned from Boeotia with news of Xerxes. He's taken most of his troops and retreated to Persia, as we expected."

Shouts and cheers erupted.

Themistocles raised his hand. "But he's left his cousin Mardonius with half a million infantrymen to winter in Thessaly. They'll renew their assault in the spring."

Silence fell over the crowd.

Oh no, not Mardonius, thought Melaina. The general grandfather fears most.

CHAPTER 16: Halcyon Days at Eleusis

As Melaina stepped off the boat at Eleusis, she saw the silhouetted shape of her grandfather disappear over the hilltop on his way back to the temple like an old bear returning to his lair, his dark robe pulled tight about him. I must confront him soon, she thought. I've fulfilled my role as priestess. Do I have the courage to ask for my freedom?

Melaina's excitement that first day home was fueled by the voices of her friends shouting just to hear the old stone halls echo. Melaina found her chamber unmolested, but not quite as she remembered. A quick check of her dowry chest revealed nothing missing, although it did seem disturbed. She became lost again in luxurious ancient fabrics, gold-threaded robes, coins locked away in secret. One mantle was her favorite. It had a wide trim interlaced with woven gold and was made to be worn about the back with ends pulled over one arm and thrown over the shoulder.

The Hierophant gathered all the officials of the Mysteries in the Telesterion, the ancient many-columned auditorium where the initiates congregated during the yearly ceremony, including Melaina and her mother. Melaina had never attended an assembly but was well known to all, related to many, and now the subject of whispers and finger pointing. The Hierophantides, the Hierophant's assistants, were Eumolpids, Myrrhine's distant cousins and also the mothers of Agido and Anaktoria. The mothers avoided Melaina and Myrrhine, still upset over Melaina dragging their daughters out in public. The All-Holy Ones were virgin priestesses also known as the "bees." They avoided contact with men and lived secluded lives outside the sanctuary. Melaina used to visit them with her mother from time to time. Melaina loved their stories and ancient ways. The Herald of the Mysteries was from the family of Kerykes, Kallias' family, and a descendant of Hermes the divine herald. He spent most of his time in Athens but still kept a home in Eleusis. The lesser officials maintained the temple: the Phaethyntes cleaned statues; the Neokoros cleaned and decorated the sanctuary; and the Hydranos were two priests in charge of the holy water used for purification during the Mysteries.

All were present at the assembly, having been called to the Telesterion by the Hierophant. They sat on the steps inside the columned chamber where the initiates sat during the Mysteries. The Hierophant stood before them, though leaning on his staff and in obvious pain. Melaina wondered if he was ill. He didn't hold them long, but spoke of the religious rites to the Mother and Maid, the practices for choral groups, and said a few words about the remaining construction work on the sanctuary. He also talked about the destruction of crops around Eleusis and urged food rationing. He reminded them to stay close within city walls with the Persian menace still lurking to the north.

The Hierophant then paused in his instructions and looked at Melaina. He seemed to be weighing some worrisome question. Here it comes, she thought, my elevation to priestess of Kore. Her breathing stopped. This could be the end of her quest for freedom. But he looked away and dismissed the group back to their homes. Her sigh of relief echoed off the forest of columns. Melaina then knew she needed to have it out with her grandfather. She didn't know why he hadn't made the announcement, but Melaina did know that if she didn't do something quick, the act was inevitable and possibly irrevocable.

Everyone who'd evacuated had returned, although they realized that the Persians would renew their threat next spring. The noise created by all these people and their families brought Eleusis back to life. Melaina spent her time in the weaving room close to the hearthstone, where a great fire blazed, scenting the air with cedar. She loved the weavers' song, the highs and lows of their sweet voices as the shuttles slipped to and fro. Melaina stood before a tall vertical loom where warp threads hung from a horizontal beam. Her hands were lightning with a shuttle. The woman next to her packed the woof with a wooden rod.

The room buzzed with the gossip of a dozen women, some stretching wool and combing it, others dying the tow-yarn. One spun it about a distaff, drawing the dampened thread from the spinning wheel, shaping it between her fingers and cutting it with her teeth when the trundle was full. She dropped the soft fleece into a wicker basket.

The women were working on Melaina's marriage wardrobe, a disconcerting prospect for a young woman not wanting marriage. She'd been laboring over the wardrobe the last two years and had carpets, wall coverings, and embroideries for tabletops. Melaina envisioned herself as one of the Fates, weaving an unwanted life. She repeated poetry to buoy her courage and focused on building the case she'd present to the Hierophant.

Finally, Melaina could stand it no longer. She passed the shuttle off to one of the slave girls and went next door where women prepared the newly sheared wool. They washed it in hot root-of-soapwart water, while others prepared it for dyeing by soaking it in wine, olive oil, and pig's fat. Melaina tried to busy herself carding the combed wool, but found she had no interest in this either. The slave girls laughed at her absentmindedness.

It was fate that bothered her. Was it possible to determine the future? Do the gods really fix our fate? she wondered. Or are women really the pawns of men? And what about this "second fate" business her grandfather had mentioned?

Finally, she went to see her mother.

Myrrhine was before the ovens. Great steam clouds of yeast and honey from the glowing ovens filled the room as she and a slave girl retrieved groat loaves made of rice-wheat and then pushed bulging pans of dough, soft and white as baby bottoms, into the inferno.

"Please. Come with me to see the Hierophant," Melaina said. "I must know if I'll be allowed to follow Artemis."

"So it's come down to it now, has it." Myrrhine looked very dissatisfied. "I petitioned your grandfather to hold off the announcement of you officially becoming a priestess. I didn't tell him the real reason, only that I wanted you fully recovered from your ordeal at Brauron before we added this new pressure to your duties. Can't say he was pleased."

"But mother, if I don't tell him now, he'll make the decision public without weighing my objection."

Her mother took Melaina out of the others' hearing. "Okay. I'll go with you. But don't get your hopes up. He's been looking forward to you becoming a priestess for many years. Oh," she stopped and became stern again. "The epilepsy, don't mention it."

"Why?"

"You're cured."

"Grandfather should know I had it. I thought I might use it as an argument in my favor."

Her mother took Melaina's hands in both hers. "No, Melaina. No one should know you ever had it."

"But why?"

"The stigma. Some would view you as polluted even if cured. They could stop you from becoming a priestess or running a school for girls."

Melaina became irritated. "But mother, you don't understand. It isn't all bad. If you only knew what I felt and saw just before I fell. Something miraculous happened. Grandfather might value it."

"What? Tell me about it."

Melaina fell silent. Words didn't exist to describe it. "It is a union. I'm as one with the gods."

"To view yourself as a goddess is the great arrogance."

"I don't mean that. But I do understand what it's like to be a goddess, only as can one who has been with them."

"You've been with the gods?"

"On the promontory overlooking the sea battle. Just before I fell, I saw Hermes guiding the souls of the dead."

"Tell no one!"

"Why?"

"Men are not tolerant of aberrations in women. They want us predictable and trustworthy."

"But grandfather knows how the gods cherish me."

"This is a step beyond what even he will understand. Trust me in this."

"Okay! If I say nothing of my vision or the epilepsy, you'll help?"

"I'll go with you. Nothing more." Myrrhine hesitated. "I've noticed you've stopped averting your eyes or lowering your head, as is customary when women address men. It's particularly important with your grandfather. He is the Hierophant."

Melaina flushed and wild anger welled up inside her. She said nothing and forced back words of defiance.

"And be gentle with him," her mother added, "I've become concerned with his health lately."

They left to find him, Melaina mumbling under her breath and now uneasy about her mother's presence. Perhaps I should have gone alone after all, she thought.

The Hierophant was in his library humped over a scroll and grumbling to himself about "painful old age." He rose from his table bowed over his staff, and crept about anxiously. Melaina noticed that his limbs trembled, but apparently not from weakness. He looked strong enough. From time to time he grunted as though he'd suffered a blow. He drew his tunic about him as if to ward off a chill.

Melaina caught herself staring at his eyes, trying to read his mood. She remembered her mother's caution and forced her eyes to the floor.

When he had taken a seat again, he spoke. "What grave task has brought you before me, child? You look as if you've committed a crime."

Melaina knelt before him, took his knees in her arms and kissed his hands. "I've come as would a slave to ask for the freedom to determine my own destiny," she said, bracing herself for the blow to fall.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his brows jerk up toward her mother.

"Grandfather... To some being a priestess would be all life could offer, but the Muses have given me song that I might write poetry, and a soft heart for babies and little girls that I might see to their entry into the world and teach them to be good wives and mothers. I wish to remain virgin and follow Artemis."

He placed both hands on her head, his cold fingers touching her ears. "Would you agree you've shown considerable talent as priestess?"

Melaina tried to resist the impulse, but her head leaned back and her eyes found his. She saw the worry there, and the suffering. "Yes, grandfather, more than I would like to admit." She looked down again.

He nodded and looked away. "You were voted on and passed by the Sacred Officials some months ago." He paused. "And you realize how much we need a male child to carry on in my footsteps as Hierophant?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly and sank back from him, eyes still lowered. "And the need for a priestess of Demeter to follow my mother," she said reluctantly.

"The line of Hierophants from the Eumolpids extends back a thousand years. One of your cousins may bear a son, and the Kerkyes are anxious to have a hierophant named from their clan, but you're the only one in the direct line of descent."

"I know, grandfather. Yet it's what's in my heart. What of my second fate?"

He stayed silent, and, unable to resist, she raised her eyes again, let them roam his wrinkled face. His mass of hair had lost its luster. His beard was streaked with gray. "If it were anyone else," he said, "I'd refuse flatly, but the gods have interfered in your life. Before birth, we're all allowed to select the life we'll lead and its inherent end. But when Kynthia died in your place at Brauron, you were, as you say, allotted a second fate. What the Fates have woven, you must live through to the end. Nothing I say can affect it. The spindle of our lives ever turns on the knees of Necessity with Atropos weaving the web of irreversible destiny."

"And... I can remain virgin?"

"I admit that I've had my doubts about demanding you follow in your mother's footsteps. First, Artemis saves your life, and now you come to me wanting to follow her."

"Oh, no. I'd already decided to follower her."

"Then that act may have predisposed Artemis to you and saved your life."

"So... I can remain virgin?"

"I mean," he said, touching a finger to the tip of her nose, "I'm not the one to ask. I'm not even sure the gods have settled the matter, because Kynthia's sacrifice was not given willingly. She died struggling. The gods are warring over you."

"But, grandfather, what am I to do?" she asked, catching sight of her mother walking up behind him.

"I'll say nothing more one way or the other. Your fate will show itself soon enough." He pulled her toward him and kissed her on the forehead, something he hadn't done in a long time. "Now leave an old man to his misery."

But she couldn't. She had another request plaguing her. She tried to ignore her mother's eyes as they also looked down from behind him. Melaina looked at the floor as she spoke.

"Grandfather, could you build a temple for Artemis here at Eleusis? I've long thought it strange that we have none. We've neglected the virgin goddess, and she'd greatly appreciate it. No need for plans. I've a vision of how it's to be."

The Hierophant leaned back and laughed heartily. "You've long thought? What a treasure you are, my little one! Nothing in your sweet life has been long. And that you've had a vision, I don't doubt at all. Perhaps you're right. Is that why Artemis has you tormenting me so?"

*

As the days passed, the moon waned and renewed itself, the Pleiads set, and the weather turned. A cold, blustery wind blew from the north. But gradually the storms lifted, and warm days of sunshine returned, if only for a while. The rains had turned the fields and hillsides green.

Even as a child, Melaina's favorite place to be alone was in the courtyard beneath the pomegranate tree. She frequently fell asleep there, and her mother would find her and carry her indoors. Next to the pomegranate tree, Melaina's favorite haunt was the hill overlooking Eleusis and the bay. There she'd go with or without her companions and watch the activity of the entire area. Ships brought evacuated goods back into Eleusis, and to the northeast, teams of great oxen pulled carts to and from the verdant valley of the nearby Thriasian Plain, clouds of dust rising from the loose soil. Triptolemus, prince of Eleusis and the first to sow grain, had planted his field there centuries ago. Demeter had given him three laws: honor parents, harm no animal, and glorify the gods with earth's first fruits.

Eleusis, as the ancient abode of Demeter, received annual first fruits from all states, not just nearby farms, as it had for the last three hundred years, ever since a festival and sacrifice to Demeter had ended a great famine. The festival was repeated each year as the plowing and sowing began. Looking over the land, Melaina heard the ring of hammer and anvil as Palaemon forged plows for tilling. She knew how he enjoyed this time of year because of his love for green fields. The planting of wheat, barley, peas, beans and lentils had already begun.

South of Mt. Olympus, a half million Persians occupied Thessaly under Mardonius, the general Melaina's grandfather deathly feared. Yet, Eleusis developed a decidedly festive atmosphere. The grain fields left unburned by the Persians had been rapidly harvested and threshed. Figs, almonds, and chickpeas, picked before the invasion, had been pulled from storage and taken to Salamis. But the pears had rotted on the trees, and the grapes rapidly turned brown and wrinkled on the vines, although laborers had worked hard to salvage them.

To this perch on top of the Eleusinian world, Melaina came one afternoon, and this time brought her little troop: stately Anaktoria and smiling Agido, after some fast talking with their mothers; but also quiet Euphemia and ever-yapping Dorothea, sisters whose mother had practically thrown the girls at Melaina to be rid of them for the afternoon. Melaina was thrilled to have four in her group, and took along her lyre to sing from Sappho and recite her own poetry when she could squeeze it in, entwining it with soft rhythms and sweet melodies.

This had always been Melaina's way. As a child she took to wearing a stephane about her hair, sometimes of myrtle, glimmering olive at others. And always she was in the presence of children, telling a story, guiding them through a dance. Sometimes she even slumbered herself with the children asleep in her arms.

On this day, after having sung a few verses of her own poetry, Melaina was in the midst of questioning its rhythmic quality when her Uncle Aeschylus appeared, coming up the hill. She'd been trying to correct her attitude toward him since witnessing his affection for Sophocles, and once again realized that she was quite fond of him. Surely his appearance is a favorable sign, she thought. I can ask if he'll help improve my verse.

Aeschylus had taken to wearing the sparkling Persian sword he'd captured during the sea battle and looked very smart in it. But he pulled Melaina aside before she could speak and spoke quite sternly to her. "If you're going to do this, do it indoors, where you can't be seen. Don't make a spectacle of yourself."

Melaina took her reprimand gracefully but was secretly devastated. He acted as if they were at their toilet. She saw that he'd frightened the girls. But she was still determined to ask his help. She'd been concentrating on her eyes' arrogance and consciously lowered them. Were his knees far enough? Perhaps the feet?

He stood impatiently.

"I've decided to follow Artemis, become a poetess, and run a school for girls, in the tradition of Sappho. But I'll need training. I know you're the greatest poet in all the world and wonder if you'd mind helping me. I'm so clumsy at rhythm."

"Teach a girl?" He looked incredulous, walked away from her, then turned back. "Years ago, when I was but a boy of the fields caring for a vineyard, I fell asleep in the warm afternoon sun, and Dionysus came to me in a dream. He told me to write tragedies. I didn't have a particular inclination for the craft but didn't want to disobey a god, so I tried, and found that I was good at it. I suggest you spend less time indulging in your own desires and more searching for the will of the gods."

"I've been told I have the Muses' gift. If you'd just..." She held up a small scroll.

Her uncle had appeared disinterested until he saw the papyrus. Melaina knew his curiosity had been piqued. He held the unrolled sheet out from him, as the eyes require of those his age.

Melaina felt vulnerable. Her uncle was used to arguing the finer points of line construction with the best in Greece. How could she possibly measure up? He stared for a long while, eyes darting back and forth beneath his massive brows. Her fractured confidence faded further. Finally, he spoke with a thin voice, barely a murmur.

"I can't imagine the gods wasting such a gift on a girl."

"You like it?"

"The cohesion and smoothness is shocking for one so young. Nothing wrong with your meter. It's simply original. Though you could benefit from a little... Great Zeus! What metaphors."

"Then you'll teach me?"

"Find a poetess," he said, flinging back the roll. "Korinna perhaps. She defeated Pindar five times. Myrtis may be too old, though she taught Pindar and Korinna. Either would suffice."

Melaina stooped to pick up the scroll, indignant. "Those poets were both from hated Thebes." How could he suggest such a thing? she wondered. "Korinna is so... so parochial," she said, shocked at the outrage in her own voice, but her mouth kept going. "Her language and subject matter are inferior."

"You can't expect to be taught as a man. Understand your station."

"But I'm your brother's daughter. You won't help me?" She felt humiliated in front of her students.

"You seem more suited to Sparta where worshipping Artemis is required of girls, and they're educated the same as boys."

"But the Muses!" Anger flashed in her eyes as she stared him down.

He walked off, throwing a last remark over his shoulder. "When hastening to your own undoing, the gods take part with you."

She was confused, felt cheated, abused. She stamped her foot, and her cheeks again flushed, whether from rage or embarrassment at her own presumptuousness, she didn't know. She scanned her four bug-eyed students. Melaina had never been dismissed like this. She fought the urge to call him back.

*

Palaemon was just returning from the smelter, shuffling into his shop as Melaina entered. She stood watching as he and his two servants, Akmon and Damnameneus, stacked heavy ingots of bronze, iron, and lead in the storeroom. Smaller ones, of silver and gold, he stored in the chest within his living quarters. Melaina cornered him there.

"The brooch you gave me for use against arrogance is troubling," she said. She heard his two giant workmen singing wordless hymns, melodies strangely warbled as if by ancient Orpheus.

The smith laughed melodiously while tightening the strap securing his leather apron. "As it should be."

"Is not the love of freedom itself a great arrogance?"

"So some would say."

"Then is not all Hellas at risk?"

"Only the desire to be free of the gods' will is forbidden. To be free of another mortal's suppression, I think not. Thinking yourself better than your fellow mortals is an arrogance that corrects itself."

"I've noticed it infecting the great general Themistocles."

"Ah, it's easiest to detect in others, but obscure within."

"What about women?"

"I'm but a crippled smith, the legs of my arrogance broken in the womb. I'm not a philosopher and ill-suited for all these questions. I'm afraid you've outgrown me."

Melaina took a deep breath, looked down at her hands and so saw his withered legs. Never had she felt so close to him. They both had their defects. Few others would ever understand. "The gods marked me early also," she said, "but it didn't stifle my arrogance." She thought about what she was going to tell him, her mother's caution. But she'd never believed in Kleito's cure anyway. "I'm epileptic."

Palaemon stopped fidgeting with his metals. "How could this be, child? Are you sure?"

"Mother says I've had seizures since father died. They've always been during sleep, but recently they've waylaid me no matter the circumstance."

"The purest metal comes from the hottest fire."

Melaina thought this comment curious. "I experience a great euphoria with it, but can tell it's wearing on me. No one else at Eleusis knows this but my mother."

"Your secret is safe. I..." Something seemed to gripped him. He came toward her, staggered, seemed to stumble, or was it just his awkwardness? She was within his arms, and at first she thought he'd grabbed her while falling, then realized he was hugging her. He'd never touched her before. What a great comfort she felt in those sooty arms, prickly wool like rose thorns on his massive chest. She wondered if this was a father's love.

After they finished talking, Melaina stayed awhile, and he joined his two slaves at the bellows. Gigantic men they were, groaning, hovering over the crippled blacksmith and around a molten mass. She heard the din of anvils, and loved it, the great blast of the bellows. The men hefted heavy hammers far above their heads and smote rhythmic blows on glowing iron. The furnace fire in Palaemon's eyes gleamed like jewels.

*

Many days later, Melaina was in the temple with several others, overseeing the cleaning of the columns, when she overheard a loud conversation from the courtyard. Thinking she recognized the voices, she walked to the entrance and saw young Sophocles arguing with her Uncle Aeschylus. Although it wasn't a heated argument, she saw belligerence chiseled into Sophocles' face, and it wasn't over the finer points of poetry, as one might expect from a student and teacher. It was about politics, Sophocles taking the side of the radical democrats and her uncle that of the aristocratic conservatives.

Ever since she'd seen the two men locked in embrace at the Isthmus, Melaina had been stalking Sophocles. Now she walked straight to her chamber to carry forth her scheme.

First, she had to correct all her imagined physical flaws. She supposed she was too tall, and put on a thin slipper, planning to cock her head to one side while in conversation to decrease her altitude. I have no hips, she criticized, and warned herself to wear garments beneath her skirt. Her blond eyebrows were too light, and painted them with lamp-black, then, thinking they were too dark, plastered them over with white lead. She thought her teeth were pretty and wished to remember to laugh, but realized she wasn't much disposed toward mirth.

She searched through her wardrobe and selected a finely woven chiton buttoned along the top of the arm to form sleeves, leaving a little flesh showing, each button radiating rippling pleats. It had green stars within red circles, and a green edge at the neck with a wandering red motif. She adorned her left arm with a green spiral bracelet, wore a green necklace and earrings of red rosettes.

She gathered the front of her skirt in a vertical column to pull it in and up at the ankles. She didn't want to look like a country wench, though she wouldn't mind the sensuousness of a courtesan. As she fretted in the mirror, she felt dressed as one of those tuneful decoy-birds of the coin, Aphrodite's trained strumpets.

She fretted with her hair and finally contented herself with four tightly curled locks falling over each breast, and she adorned her forehead with a congregation of curls. Sixteen wavy locks fell at the back of her neck. She remembered a line from Sappho, something about blondes with torch-yellow hair needing fresh garlands and a fashionable headband, so she donned a green and bronze diadem with a red lotus and palmette.

She selected a fine Egyptian perfume, stolen from her mother's gold-inlaid box, with which she anointed her feet and legs. Her cheeks and nipples she touched with palm oil, arms with bergamot-mint, knee and neck with tufted thyme. She put a little marjoram between her breasts, where the heart is. For breath, she chewed two wine-flavored myrtle berries.

While perfuming, she kept repeating, "O Artemis, please forgive me," and "Aphrodite, stay your ground."

Wishing for something to do with her hands, she grabbed a basket, stuffed it with green cheese, slice of tripe, dried figs, and stole a honey-cake on the way out.

Down the alley, she twice caught sight of Kallias, and guilt caused her to wonder if he tracked her. Sophocles, she found outside the walls, a waxed writing tablet and stylus hanging from his belt. She motioned him to follow and headed for the sacred myrtle grove, realm of Aphrodite, where initiates wandered during the Mysteries.

As she'd earlier spun the thread, woven the intricate fabric at the loom, so now she twisted her plot among the bushes. Melaina laid Sophocles back beneath the tender stalks of myrtle onto beds of basil. Radiant and magnificent, Melaina's white skin shone, yet a blush moderated its color. Her long tresses tossed about in the humming breeze. The two youngsters nibbled the repast as Melaina noticed her own appetite of the flesh awaken. But Sophocles was still disturbed, his long face casting a shadow she'd have to dispel. She questioned him concerning it.

"A lingering effect of battle," he said, then told of being at sea but out of the action until going ashore on the island of Psyttaleia. "There we ringed the Persians round with warriors, and from our high vantage point, hurled stones, shot arrows, and battered them with clubs until all were dead. I sent a begging man to his grave." His talk brought more sadness. "I was caught up in Ares' murdering madness, but after committing the crime, my conscience wouldn't have it. The man's pleading face still haunts me. I can't believe I committed murder."

Such a frail man, she thought, so deliciously vulnerable.

"But that isn't the worst of it. After committing the murder, a Persian escaped our trap and came for me. I ran like a coward. And then later, I found out that two of my uncles died in the sea battle." The telling brought tears to his eyes. "Better to have never been born," he said.

Melaina held him, cradled his head in her lap and stroked away the pain. She wished to divert him from this worrisome discourse and placed her hands where she shouldn't. "Tell me again where you live, Sophocles," Melaina quizzed, making conversation while they traded gifts, each allowing the other entrance to private folds. His breath was short; his hands trembled.

"Kolonus," he replied with a quivering voice, "Earth's fairest home, where the nightingale trills her clear note even as she does now in this myrtle grove. It's the abode of great Demeter, her daughter, and Poseidon, Demeter's consort and divine lord of horses. Earth's great doorsill of brass is there, an entrance to the Underworld."

"You're a devotee of the two goddesses?"

"I follow Dionysus, god of indestructible life."

Since men wore no undergarments, this was her baptisia, her first view of that tiny unfettered member she'd seen dance at the Isthmus, only now turned rigid, obedient military marvel.

"Have you been initiated in the Mysteries?" she asked, fighting back her own desire.

"No," he said. "Not yet,"

Melaina's chiton slipped from her shoulder, leaving the left breast bared to the evening's eyes. Its color, so white, shone in shadowy darkness. She clasped the strong neck of her companion, brought him to her and kissed him, showing a glimpse of thigh from beneath its hold.

Melaina saw desire within his smile, and felt her own yearning blossom as she knew it mustn't. She found herself defenseless, caught within the weavings of her own romantic cloth. She wanted him. Forget life-long virginity, she thought. She found the swelled member, stroked it.

But from among the myrtle came a crack as from someone creeping, and sharp-edged fear pierced her. Kallias was her immediate thought. Or is it the divine huntress, Artemis, come to prevent my destruction?

Sophocles also stirred. Spooked, he lofted from the ground to standing.

Again, the rustle of bushes.

Each turned away from the other, took one look back.

Off they sped, each in a different direction. Out of the woods and through the alley went Melaina. She saw darkness encroaching, Erebos gathering the blackness of Hades, inking out stars. She panted through the gate, caught two dogs copulating in the alley, caught another glimpse of Kallias disappearing into the night and Palaemon peering from his smithy.

She slammed the door to her sanctum, but had never seen her chamber so dark. She stumbled about refusing to light an oil lamp, stripped and fell amongst the blankets, quilts and rugs. The coarse, pubic feel of animal fur, the sour smell.

Quick guilt plunged in upon her. What have I done? she wondered. She felt drained. She wished dark sleep to cover the memory.

Slowly night's black slumber crept at last, and she dreamt of that which hadn't been. Sophocles, firm, full, erect. Yes! His light touch, gusts of breath. Her dream was so deep and vivid, that she felt a presence was with her. Now, all was possible within her sanctuary. She woke realizing that someone really was with her. A man, full-bearded, powerful, yet ethereal, dream-like. Was it Sophocles? A buzz within her head seemed to singe her thoughts. No, she thought, no, no!

But he was no longer timid, his weight crushing down on her, separating, driving, matching her yearning. Instantly, she thought she knew him, his smell. His massive chest raised, lifted her pelvis to enter her more deeply. She sensed his full size as a sharp shaft of pain split the darkness in a blinding flash, heat threatening to consume her. She seemed in some strange twilight realm between life and death, heard a roar of great ecstasy, felt touched by fire.

CHAPTER 17: The Seizure

That night, Myrrhine passed her daughter's chamber while walking the courtyard and heard a noise from within just as the Hierophant happened by. The two peered through the door, harsh hinges grating, oil lamp barely breaking the darkness. She saw a frightful thrashing under quilts accompanied by wild beastly sounds. Myrrhine thought, Some dumb animal has crawled in bed with Melaina and is killing her. But when she threw back the covers, Melaina was alone and in the clutches of a mighty seizure.

"How long has this been going on?" the Hierophant asked.

"Since she was a child."

CHAPTER 18: The Physician

The next morning, Melaina woke dull, irritable, and afraid. Her tongue was swollen and sore. When she opened her eyes, she saw her mother hovering over her, deep wrinkles chiseled into her forehead. How suffocating her mother's presence had become.

"Yes, mother, the epilepsy returned. Leave me alone." Melaina was surprised at the venom of her own words.

She drifted in and out of sleep. She felt somehow violated, ravaged. She had troubling flashes of the previous evening. Her visitor had seemed both ethereal and corporeal. Her experience during the Mysteries ceremony, when she'd dreamed of entering the Underworld, and the euphoric visions before each of her seizures, had blurred the fine line between illusion and reality. But the smell of him was still on her, replacing all the perfumes. Had it been Sophocles? Had he followed her home and presumed her risky, temptress role an invitation to enter her dark chamber? Or was it a dream?

She was sore between the thighs and wondered if she'd forfeited her maidenhood. She'd never really understood virginity. She'd known girls who'd taken lovers but were still married later as virgins.

That afternoon, as the sun's rays entered from the window high on the wall, she finally rose from bed, donned an old chiton, one to which her mother was especially partial, and went to her chamber. Melaina was surprised to see her mother there on her knees before the bed with her face buried in the covers.

"Don't mind me," her mother offered, rising to reveal tear-filled eyes, "I've been missing your father lately. You've matured considerably since you left for Brauron. Something in your manner reminds me of him."

"My irritability?" Melaina said, slumping to her knees beside her.

"Hardly."

"The seizures do it to me." Melaina hugged her, realizing how grouchy she'd been upon waking. "I've been thinking of my commitment to Artemis lately, and now I realize that what you told me before is true. I don't really understand virginity."

"If you won't marry, why worry?" Her mother looked smug.

"Curiosity."

Her mother smiled, took a deep breath, and shook her head. "Virginity is a purity of the heart defined by a maiden's relationship with the divine. That's why the Pythia at Delphi must be virgin. She's a conveyance for Apollo's prophecies, leaving his word untouched as it flows through her, a perfect rendering."

"But the Pythia is... Some have had children."

"Virginity can be restored. Hera restores hers every spring in Kanathos, the sacred fountain at Nafplion."

"How does a maiden lose her virginity?"

"When married, she dedicates her life to Hera, thus changing her relationship with the divine. When she's joined with her husband, the gods close her off spiritually for bearing children. A woman's body is like a leaky jar. When she becomes pregnant, the jar is sealed and set in its ideal condition. This stops the flow for it to nurture the child."

"The end of virginity is not first intercourse?"

"Definitely not. As I said before, it is similar to initiation into the Mysteries. In the uninitiated state, the soul sways from one life path to another, wandering in a great spiritual wilderness. The desires are insatiable, whether for money, power, sex, or food. After initiation, the soul closes, as an oyster in its shell, and is able to differentiate between what is seemly and what is not. It retains that which nurtures, expels the rest. The desires moderate. Life's tribulations become tolerable, enlightening."

"But what of deflowering? Isn't that loss of virginity?"

"Oh that!" Her mother slapped her leg, stood up. "Men invented that to satisfy their need to be first, to mark the woman as their conquest and bolster their weak opinion of themselves."

"What if a maiden lays with a man before marriage?"

"If an indiscretion occurs but is not made public, the question of virginity never arises. What's the harm?"

"But what of the relationship with the divine."

"If her status with the gods has changed, it will be revealed."

"And if it becomes public?"

"Banishment from the family. Sold as a slave."

Melaina tried hard not to let her mother see how this last pronouncement hurt. She heard a voice outside her mother's chamber that sent a chill through her. Kleito burst into the room and came for Melaina, her great bulk shaking the walls. Little Euripides, clasping her dress, was swept in her wake.

Melaina backed off, turned and flung herself against the wall. "No, Kleito!" she shouted. "No more hellebore!"

Her mother stepped between them and calmed Melaina, explaining that as soon as she realized the epilepsy had returned, she'd sent for Kleito. Melaina relaxed when assured hellebore was not what Kleito had in mind.

Melaina had just caught her breath and stooped to greet Euripides, who tugged at her chiton, when the Hierophant entered with a man and a young woman. The man carried a staff about which was coiled a live yellow snake.

"I've brought Podaleirius, a physician, to examine you," said her grandfather. "He's from the island of Kos, a man of great learning."

Melaina wasn't quite sure what "examine" meant and, if the snake was involved, not particularly anxious to find out. She'd never really been sick. Her constitution had always been sturdy, and good physicians were scarce in Eleusis. Yet trusting her grandfather, she averted her eyes. As the man approached, a pleasant whiff of spikenard preceded him.

The Hierophant addressed her mother. "A medical center has been established on Kos. The knowledge gathered there could one day change the lives of all Hellenes."

"I heard mention of hellebore upon entering," Podaleirius said, already intensely observing his patient. "Has someone administered to the maiden?"

Melaina noted the physician to be tastefully modest in dress, alert, and she liked him instantly.

"I did," said Kleito, "after a previous seizure."

The physician's face flooded with pain, eyes momentarily closed. He was tall, broad shouldered, bearded, a man of great dignity. He questioned Kleito about the hellebore while circling Melaina, his eyes scanning every detail of her anatomy. "Method of preparation, please."

Kleito bristled but gave him the rudiments of the harvest and extraction of the active ingredient, the steaming broth she'd administered.

"That's all?"

"Yes... Well..." She looked ready to lie but glanced sheepishly toward Myrrhine. "Also a little Herakleia," she admitted, a little girl's frightened look flashing her face.

"Administered?"

"In the broth."

"Simultaneously?" The physician's expression of disapproval returned. "Unfortunate. You could have killed her."

Kleito's face turned bright red. "Never would I do anything to harm the child!"

"For epilepsy, Herakleia should be used separately in a posset of mead, a fermented drink of water and honey, malt and yeast."

"I know how to prepare a posset," said Kleito, spitting out the words. "Her condition dictated a unique praxis."

"She survived. We certainly won't repeat it."

Kleito stepped toward the physician who flinched slightly then regained his posture. "I came to recommend they take her to Epidaurus," she said. "I've recently heard of cures for the sacred sickness there."

Melaina eyed the snake coiled about the staff. Slowly its head moved, slithered, scales flashing pale golds. A serpent, she thought, a dragon. She noticed that her grandfather was also distracted, as if suffering himself.

"Epilepsy is no more sacred than any other so-called divine disease," the physician said. "All diseases have a cosmic cause. Epilepsy not more so. Its origin lies in heredity." Melaina thought his speech was elegant, and that Podaleirius had a generally pleasant presence.

"Her father's death caused it," countered Myrrhine. "Neither her father nor I, nor any of our family, has ever had it. She had no sign of it before his death at Marathon."

"Still, she had the inclination. One of you gave her that. The brain overflows with phlegm, which rushes into the blood vessels. It's released by cold, wind, or sun."

As he examined Melaina, she noticed how his eyes at times looked upward into the distance, projecting great inner emotion, as might one who absorbs the suffering of his patient.

"Won't she outgrow it?" asked Myrrhine.

"Is it getting better or worse?"

"She had no seizures for years but started again recently, following her trauma at Brauron."

"I'd say not. Marking is the only chance of recovery."

"Marking?"

"Gnarling of a hand, drawing of the mouth. Some such paralysis or a distortion of the eye."

"Oh, by all that's divine, no!" said Myrrhine.

"Perhaps when she's married. Intercourse and pregnancy help."

"But she's given herself to Artemis and sworn to remain virgin."

"Does she become hysterical easily?"

"Never."

"Her womb is not overly dry then, no straying about the abdominal cavity seeking moisture from the liver, heart, or bladder. The animal within it desires bearing children, becomes discontent, angry, and wanders about the body. Does she suffer mental derangement, ramble or utter obscenities?"

"Outrageous!"

He handed the staff with the coiled snake to his assistant and approached Melaina directly. "Have you started the menses?"

"While in Brauron. I've had the flow six times."

"Ah, you've danced the Bear for Artemis. Is your flow regular?"

"Only a day's difference."

"How do you measure it? I'd have thought the south wind might make it unpredictable."

"The phase of the moon."

"Okay then," he said looking satisfied with his physical examination. "Yesterday was the winter solstice, which activated the seizure, I'm sure. The fit occurred in the evening, I assume, a general violence of the body including shaking of the limbs."

Melaina wondered why he didn't ask her what had happened rather than make these pronouncements, even though they were correct.

He took her chin in his palm, pushed his finger between her lips and pried apart her teeth. Melaina gagged. His finger was cold, musty, with a hint of mint.

He spoke to the young woman. "Hygieiadora."

His assistant had stayed silent and back from the group but now returned the staff with coiled snake, and she began testing Melaina's body. She took both hands in hers, squeezed, same with the forearms, biceps. She brought Melaina's arms out from her sides to test freedom of movement, felt the constriction of waist, the thighs, flair of hips, felt the newly ripened breasts.

Melaina giggled and pulled away.

Hygieiadora returned to Podaleirius and spoke quietly in his ear.

"She's in excellent health," he informed his attentive audience, "deformed less than most women from the male norm."

Melaina was greatly offended by this remark, but bit back her words.

"She's hotter than most females, less moist. Good signs but they don't help the epilepsy." He fell into thought, closed his eyes as if communicating with some apparition, then, with a start, resumed talking. "My guess would be that you've been suffering from melancholy, and are unusually devoted to the gods. Ill-tempered, perhaps even ill-mannered."

Her mother again defended Melaina. "Scandalous! Certainly not."

"This is the so-called diviner's disease. You may at times prophesy while experiencing wondrous visions and frequently lapse into the madness of the Muses. Last night, by all indications, you had gnawing of the tongue accompanied by copious froth. Afterward, you felt weak, pale, and lethargic, the head heavy."

"Yes," said Melaina. "Correct on all counts."

"A treatment frequently used in the east, in such a case, is to drill a hole in the head, drain excess fluids directly from the skull."

Myrrhine screamed and rushed to Melaina. "Enough!" she said, "No more of this outrage!"

"Not a treatment I'd recommend for this maiden," said the physician coldly.

"Mother, please." Melaina pushed her back. "I'll not suffer the skull drilling, but the diagnosis is accurate. He understands the euphoria. Not all burdens are a curse," she added, remembering her father's words. She turned to the physician. "Just before each seizure I exist in the presence of the gods."

"As do we all. You are only more intensely aware of them."

"Not true," said Melaina. "I see them."

The physician stared piercingly. "Visions?"

"Yes, same landscape but with the gods added, as if a veil has been lifted to reveal their presence." She remembered her experience last night but didn't dare say that one had lain with her.

"Astonishing! Your condition shouldn't be meddled with by a mortal. Physical sensations at onset?"

"It comes like a breeze, an aura. I also see visions in fire."

"Of the future, no doubt." He turned to Kleito, who'd slinked back out of sight. "I agree she should go to Epidaurus. Put her directly in the hands of Asklepios. I'm afraid to touch her myself, although I'm a follower of the god, one of the Asklepiadai." Melaina realized this intimated that he was a direct descendent of Asklepios.

Kleito stepped forward, her sour face cracked by a smile. "Precisely my thought."

Podaleirius again turned to Melaina. "I can provide you with some preventive measures. Stay indoors, avoid a south wind. Here at Eleusis, you're protected by the mountains to the north but subject to southern winds off the sea. The hill provides little protection." He trailed off for a moment, seemed to lose his train of thought. "Because of this," he continued, "inhabitants of Eleusis have heads clogged with phlegm, which aggravates the maiden's problem. It also disrupts other internal organs. Their constitution is flabby. They tolerate neither food nor drink. Women are susceptible to vaginal discharge and miscarriages. Men are sterile, suffer from dysentery and fevers; boys experience dropsy of the testicles."

Melaina noticed her mother flinch, catch her breath, when the physician mentioned miscarriages, and she wondered why he'd added the bit about male anatomy.

He again turned to Kleito. "Your simultaneous treatment of the maiden with hellebore and Herakleia was brutal but courageous. If she was to be cured at all by them that would have certainly done it."

Kleito smiled, beamed at this redemption.

Podaleirius turned to Melaina. "Until you go to Epidaurus, avoid sleeping on the ground. That's particularly bad for adolescents. Nor should you sleep on your back. Avoid whirling wheels. They can cause paroxysmos. I could bleed you, but that is better accomplished in the spring. Maintain a light diet. Eat the meat of young he-goats, lambs, pigs, and dogs. Avoid foods that produce constipation or flatulence. Absolutely no mushrooms. No wine. Instead dilute honey in a little vinegar." He searched his bag for a moment and produced a vial from which he poured a powder into a terracotta cup. "Sniff this to provoke sneezing before bed."

The physician closed his bag and prepared to leave. He spoke quietly to Hygieiadora before addressing the Hierophant whom he'd ignored throughout his examination. "Let us not forget, the gods are the real physicians. We but exercise their wisdom. Don't delay the trip to Epidaurus." He looked at Myrrhine. "Her life could depend on it."

With that, the physician and his assistant left the room, the Hierophant leading them, leaning heavily on his staff, and arguing the fee.

"Now, about my illness," the Hierophant said.

Little Euripides ran to Melaina, and she lifted him into her arms with a great sense of relief. Someone finally understood her condition. Once Euripides had hugged her neck, he struggled down and tore out of the room after the physician. "Snake!" he cried.

CHAPTER 19: Prophecy on the Road

Melaina's flow was absent for the next two months, but she hid the fact from her mother by smearing her rags with goat blood. Simply an effect of the south wind, she told herself but broke out in a nervous sweat nonetheless. Sophocles seldom came to Eleusis anymore, and this both puzzled and troubled Melaina. When next she saw him, he'd had his shoulder-length hair cut, long blond locks now clipped in the short style of most men. She noticed the beginning of a beard. Melaina realized that Sophocles' father had given him a festival and initiated him into the deme of Kolonus. He had come of age. Her attempted encounters with Sophocles had ended before they began, were brief and confused. Melaina was guilt-ridden, angry, longed to see him more than ever.

Despite the physician's urging, wet winter weather did delay her trip to Epidaurus. Boreas' evil frost-breath unleashed its fury from the north, bringing rain and settling drought dust. Not to be outdone, his brother Zephyrus' stormy blast howled in from the west. Intermittent sunshine brought tender barley shoots to the fields and hillsides. Wildflowers lent fragrance to the air, iris and blooming honeysuckle.

Melaina brought her little troop indoors to the women's courtyard, as her Uncle Aeschylus had suggested and the weather demanded, and it swelled to ten. She'd turned down several as too young. They'll be sending them to me in swaddling clothes, she thought. Word that she had something special to teach was spreading. She'd composed her own songs on the lyre, as had Sappho on the sandy shores of Lesbos four generations before. Melaina concentrated on local myths and customs of Eleusis. She taught the girls to write. They read poorly, and Melaina was appalled that most couldn't make their letters. She realized then how thorough her own mother's training had been. She started drawing the letters with a stylus herself before giving them the slate, and then told them to trace hers.

One night Melaina woke from a nightmare of being raped, and rather than dwell upon it, rose to write down some of her own lyrics, having noticed the epilepsy stealing bits of memory. She'd seen spider webs before her eyes and wondered if she was having small seizures while alone. She lit an oil lamp and retrieved waxed tablets, papyrus and lampblack from within an old chest where she stored miscellaneous items.

Thus, she was already up when the Hierophant came to wake her for the trip to Epidaurus. The weather had changed overnight and the prognosticators gave several days of moderate winds. She was to make ready for a trip of seven days. She ran quickly to her mother's chamber to ask what to bring, and found her sitting in the middle of her floor weeping and talking to her dead husband as if he were present. "Please forgive this longing for remarriage," Melaina heard her say.

"Mother, why are you crying? You're to marry?"

"Don't I wish," her mother said. "These are tears of relief. I've wanted to go to Epidaurus for years."

While they gathered the few things allowed, Melaina listened to her mother gush details of desires she'd kept secret. "After you were born, I had no more children," her mother said. "I've willed not to marry again out of love for your father, although no one would have me anyway because I'm barren. Epidaurus is a great center for curing this problem. Since you've refused to marry, I've been considering it again myself. Asklepios may be the answer." Then Myrrhine broke down completely, sobbing like a little girl. "I've felt so distraught because Demeter and Kore could send up blessings from beneath the earth, but they chose to leave me barren and unmarried."

Melaina took her mother into her own arms and let her heaving sobs take their course. It seemed to Melaina that her mother had become her child. She'd never realized how tormented her mother had been since her father's death. But Melaina also recognized a change in herself. While still short of fifteen, she felt that she was gaining an uncommon maturity. Melaina wondered if this was really true or arrogance's sly seduction.

*

It was still pitch dark when Melaina and her mother arrived at the dock with her grandfather. With them, they brought two slaves, a married man and woman, who used switches to goad along a small herd of sacrificial animals: goats, sheep and pigs. The man also dragged a wagon of caged cocks, all with legs tied to keep them from fighting. In the dim torchlight, Melaina could barely make out the ship's crew, hard at work hauling at the forestays to raise the mast from its crutch and set it in the tabernacle. This was a merchant sailing ship with rounded swooping lines, none of the linear sleekness of a trireme.

The crew pushed the ship away from dock with punting poles, and immediately Melaina missed the aulete's beat, the swish of oars. But she soon learned to appreciate the pop of white linen sails, the sing of twisted-papyrus halyards, the groan of the yard against the mast. Even in rough water, however, the galley was lethargic.

They sailed on in silence, dawn's pink glow gradually revealing the coastline of Salamis as they skirted west through the strait of Megara and broke out into the open water of the Saronic Gulf. The Hierophant's deep voice came alive to tell Melaina of Saron, the ancient king of Troezen, who hunted a hind into these waters, but became overcome by waves and met his fate in the deep. The gulf was named for the king. The Hierophant also told of Theseus being born and raised in Troezen, just south of Epidaurus. They'd not sail quite that far.

Conversation quickly lapsed as they passed the southern edge of Salamis and were more exposed to the winds that carved great swells in the sea. The boat pitched violently, bow breaking through wave after wave sending showers of seawater across the deck. The animals' worried cries, bleats, oinks and baas were a constant strain on Melaina's ears. She'd never been south farther than Salamis nor seen the open sea. Now the expanse of the Mediterranean stretched all the way to Egypt.

The Hierophant seemed to shed his years, along with the pain he'd lately felt. He came alive, talking as Melaina had never heard him, telling of how in his youth, he'd commanded a ship himself. Before becoming Hierophant, he'd been a merchant and sailed to far off lands: Crete, Cyprus, even Phoenicia. The Hierophant hummed ancient sea tunes long since forgotten by most, and talked of Melaina's grandmother, how she'd died in childbirth. He was an old man when he'd married her, she just a girl. Melaina, he said, reminded him so much of her. If she'd lived, she'd be Aeschylus' age.

Melaina noticed her mother's saddened expression at the mention of her mother. Melaina knew that she had never known her and realized for the first time what a tragedy that must have been.

Afternoon came and went, and just before sundown, they made dock at a small headland jutting out into the gulf. The Hierophant pointed to a building on a rocky spur. "Hera's temple," he said. "We'll spend the night there."

"This isn't Asklepios' healing center?" Melaina asked.

"Half a day's journey inland. We'll be there midday tomorrow."

Melaina felt uneasy staying in Hera's temple. She'd avoided the goddess of marriage since making the decision to follow Artemis. Tonight she'd have no escape.

The grain ship dropped them off at the dock and continued on south. Melaina wondered why no one met their group, but the Hierophant didn't seem to expect anyone and labored on up the hill, each step torturing his bent frame. He leaned upon his staff and poked at their small herd of animals to help the two slaves. The goats, particularly excited about being off the boat, kicked up their heels.

The sanctuary was enclosed within a stone entry with large double doors. All was silent except for the wind whistling between stones and bowing trees. The Hierophant pounded on the doors with his staff, waited, then pounded again. Finally, they creaked open, and an old toothless man poked his head out. When he saw the Hierophant's purple cloak and gold-spiked staff, he fled. Soon an old, cow-eyed woman appeared, her matronly face partly shrouded by a veil, her dark hair falling freely to the middle of her back. She spoke little but showed great respect for the Hierophant. She ushered the group inside and slaves provided an abundant repast, then she showed them to their bedchambers. She left to show their slaves where to pen the animals and let the chickens loose to stretch their legs.

But Melaina had another errand to perform and stole quietly outside to Hera's temple. Inside, she found a beautiful ivory and gold statue of Hera seated on a throne. The goddess wore a gold diadem, as had the old crone who'd opened the gate, and a double-sleeved chiton exposing white arms. In one hand she held a pomegranate, a seed symbol linking her to the Mysteries of Eleusis, and in the other a sceptre. A cuckoo sat on top of the sceptre, a manifestation of the form Zeus took to court Hera. Hera's face had broad, handsome features, a high forehead, and a dark, somber mood revealed in the eyes. The corners of her mouth drooped. Zeus' wife was stormy, sullen, but glorious.

Melaina stood uneasily before the statue. "Dearest mother Hera, first of goddesses on Olympus, blessed queen of all and consort of almighty Zeus, who guards the keys of marriage. I've come to beg your forgiveness. I've neglected you since deciding to remain virgin and follow Artemis. I mean no disrespect..."

Melaina stopped. She heard a ringing in her ears and felt the presence of a great hostility. She tried to characterize it further but was lost. She continued. "Threefold goddess of the moon, though I myself will not marry, I'll forever be in your service, preparing young maidens for the celebration of your sacred marriage rites..."

Melaina sensed a growing threat, a hovering hatred. She backed away from the statue and returned to her chamber. But she didn't sleep well, tossed and turned, and lay awake most of the night. She heard her mother's deep breathing next to her and the Hierophant's groans in the adjoining room. Throughout her life she'd always sought solace in the presence of the divine, but here at Hera's temple, she was an outcast.

*

Next morning, Melaina and her mother were up before dawn and loaded into a four-wheel, mule-drawn carriage. They brought a second four-wheed cart for slaves, sheep, goats, and pigs and pulled the two-wheeled chicken wagon behind. The cold wind blew through Melaina's clothes and chilled her to the bone. The weather prognosticators had miscalculated the duration of fair weather. Four heavily armed horsemen—two in back, two in front—escorted their carriage. The men had to shout to be heard over the wind. Melaina's excitement had been dampened by a distemperate mood, and she wondered if she'd had another seizure during the night. Her tongue showed no sign of it.

The Hierophant told her that they needed the military escort as a precaution. Asklepios' sanctuary was not far from Argos. The Argives, perennial enemies of the Spartans, had remained neutral in the war against the Persians, had not participated in the battle of Salamis, and had lately entertained an envoy from Mardonius. The Hierophant's little entourage would probably not encounter open hostility, but roving bands of raiders were a possibility.

The two mules pulling the carriage were strong, quick-stepping beasts of great presence and confidence. The passenger carriage had a substantial roof supported by ornamental columns, and the sides were closed with draw curtains of gaily-decorated silk separating passengers from driver. Their compartment, although private, provided little comfort from the jostling of wood wheels wrapped with iron straps. Even being tossed about was tolerable, but the tortured shriek of the axles spooked the mules. Just when Melaina thought she would scream herself, one of the horsemen halted the carriage and applied dregs of animal fat to the spindles.

Farther from the coast, the forest became thicker, and a heavy rain hit, large drops pounding the roof. The wet road dropped into a deep wooded ravine and soon became a wash. Waterfalls brought down boulders that had to be pushed aside before proceeding. Melaina took every opportunity to peek outside the compartment and watched as the road again became steeper. The mules struggled up the mountainside, wheezing as the breast bands rode up against their throats. A lightning bolt struck a tree just in front of the carriage, followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder that echoed off the hillsides. The mules lost their confidence. The left one turned stubborn and crowded his companion into the rocky cliff. At a second thunderbolt, he stopped completely, sat on his rump with front legs stiff as posts, pointed his nose toward the zenith and brayed loudly.

A horsemen dismounted and covered the reluctant mule's face with a cloth, tied it behind the ears. The mule recovered, rose to all fours, and swished its bony tail. The man then grabbed the bridles of both mules and walked between them. But the day grew darker under the heavy clouds while bitter winds swirled among the trees. The carriage struggled up the flanks of the mountain as a dense fog engulfed them. Eerie noises emerged from the gloom, and Melaina heard distant shouts. The road descended from the mountainside onto a plain, and the fog thickened. The horseman removed the cloth from the mule's face, remounted his horse, and quickened the pace. Melaina lay back on the cushions and dozed.

Shouts woke Melaina from a painful sleep, her heart pounding. Myrrhine pushed the curtain aside to reveal a band of horsemen descending upon them, as if conjured from the fog. Men in strange dress surrounded the carriage, two with sparkling-white turbans. The four soldiers who were supposed to protect the Hierophant and priestesses stood at the ready, swords drawn, but were hopelessly out-manned.

Melaina felt a pounding in her ears, and her vision blurred. She couldn't seem to wake up. Harsh words were exchanged and their own four soldiers sheathed their swords. The entourage then pulled off the road and made for a grove of pine trees, leaving behind the slaves and their carts of sacrificial animals.

Melaina struggled to remain alert, realizing that they were now prisoners.

All were forced from the carriage at sword point, and Melaina's vision cleared although she lost her hearing. More soldiers were present than she'd thought, some mere phantoms. Someone spoke her name, and a helmeted warrior-woman appeared at her elbow. A stab of pain in her temple told her she was having a seizure. She heard her mother shout, "She's falling!" The Hierophant grabbed her.

*

Melaina regained consciousness lying on the wet ground, her head and shoulders in her mother's lap. She tried to speak but still lacked full control of her tongue. She gradually remembered where she was, and became aware of a whispering crowd gathered about her. Her mother argued with someone Melaina didn't recognize, then realized it was one of their captors. A painful mixture of fear and anger coursed through her. She struggled to her feet but immediately fell to her knees.

As soon as she could walk, the turbaned men led the Hierophant, Myrrhine, and Melaina before a large tent within the grove, where they were told to stand under the shelter of the trees. Their captors were dressed in tiaras, embroidered tunics with sleeves, coats of glistening mail, and baggy breeches. They carried javelins, light wicker shields, and quivers with cane arrows. Swords swung at their sides. Melaina heard her grandfather whisper, "Xerxes' so-called Immortals."

They were ushered into the tent where a man, who appeared Greek yet spoke with an accent, addressed them. Melaina's cloudy mind gradually cleared although she desperately wished to sleep. Her mother remained close.

"My name is Mys," said the seated man before them. "I'm a Carian of Euromus, sent by Mardonius to consult the oracles about the coming land war. We've visited the cave of Trophonius at Lebadia, the oracle of Ismenian Apollo at Thebes, and the oracle at Abae in Phokis. We'd go to Delphi if they'd accept us, but Apollo routed our forces there when we first entered Hellas a year ago."

Another man stepped forward, one with a clubfoot. "I'm Hegesistratus, Mardonius' diviner. We've heard rumors of one amongst you, a maiden, who has the falling sickness. She carries great weight with the gods, stopping earthquakes and enlisting the help of long-dead heroes in battle. Some say she's descended to the Underworld and can tell the future."

Hegesistratus was famous throughout Greece. His was a strange story, having been captured years before by Spartans who had planned to put him to death. They chained him to a post, but during the night, Hegesistratus carefully gauged the size of his foot, and amputated part of it to slip free. Melaina could see that his left foot was now made of gnarled wood.

Hegesistratus continued. "A word from that maid may be worth all the oracles of Hellas. Is she the one we seek?" He pointed at Melaina.

The Hierophant stepped forward. "Suppose she is. You expect her to commit treason?"

"No," replied Mys. "Revealing the future won't change it."

"But one who knows could shift the circumstance to advantage. Otherwise you'd not care to know it."

Hegesistratus responded. "I already know the future. We wish to influence the Hellene generals. Words from the mouth of one of their own seers might help them understand the futility of resisting."

Mys spoke again. "Hellas can never escape the long arm of Xerxes' superhuman forces. Mardonius now commands Xerxes' army, and Hellas will soon lie in ruins in its wake."

"And what god gave this privileged knowledge?" asked the Hierophant.

"The gods of Intelligence and Reason."

Melaina's thoughts had cleared considerably, but she was left with the usual irritability. She spoke from behind the Hierophant's back. "More likely the Persian gods of Arrogance and Conceit."

One of the Immortals pushed her forward so Mys could get a better look at this insolent maiden. Another restrained the Hierophant by pushing him against the tent wall with his shield, dagger at the Hierophant's throat.

Melaina hadn't intended to endanger her grandfather, and she wondered if his life might now hinge on her words. Watching as Mys assessed her, she felt her anger boil again and had to bite her tongue.

Mys's words, initially charged with anger, softened as he spoke. "I've come to prevent a great catastrophe. Mardonius has no desire to destroy Hellas. The generals will find that he's offering excellent terms, but if they don't accept, Hellas will be reduced to a dark world of shades. If you do have insight into the future, reveal it, so your generals may see their folly."

Before meeting Keladeine at the Isthmus, Melaina might have believed him, but the breath of freedom she experienced on that outing taught her what was at stake. Her grandfather started to speak, but one of the Immortals shut him up with a blow to the midsection.

Melaina found courage in her anger. "The gods grant our earthly freedom, and it's not subject to any mortal's dominion. As long as a single Hellene remains alive, no peace with Persia is possible. Such is the love of freedom Zeus planted in our Hellenic hearts."

"Listen to reason!" Mys said, hot anger again thickening his voice. "I'm Hellene also. I come in good faith. I ask only that you consult the gods yourself. Let them reveal the future, so you may enlighten the generals."

Hegesistratus whispered into Mys's ear. Mys spoke again to Melaina. "If you perform your augury by sacrifice, we'll supply the victim."

Melaina stood her ground before both of these great men. She saw the sincerity in Mys's face, his desire for peace. She distrusted clubfooted Hegesistratus and spoke directly to him. "I have no need to filet a beast, spread its entrails upon the earth and examine the shapes and hues. When you came upon us just now, I had a seizure. At times before I fall, I'm allowed to view the world the way the gods see it." Then Melaina turned back to Mys. "This time, I saw great Ares, god of war himself, sitting on your right shoulder, goading you on."

"See! I told you as much," said Mys. "Surely with such a god on our side you must see the inevitability of Xerxes' victory."

Melaina didn't budge. "Such is the god of war's way that he prefers bloodshed to peace. Ares' affection for war makes him poor counsel. And he's no good in a skirmish. Remember Homer? Ares fought with the Trojans and even appeared on the battlefield to participate in the slaughter, but was wounded himself by Athena. He went whimpering to Zeus. Even the mortal Herakles injured him in one-to-one combat. Follow Ares to your ruin. Just now, however, I also saw Athena, Zeus' daughter and guardian of Athens, standing with us and offering her wise council."

Deep lines of concern crossed Mys's face, but he was silent. Hegesistratus stepped back from Melaina.

She continued. "Before I fell just now, the gods revealed the way before us as simultaneous paths to not one, as you envision, but to two great battles. Zeus himself doesn't know the outcome, also being subject to the Fates who have yet to weave the fabric of our future. But the gods revealed to me the death of one man, a Persian. He'll ride a great white horse on the battlefield and be toppled from it, his head crushed by a mighty stone."

Mys was visibly shaken. His face paled.

"You wanted my prophecy," she said. "Now you have it."

"So be it," he said. "You may return then, in all your stubbornness, to your own travels. May the gods be merciful with us all."

Shortly, the Hierophant's little troop was back on the road. A powerful shivering then seized Melaina. She shook so much that she feared another seizure. Myrrhine wrapped her in a blanket and held her close. Gradually, Melaina's shaking subsided. "It's just fear," she said. "I'll be all right."

The slaves along with sacrificial animals, were waiting for them back at the road, although the Persians had confiscated a pig and a goat. "Not a bad price for our lives," said the Hierophant.

Melaina's mother was quiet, eyes still glued on her daughter for any sign of further sickness. The Hierophant, seeing his granddaughter's rapid recovery, was all smiles. "The gods must have let me live to this ripe old age just to witness the antics of this young one."

Hearing more voices, Melaina pulled aside the curtain. They'd arrived at the rain-drenched sanctuary of Asklepios.

CHAPTER 20: The Seer of Epidaurus

The Hierophant's troop approached from the north, halting at a rise to take in the view. Below them, Asklepios' sanctuary sat in a sacred glen crowded with pines and stone buildings and enclosed by rolling hills. The dark thunderheads parted, allowing sunlight to rain down on the holy site, while shadows shrouded all else.

"Helios honors Asklepios with his rays," said the Hierophant. "The sanctuary has grown considerably since I was here last." Then he pointed out three buildings in the center of the glen. The first was a tall rectangular structure with marble columns. "That's the temple of Asklepios," he said. "The Tholos next to it is new, definitely not here when last I came, but it's quite something. Perhaps we'll learn its significance. The long building is the Abaton, where patients incubate."

"Incubate?" asked Melaina.

"You'll learn soon enough."

Melaina was disappointed when they didn't enter the sanctuary immediately. After the Hierophant dismissed their escort to return to the temple of Hera, each of the three separated a goat from the animal cart, bidding the slave couple wait outside the sanctuary. Then, each leading their goat, they went on foot up a hill to the southeast, Mt. Kynortion, ascending along with several other travelers.

"We climb to this hilltop to first sacrifice to Apollo, Asklepios' father," said the Hierophant. "He was the original healing god, and his son heals in his name."

Melaina saw a father and three sons carrying a fourth brother with paralyzed legs, and then listened while her mother questioned an old woman, who said she came in place of a daughter too sick with dropsy to make the trip. Another woman complained of a worm in her belly. Melaina also saw a boy with an oozing growth on his neck, and a man, wounded in the lung by an arrow, who was spitting up pus, a bowl a day, he said.

Before sacrificing to the god, they cleansed themselves at a fountain house where priests collected holy water the god had sent up from the ground. Then the three, along with their goats, trudged on up the mountain. On the hilltop, the three approached a small, open-air sanctuary set on a stone terrace. The temple's considerable age was obvious from its two gnarled timber columns that supported the slanted, patchwork portico, which sheltered the slaughter stone and the two priests performing the sacrifices. The three crowded forward along with other rain-drenched supplicants.

As they stood before the butcher stone, the Hierophant explained the need for sacrificing to Apollo. "The two gods, Apollo, the bringer of plague, and Asklepios, the one who cures, are representations of the same universal force. Through Apollo's son, the power to kill becomes the skill to heal. Before we can experience the healing light of Asklepios, we must acknowledge Apollo's deadly darkness. Apollo has been worshiped here since far back in time. After murdering his mother, Agamemnon's son Orestes came here seeking refuge. The sanctuary of Asklepios didn't exist then, just this temple."

After the sacrifice, they started down the hill with the rest of the supplicants, but the Hierophant stepped off the footpath. "Spread your cloaks over the damp grass," he said, taking a seat under a large oak and stretching out as if ready for a nap.

"Why are you delaying us again, grandfather?" asked Melaina.

"Patience, little one," he said. "I want to rest my head on the soft grass, listen to the rustle of the old oak's leaves, and pretend I'm at Dodona decoding the words of Zeus. Dealing with near-death experiences may be refreshing to you, but it's tiring to an old man. I shook in my sandals after that Persian knocked the breath from me. I don't care much for my own life, but to see that of my only descendents snuffed out would be more than I could bear." He looked at Myrrhine. "Tell her of the life and death of Asklepios, so she won't be bored while I try to restore myself. Growing old is such a delight when you can spend it witnessing the bravery of your grandchildren."

"It wasn't bravery, grandfather. I'm always irritable after a seizure. My ill temper caused my brashness. I worry that I could have gotten us all killed."

Since she'd not been able to sleep following the seizure, Melaina still hadn't fully recovered. She worried about her performance before Mys, realizing how certain she'd sounded when she told him of her vision. Had she really seen Ares and Athena? Or simply made a convenient assumption to win her argument with Hegesistratus?

Her mother began telling the myth of Asklepios, but Melaina wished her grandfather had told it instead. She loved his deep, mystery-filled voice. Her mother's voice was smooth enough, though quiet, and Melaina feared she might fall asleep.

"Apollo, deity that he is, was unlucky in love," Myrrhine began, "and so he was with Koronis, Asklepios' mortal mother who took her name from her beauty. While she was pregnant with Apollo's child, she lay with a mortal, which enraged Apollo, and he killed her. Her body was put on the funeral pyre, but Apollo couldn't bear to see his son die with the wild flames of the fire god lapping about it, so he snatched the infant from his mother's burning corpse."

Melaina heard her grandfather snoring and realized that he hadn't slept much lately because of his unspoken illness. She lay back beside him, watching the mountains of fluffy clouds sail overhead while her mother continued.

"All mortals, who have a divine father, also have an earthly one. The mortal side of Asklepios' myth is that Koronis, who in this version was also named Aigla, the Luminous One, was the daughter of Phlegyas, the most courageous soldier alive. He didn't know that his daughter was pregnant when he brought her to Epidaurus, so when she gave birth to Asklepios, she abandoned the child, who was then suckled by a she-goat on Mt. Titthion. Aresthanas, a goatherd, saw the child, who was being protected by the dog guarding the goats, and went to get him, but was driven back by dazzling light as if from a divine epiphany."

Melaina's grandfather stopped snoring. "The hill we're on is Mt. Kynortion," he said, "and was named for the dog that watched over the child. Mt. Titthion," he pointed to another hill in the distance, "that one there, was named for the goat's teat from which he garnered nourishment."

Her mother continued her story. "Hermes took Asklepios to the Centaur, Cheiron, the wisest and most learned of all beings, who taught him the art of healing. Though a son of Apollo, Asklepios was mortal. He became famous for inventing medications, and was so effective at healing that he could resurrect the dead. Zeus thought he might make humankind immortal, so he killed Asklepios with a lightning bolt. Thus, Asklepios was born and died in flames. Apollo, saddened by the death of his son, made him immortal."

"What's wrong with resurrecting the dead?" Melaina asked.

Her grandfather answered. "Mortals are not meant to spend eternity here on earth. The body is a prison for the soul. Remember your training in the Orphic myths. To raise the dead in this world is no boon. We must pass to the next life."

"Is there a connection between resurrection and fire?"

Her mother answered, "Remember the funeral pyres on Salamis? Fire is the coinage for transport to the world of the immortals. To go to the Elysian Fields is a resurrection. That's why Asklepios is there. It's another statement of the Mysteries."

Some of the other supplicants drifted close by, and the Hierophant said, "We'd better stop speaking of sacred subjects in public. We could be overheard."

They roused themselves and rejoined the stream of visitors descending the hill, but the Hierophant continued speaking of Asklepios. "The gods' temples are usually on mountaintops, as is this temple of Apollo, but Asklepios is a chthonian god and dwells below, so he may send up holy water and healing herbs. Thus, his sanctuary is in this sacred valley. In his worldly manifestation he lives both in the earth and atop it, traveling between worlds. The priests here will teach you about his method of communing with us: dreams."

The group reached a double stone wall, the two separated by a ditch that surrounded the entire cluster of sacred buildings. The Hierophant had the slaves take their sacrificial animals to a holding pen outside the sanctuary. There, inside a dormitory, the slaves were to remain and care for the animals until they were needed for sacrifice.

The Hierophant and two priestesses passed into the sanctuary through a gate and over a small bridge. They met a groaning old man as he left, writhing in pain and assisted by two young men. "Beware the cures," he said as he passed. "Immortals apportion two trials for every blessing." Melaina wanted to question him about this, but the others had continued on, so she followed, wondering if some hidden danger lurked within the sacred glen.

A priest met the stream of visitors as they entered the grounds. Several assistants stood at his side, and as he determined each person's reason for coming, bade one of the assistants walk that person to the appropriate facility.

They witnessed their first cure. A mute girl, who saw a snake just as she entered the sacred grounds, screamed and returned home healed, having yet to even meet the priest. But Melaina witnessed something she'd not imagined seeing at a healing center. The man in line before them was very ill and being carried on a couch by his five sons. In spite of his dire need, the priest would not allow them entry. "But he's dying!" cried the eldest son. "Precisely why he can't enter," replied the priest. "No one can die in the sanctuary." The argument continued until a small troop of soldiers appeared and forcefully removed the sick man and his family.

Melaina started after them and had to be pulled back by her mother. "They've given him a death sentence," Melaina argued.

After sizing up the three of them, the priest said to the Hierophant, "Ordinarily our patients are assigned a space in the dormitory, but for dignitaries, particularly those of your stature, we put them up in a residence." He turned to an assistant, an old man whose eyes were strangely sunken and kept shut. The priest spoke quietly in the man's ear, then turned back to them. "During your stay here remember one fact. Whosoever passes through the Propylon, under whatever auspices, leaves the profane world and enters the sanctified." He looked directly at the Hierophant. "Make sure all your actions are in keeping with that thought."

Melaina wondered if her grandfather had taken offense, when the priest grabbed her hand and placed it into that of the old, shut-eyed man. Melaina realized that she was to lead the man, who was in fact blind, his eyes sunken, wrinkled, and seeming to suck his entire face into the sockets.

"Point me along the path," the blind man said, "and we'll find your accommodations."

Was that possible? Melaina looked to her mother and grandfather.

"Yes, I'm blind," the man said, "but still quite useful as a guide. I'm called Udaeüs, named for the forefather of Teiresias, blind seer of Thebes." He walked with a cane of cornel wood that he banged against her to test her position.

"Careful of my shins," Melaina said, wincing. "We know of Thebes, traitor to Hellas and co-conspirator with the Persians."

Udaeüs ignored her cutting remark. "Tell me, have you any idea where we are?" he asked.

"A small temple is on our right. It's not very well kept," Melaina said.

"Ah, the temple of Themis. A little farther then. My family is from Kolophon in Ionia, a Hellene colony founded by Manto, Teiresias' daughter."

"Another Persian stronghold," said Melaina. "Are you a spy?"

Her mother grabbed her by the arm, her eyes casting daggers, but Melaina had taken an immediate disliking to the blind man.

Again Udaeüs ignored her. "Where are we now?" he asked. "What have we come to?"

"A long building stretching away from the path to the right, and beyond it, a temple."

"The long building is the Abaton. You'll get to know that well enough, I suppose. Guide me to the temple. It belongs to Asklepios." He pulled her by the hand. "Come. Guide me, guide me. We don't ordinarily allow patients into the temple even for prayer. To stay on temple grounds is a great honor."

Then Udaeüs asked Myrrhine and the Hierophant to remain just inside the temple entrance. "Into the hall," he told Melaina, forcing her forward. As they walked, he played with her hand, traced a sensual circle over her palm.

She hated him for it. "Don't molest me," she said.

Udaeüs chuckled. "The tender digits of a young woman are such a comfort to an old man."

She led him to the back where he spoke to an elderly priest, who was shorter than Melaina. The three then returned to the entryway to the Hierophant and Myrrhine, where Udaeüs took his leave, speaking directly to Melaina as if he could see, although she realized he meant his words for the three of them. "You'll be seeing more of me. I attend the fires at all the altars."

The tiny priest then addressed them, Hierophant first. "My name is Theognotus," he said, clasping his hands before him. "I seldom work with patients anymore, but having such an illustrious group from Eleusis is a rare pleasure. I'll hear your ailments and recommend treatment. We're terribly overcrowded, so you'll stay with me until your incubation, if that's required."

With that, he led them into the temple proper, where they stood before the gold and ivory statue of Asklepios. The god was seated upon a throne, a serpent in his right hand, his left resting on the head of a dog. The face of Asklepios projected calm, solemnity, and suffering. Melaina turned to her mother. "The physician from Kos," she said, "bears this likeness." She felt great affection for it.

Theognotus dropped to his knees before the altar and raised his arms. "Lord Asklepios, who dwells within dark Earth and heals the suffering of mortals, bring Health to these three holy suppliants, answer their pleas brought from far off Eleusis. Come to them in the days ahead, O savior! Grant your gift of vigorous existence, and they shall grace your sanctuary with an offering befitting your miracle."

Then Theognotus took them out behind the temple to a nearby stone building, his own home, where they entered a courtyard and talked amid dappled shadows of grapevine-covered trellises. "At this healing center," he said, "as with Eleusis, we serve the individual. Whosoever comes suffering the sores of nature, Asklepios delivers from diverse pain. Others, their limbs wounded by bright bronze or hurled stone, he tends with some kindly incantation or soothing julep, swathing limbs with simples. He restores some with the knife."

"Do you heal all who come?" asked Melaina.

"The rituals we priests prescribe only open the pathway for divine intervention. Asklepios provides treatment for each differently, refusing in some cases. So tell me your ailments. Perhaps Asklepios can relieve your suffering."

They then revealed their reasons for coming, first the two women in turn, but when it came to the Hierophant, he refused to speak before his daughter and granddaughter, pulling Theognotus to a far corner of the courtyard. They whispered quietly for a while, then returned, the Hierophant bracing himself with his staff.

Theognotus prescribed treatment. To Myrrhine, he said, "Many women come to us with barren wombs. Treatment requires a night of incubation in the Abaton, as does your daughter's epilepsy. But before you can incubate, you must fast for three days, nothing but clear barley broth, and bathe in the hot springs. Each morning our attendants will massage your flesh to relieve the physical toll your lives have placed there. Remember, Asklepios was first a mortal man. He died because of his sympathy for the human condition and was made a god so he might improve it. Sunrise is sacred here. The resurrecting light is anastasis of mortal life and reprises the luminous child. Our hope is that you experience the solemnity of Asklepios' sacred healing center and return home cured."

He rose and so did they. "Now, I'll get Udaeüs. He'll see you to your quarters."

Melaina stopped him. "Question, please. At the gate a sick man was turned away because he was dying. What good is a healing center unwilling to attend the most grievously ill?"

Her mother pinched her arm, but Theognotus was not fazed.

"Excellent question," he said. "I've been deficient in my orientation. Death is not permitted here, nor is birth. As a priestess you must be aware of the contamination of the passageway between this world and that of the immortals when life enters or exits. The purity of the facility must be preserved, even if it means refusing entry to those too hopeless for treatment. I regret that your first impression of the sanctuary was formed viewing this grim limitation."

His answer multiplied Melaina's questions, but another of her mother's pinches silenced her tongue. They turned to go then with Udaeüs in the lead, but the Hierophant seemed perplexed, perhaps a little exasperated.

"My condition?" the Hierophant asked, then swallowed deeply. "Can you fix it? Or am I doomed?"

"Oh, yes, we have a procedure," and for the first time Theognotus smiled, "but you won't get to dream your way through it. Afterward, however, dreams will blossom every night and won't stop though you will it with all your might."

*

Melaina had difficulty with the fast, finding the thin barley broth totally inadequate. She complained of nausea in the morning, but was refused anything to settle her stomach. She'd developed a ravenous appetite of late, possibly even put a little weight on her lanky frame. She started looking for a way around the fast, found the kitchen and snooped for leftovers until the servants caught her.

For a distraction, she dragged her mother out to the dormitories to visit other patients, many of whom had been injured during the battle of Salamis. The draining, festering wounds of some would not heal. That of one man emitted the putrid smell of gangrene, which helped rid Melaina of her appetite. She talked to a boy with no voice while he listened patiently. She visited with a man who had lost an eye, with only an empty socket remaining, and avoided another with a stone in his penis. She was patient while her mother consulted with several women who also had barren wombs. Melaina drew the line at a man who'd had a spear struck through both his eyes. He still carried the bronze tip within his face. She felt sorrow for his blindness, but witnessing his pain was more than she could bear.

The Hierophant went off to see Theognotus again but returned without satisfaction. "He told me I might undergo the procedure tomorrow. You have to stay after these priests, or they'll keep you here forever." His pain, as evidenced by a wincing restlessness while sitting and difficulty walking, had seemed to multiply daily. Melaina grew increasingly concerned about him, but neither he nor her mother would discuss it.

*

The following morning, Melaina decided that the light barley gruel, which at first she'd detested, gave off a delicious aroma and even asked, but was refused, seconds. Theognotus caught her with earth on her mouth and touching ashes from the sacrificial hearth to her tongue. He ejected her with a laugh. She particularly enjoyed the thermal spring that came from the depths of Earth, and bathed lavishly in the nude with her mother and other women. They were told that all the water at Epidaurus was sacred due to it being sent up from the ground by Asklepios himself. Afterward, large muscular women massaged and generously splashed the two priestesses with olive oil. Melaina felt rested but limp, even stumbled about, her legs so relaxed they refused to carry her weight.

To pass the time, the two women and Hierophant visited the inscriptions, left by grateful patients, just outside the Abaton. Melaina found them interesting. "Here's a curious one," she said standing before a large plastered plank with a detailed account of a cure scratched across its surface. She read aloud.

Kleo was pregnant for five years. After the fifth year of pregnancy, she came as a supplicant to the god and slept in the Abaton. As soon as she had left it and was outside the sacred area, she gave birth to a son who, as soon as he was born, washed himself at the fountain and walked about with his mother. After this success...

Melaina was laughing so hard she broke off reading. "Why have you brought me here? This place is a sham!"

"Hush!" said her mother. "Shame on you! You're here but two days and ready to close the place. Until you can relieve suffering yourself, don't criticize the efforts of others."

"But mother...five years?"

Myrrhine pushed Melaina along. "Don't upset your grandfather with your insolence."

*

That night, Melaina couldn't sleep. She left her mother and crept through the dark into the temple to see Asklepios' solemn face. She'd fallen in love with the image. Such great sympathy, such suffering in the eyes. She stood before it, reaching to touch the bearded chin, when she heard a noise, perhaps a sigh. In a dark corner of the chamber lurked the outline of blind Udaeüs.

"The little priestess from Eleusis," he said.

"So you can see after all."

"Just good at reading the patter of footsteps. Rarely do I hear anyone so light on their feet."

"You eavesdrop here all night?"

"Tell me of the epilepsy," he said. "Do your seizures bring prophecy?"

His directness startled her. "So some believe. It's but my illness sending visions."

"Diviner's disease. I thought so. It's no boon to see the future. Fools, those who practice the soothsayer's art."

"I'd not choose it for myself. It comes unbidden."

"A gift, some would say. I say, a pity."

"Both, as is the gift of life."

"Ah, but seers are a useless lot."

"And I might question a guide who cannot lead. What good are you?"

He feigned great offense. "Sometimes I have luck with the weather."

"As can a peasant."

"Do you read entrails?"

"I've great interest in the future, having read grandfather's scrolls of Sibylline oracles. But I've no learning in animal innards," she said, "no real knowledge in any form of prophecy. One would have to go to Delphi."

"Follow me," he said, and felt his way along the wall to the door, banging with his cornel stick. "Take my hand," he said, and she led him out into the dark. "To the top of the hill," he ordered. When they were there, "Behold!" he said, "the heavens above and earth below. Point me northward."

Melaina turned him to face Arktos, the Great Bear.

"Both heaven and earth are quartered," he said, stretching out his arms to feel the wind. "Events occurring on the left are calamitous, on the right propitious."

They labored there on the hilltop for some time, Udaeüs explaining each quarter, dividing the quarters again and further dividing, marking segments for the meticulous observation of lightning. "Each of the gods has a direction." He also revealed which of the crook-taloned and ravening birds the gods marked as auspicious, which sinister omens of bird-flight.

"I thought you were to teach me entrails," she said. "It's a great mystery I've often wondered about."

"As you wish," Udaeüs said and had her lead him down the slope through the dark to a sacred holding pen. There he cornered a lamb, put it under his arm, and they stumbled back to the temple. He stood before Asklepios, said a solemn prayer and slit the lamb's throat over the slaughter stone. Melaina screamed spontaneously for the sacrifice. After blood darkened the altar, the blind man laid the lamb on the stone floor, slit the abdomen up to the breastbone, scarred it, laid aside the knife, and broke open the chest cavity. All this he did by feeling, his fingers doing the work for his eyes.

Udaeüs called her to him, had Melaina take hold the slippery vitals, cut loose the liver. "Hold it so the gall points down, large lobe away. Note the division across the middle?"

She said she did.

"That marks the division of north and south. Now turn it over, keeping the large lobe away. All that is visible there is but a reflection of the vault of heaven," he said. "The celestial divisions I taught you on the hilltop are reflected in the liver. All quarterings have the same import."

Then he taught her liver scrutiny as one with authority, as one who knows how to read shape, dappled smoothness, gall-hues that mark the god's pleasure, the speckled symmetry of the liver lobe.

"How can you know these things?" she asked. "Being blind."

"I was a seer before I lost my sight," he said. "I've suffered all the bitter woes of the seer trade."

"Teiresias was a seer after becoming blind."

"Ah, yes!" he said. "External blindness, internal sight. But Athena washed his ears in recompense, so he could understand the language of birds. We can't all be so blessed."

"I suppose Athena took your eyesight because you saw her naked, as she did Teiresias?"

"A Persian gouged them out with his thumb and exiled me from Kolophon for insolence against King Xerxes."

"I'm sorry. I've misjudged you. I've become overly sensitive and suspicious. The seizures make me quarrelsome."

"No matter. Again, view the liver."

Late into the night they bent over the animals as they brought sacrifice after sacrifice. Even as the glow of sunrise rose in the east, he sorted the diverse paths of prophecy, describing among dreams, which are fulfilled, which not. He taught her the reading of savor-wrapped thighbone and tapering chine, the face of flame.

Thus, Melaina came to know the art of prophecy, but as morning broke, so she worried, and knew she must return to her mother.

Udaeüs had a further word. He took her by the shoulder and spoke before her as if his dark empty sockets could see deep into her. "Remember this well, young lady. Prophecy is an unruly art. Zeus delivers utterances incomplete, reveals only half the truth.

Melaina interrupted him. "That explains it. On our way here, we were waylaid by a band of Persians. I had a seizure with a vision of great battles, but nothing of the outcome. Yet I saw Athena side with Hellas and Aries with Persia."

Udaeüs became quiet and seemed to look off into space with his eye sockets. "Do not encourage these beggars who desire to know the future. It'll bring nothing but trouble."

"Oh, but it's irresistible! And they crave knowledge of the visions as would a starving man for table dainties."

"Run from these people. Practice your gift only when cornered. What you know is burdensome. Teiresias thought it dreadful to have knowledge not benefiting the knower, for surely knowledge does not change the future once set by the Fates. It'll bring you fame but not love. If you should announce an adverse answer, you make yourself disliked by those who seek you. If from pity you deceive, you provoke Heaven. Apollo should be man's only prophet."

*

Melaina's head had barely touched the pillow when her mother woke her. She felt lightheaded and giddy. "If they don't feed me soon, I'll be hallucinating," she said.

Late that afternoon, following baths in the hot springs and olive-oil massages, Theognotus visited the trio again. "Today completes your fast," he told Melaina and her mother with his hands clasped before him as was his custom when addressing them. "We must prepare the two of you for tonight's incubation. The Hierophant," he looked at him out the corner of his eye, "will undergo his ordeal later."

The Hierophant's face turned sour at the prospect of another uneventful day. "My suffering means nothing to you," he said.

Theognotus, unperturbed, turned his attention to the women.

"Is dreaming necessary for a cure?" asked Melaina.

"But of course."

"I have troubled sleep of late, if I do at all," she said. "My dreams are frightening, horrid. Perhaps the cure will not work for me."

"A skeptic!" His impish face beamed approval. "Asklepios enjoys a challenge. Many with epilepsy, and the melancholy temperament accompanying it, have come to us. We've been quite successful, perhaps because sleep is a little like epilepsy. For many, the malady begins during sleep. Have you had seizures while slumbering?"

"I've wondered but never been sure."

"Yes, many," Myrrhine blurted out.

"Mother! Why didn't you tell me?"

"A good sign, for that will put the problem directly up against Asklepios. Provided, of course, we can get you to sleep at all," said Theognotus. He was silent for a moment, appearing more concerned than Melaina would have thought.

"Is my situation impossible?" she asked.

"Of course not," he said, "I've been talking to Udaeüs about his teachings to you last night. He's never taken such an interest in a patient. Claims you have an extraordinary gift."

"What's this you've done?" asked her mother. "Escaped while I was asleep?"

"Please, mother! You know of my insomnia. I need to fill the hours."

Theognotus continued, "Udaeüs is a great seer. He chooses not to practice his craft and instead only teach. Yet, rarely will he accept a student. I won't be able to help with your insomnia and troubled dreams, but he might. The nature of dreams is such that they're sometimes no more than memories of the day's activities, but these remnants can be directed to become the seed wherefrom Asklepios' presence blossoms. Dreaming is a descent into the dark world of Hermes, and we can give you an experience to sow dreams."

"How?" asked Melaina.

"The Tholos. We have secret rites there that I can't reveal," he looked up at her grandfather, "even to a Hierophant. You'll not participate in those rites, but Udaeüs will take you with him when he performs his weekly ritual inside the Tholos. He'll tell you about it."

The Hierophant said, "I've wondered its purpose. It wasn't here a few years ago."

Theognotus looked up at him. "The Tholos is Asklepios' tomb and represents his dual nature: the aboveground portion, his life here on earth; that below, his life as a god."

"Which aspect will concern Melaina, just the above or also the below?"

"Enough!" said Theognotus. "I can reveal no more. Your preliminary days here are over. Prepare for treatment."

CHAPTER 21: Encounter with Asklepios

With the sun casting long shadows, Melaina and Theognotus left for the large circular building, the one that'd captured the Hierophant's curiosity from the time they arrived. The Tholos was adjacent the Abaton where the women would later undergo incubation. But first, Melaina and Theognostus stopped before a small building to the east that smelled like a barn. Inside, Melaina saw blind Udaeüs within a fenced enclosure, crawling on all fours. When she peered over the waist-high wall, she realized he chased white mice. Unaccountably, Theognotus scooped Melaina into his arms and set her over the wall, which had no gate.

Mice were not Melaina's favorite animals, being considered a nuisance at Eleusis because they spoiled the grain.

"Help me," said Udaeüs. "We need three."

Melaina chased the mice into a corner, caught each by the tail, lowering it into a leather pouch that Udaeüs held open for her. He then pulled the drawstring, took her hand and wrapped her fingers about the pouch.

"Now," he said, "we're off to the Tholos."

She led him to the circular building, up a stone ramp, and through a ring of Doric columns to a stone wall with a door that opened into a paved portico. When the priest opened the door, the growl of the hinges echoed in the dimly lit chamber. Another circle was inside the circular wall, this time of Corinthian columns, set about a floor with alternating patches of black limestone and brilliant-white marble in a spiral pattern. Melaina felt irresistibly drawn to the center of the room.

She'd expected the room to be empty, but a girls' chorus, each girl carrying a terracotta oil lamp, ringed it just inside the columns. The tiny flames sparkled in the girls' eyes and reflected off the marble walls and ceiling. Except for the soft shuffle of feet, the chamber was quiet. Udaeüs slammed and bolted the door behind them and walked to the center of the chamber, footsteps echoing. The chorus then began a wordless hymn, something from the ancient poet Olen, a celestial sound, ephemeral, haunting.

Udaeüs fumbled for, found, and lifted a trapdoor, then again requested Melaina's hand. "Illness is descent toward death," he said. "All cures point toward resurrection. With your Mysteries of Demeter, resurrection is in the Isle of the Blessed; with Asklepios, it's back to life on earth. You'll not be cured here, since this is but preparation for the dream world. You'll descend to feed the god and render him predisposed toward you."

She stepped into the black hole. "We're headed into darkness. Won't we need a lamp?"

"For a blind man?" he laughed. "No light is allowed below ground. You're entering my world. In the Mysteries, as the initiate approaches the dread goddess of the Underworld, Asklepios receives him first. At Epidaurus we don't go as far as the Mistress of the Undergloom."

Melaina wondered at his in-depth knowledge of the Mysteries, but didn't ask because she worried what would happen next. She pictured the suffering, kindly face of the icon with which she'd fallen in love. "At Eleusis we ascend, not descend," she said. "You want me to go into Asklepios' grave to meet the god in person?"

"He's seldom seen. Even then, he takes an earthly form, a serpent."

"What!" she exclaimed, backing out of the hole. "In underground darkness, I'll encounter a snake?"

Udaeüs was astonished at her. "A friendly one. You don't know? Always at Epidaurus, the god appears as a serpent."

"You treat me as all-knowing, yet, I'm barely fifteen. The mice I hold in this pouch frighten me. Surely I'm not one to meet a dragon underground."

Udaeüs leaned back, pursed his lips. "True, your spirit projects a more mature woman to a blind man. We'll go now, while you still have some semblance of courage."

He took the lead, stepped down through the hole and pulled her behind him by the hand. The passage was much tighter than Melaina imagined. Wooden steps were set between concentric stone rings, descending below ground. As the dim lamplight faded to blackness, so the voiceless chorus faded from hearing.

Udaeüs said, "Watch your head," just as she bumped her brow, then he pulled her through an opening in the circular wall. Circumnavigating, they ran into a dead end but entered another stone ring through another doorway. Again, they circumnavigated and entered yet another doorway.

Melaina said, "I feel as though I'm Theseus descending into the Labyrinth."

"An apt comparison. But this is the last chamber," he said, as they again encountered a brick wall. He turned loose of her hand. "Take the stool."

She fumbled, found a seat against the wall at the narrow walkway's end. "The darkness is disturbing," she said. The chamber's walls dripped, and the smell of moist earth hung thick in the air.

"To be blind is to exist at the threshold of the gods."

"Theognotus said that are you the only one to feed Asklepios."

"No other has the lineage. Remember? I'm a descendant of Manto and her father, Teiresias. Teiresias' heritage was from the Sparti at Thebes, the sown-men. When Kadmos came to Thebes, he killed a sacred dragon and sowed its teeth in the ground as one would wheat. From those teeth sprang the Sparti, my ancestors." His breath came rapidly, as from excitement. "Also, I receive prophecy from Apollo, who took over the temple of Earth at Delphi by slaying the she-dragon, Python. I'm charged to fulfill a debt to both."

"I'm beginning to see again," she said. "A bright light, growing brilliant."

"Let's feed the god quickly and return. You're being seduced by the world of the divine."

"Just a moment. It's a child! I hear the chorus again, even down here."

"Please, young mistress. Now you're frightening me. The pouch, please. Witnessing the divine is deadly."

"A divine child bathed in flame, surrounded by a chorus of Nereïds." Melaina loosed the string of the leather pouch, placed it against the ground and pushed out the squirming bodies. "I can see the white mice," she said. "They scintillate."

"Quickly!" he said. "The god already has them. Ascend!"

*

"What did I see then," she asked, on the way to the fountain.

"It is said, 'I sing of the Divine Glorious Child and great light of mortals, Asklepios.' I can't say with certainty, but that would seem the gist of it."

"I'd thought it was Dionysus," she said, "as it was a child."

"That's only natural for one versed in the Mysteries. The rites of Asklepios and Demeter are closely linked. In the end, all deities merge to one. All within mortals' perception is ultimately Zeus. What surprises me is that you saw the divine and lived to tell about it. To gaze upon an immortal is fatal."

"I always see them just before a seizure. Remember?"

"Most would say you're blessed. I say what a shame."

It was almost as dark outside as in the Tholos. The stars had come out. The slaves had already delivered the piglets, with which Melaina and Myrrhine were to bathe and then sacrifice. The mother and daughter stood in torchlight at the sacred spring just north of the Abaton.

"Asklepios sends up this water so we might purify ourselves before incubation," said Theognotus. Again, the Hierophant was excluded but had to pay the healing fee demanded by the sanctuary. His disposition clouded further. "Intolerable!" he said.

They sacrificed both pigs and sheep in the temple before Asklepios, then burned the swine whole upon the blazing pyre, as sparks trailed skyward into the deep night. Each fleece was stripped from the sheep for the women to sleep on.

After the sacrifices, Theognotus took them to the Abaton. "We'll separate you and your mother, she to the east end of the building, you to the west. During incubation, you must withdraw from mankind and surrender to the force within, meet the god halfway for naked, immediate healing."

The open-air dormitory was one long room, the open front formed of columns, the floor separated into individual stalls for each patient. Melaina felt a breeze blowing through the building. Heretofore, they'd been separated from the other patients because of their lofty, priestess positions, but now they were included among the masses. Melaina's fresh fleece had been wiped clean of blood, but it was still slick and slippery on the straw bedding. She placed it, bloody skin down, in the straw within her walled stall and lay upon the soft fur.

Theognotus put Melaina down to sleep himself. "I've done all I can for you," he said. "Now it's up to you and the god."

"Don't be disappointed if I can't sleep. I thank you for helping."

The priest left her alone, and she lay back on the fleece listening to the muffled voices of those who couldn't keep their mouths shut despite the injunction against talking. She heard a baby cry. She watched the moon set and the Pleiads. It was the middle of the night and still she lay awake. I've come to the darkness of suffering to see the sun-like healer, she thought, and still can't get beyond myself.

*

Melaina woke the next morning, refreshed and encouraged. She smiled and rolled over on her back, excited to talk to Theognotus. All her fears had been unwarranted. But the priest didn't appear as early as promised, and she was dressed and waiting, rolled sheepskin at her feet, when he entered followed by the Hierophant and Myrrhine.

He'd already read Myrrhine's dreams, and her mother looked devastated.

"Mother!" cried Melaina. "What happened?"

Myrrhine dropped to her knees before Melaina. "Continued disappointment," she said. "The god came to me but didn't cure my barrenness. He said I would have children, but not from my own womb, and that I would not raise them."

"I'm sorry. It's indeed a heartbreaking plight."

"Mine's an old complaint. The world has heard it too long. I'll get over it." She looked up at Melaina and managed a smile. "Now we must hear from you."

They gathered around, Theognotus' mood cloaked, expressionless.

Melaina's smile was irrepressible. "You were right!" she said. "I slept well, had only one dream."

"Aha!" he said.

"But," she added, holding his attention, "not what I expected."

"Just the dream," he encouraged, "I'll interpret. Make me earn your grandfather's drachmas." He clasped his hands before him.

"Well, the serpent came to me, as you said he might. He was going to touch me, black tongue flitting in and out, but someone stopped him. An intruder, not threatening to me or the serpent, but he interfered. He picked up the serpent just as it reached me."

The priest seemed at a loss. "The intruder, describe him."

"Oh, he was a fine young man, friendly, compassionate, hardly had a beard. His hair was in tresses, their masses falling upon the shoulders. He had a double row of locks on the forehead. The face was strong and broad, a stout chin. Strong, muscular, naked. He scooped the serpent into his arms lovingly. It coiled, writhed about his forearm."

"Anything further?"

Melaina thought, then remembered a last detail. "A stately stag stood behind him."

"Of course! Apollo, accompanied by his sister. The deer is an unmistakably sign of Artemis." He looked first at the Hierophant, then Myrrhine. "We've never had a patient visited by the father." He turned back. "Anything you haven't told us?"

She looked away sheepishly. "He kissed me, then walked off."

The priest jumped to his feet. "Extraordinary! A clear sign of this young woman's importance to the gods." He paced about wringing his hands. "I only wonder why Artemis appeared as a deer instead of in human form. A rebuff, I'd guess."

"But why did Asklepios not cure me?"

"Perhaps he did. Asklepios is only a representation of his father's healing power. Apollo's kiss may have done it. The interest the gods have taken in you should make your husband very proud."

"Oh, she's not married," responded Myrrhine. "She wishes to remain virgin."

"A little late for that," replied Theognotus. "She's pregnant."

"What!"

"I knew it the instant I first saw her, and thought that was why you worried so about the epilepsy. It complicates pregnancy considerably."

"No! No, I can't be," said Melaina. "It's not possible!"

"How long since you've had the flow?"

She was slow to answer. "Three months.... But that's due to the south wind. The physician said it could make my flow irregular."

The priest smiled. "But not absent entirely. Your abdomen is already distended. The greenness below your eyes, characteristic facial splotches, freckles. You said yourself, that you recently experienced sickness after rising."

"I just can't be."

"How about you eating ashes, and earth?"

"I was starving! The fast!"

"During pregnancy women are close to Gaia, Earth goddess. They've been plowed and seeded same as a field of grain, and so crave earth. "Did you lay with a man?"

Melaina looked at her mother knowing what the answer must be. "No," she said, but her denial hung in the air like a dark cloud. "At least, I don't believe I did."

"Oh, dear mother Demeter!" said Myrrhine.

"'Twas the last seizure I had at Eleusis. I thought it but a vision."

The Hierophant dropped to one knee before her. "Explain yourself, granddaughter. This is very important."

"The night before you brought the physician to examine me."

"At the winter solstice," added her grandfather.

Melaina's thoughts raced forward, calculating a strategy to omit the episode with Sophocles. "I was tired and went to bed early, didn't sleep well with the lightning and thunder, and woke with someone in the room, in bed with me." She realized how this sounded and raised her arms imploring them. "An apparition! I'm sure of it."

"A man?" asked the Hierophant.

"A vision. No not a vision, just the presence of a man. I was on the threshold of a seizure, and you know the confusion I suffer."

"No, I don't. Tell me," said Theognotus.

"I see the gods, see the world, as they do. It's crowded with people not really there."

Myrrhine spoke up. "I witnessed this seizure. So did the Hierophant. Remember?" she said turning to him.

"This is true," the Hierophant said to Theognotus. "Both of us walked into her room just as the seizure finished with her. She was in bed alone."

"At first, I thought some animal was under the covers with her, killing her," said Myrrhine. "But when I pulled them back, it was just Melaina, alone."

"That tells all," said Theognotius. "The gods evaporate before the eye. Great Zeus! She has a god for a husband! Her seizures are caused by divine possession."

"No!" cried Melaina. "It was a presence without substance. Nothing could come of it."

All the while she was wondering desperately if it had been Sophocles. Before, she'd wracked her memory out of curiosity, now the answer was crucial. She'd also wondered about Kallias. Could he have raped her? She didn't dare say any of this aloud. Slandering Sophocles would be intolerable, and she realized how her mother esteemed Kallias, though Melaina herself harbored a secret dislike of him.

She cried, "I am a virgin! Artemis is my life." Her face contorted. "I just can't be pregnant!"

"This masculine presence, what was his appearance, demeanor?" demanded Theognotus.

She spoke through tears. "I know nothing of his appearance. Except that he was bearded as are all men. Thick chest. But these I only sensed. I saw nothing. All was shrouded in Erebos, the lightless dark of the depths."

Theognotus turned to her mother. "What the woman sees during intercourse determines in part the appearance of the child," he said. "Women who view monkeys while conceiving have children resembling such both in body and soul. The darkness wiped her sight clean allowing the god to write only his own vision on the child." He questioned her again. "His actions. Was there nothing telling?"

Melaina's cheeks turned bright crimson, and she had to straighten herself to get the answer out, cleared her throat. "When he had his great pleasure, his warm seed flowed into my womb like liquid gold. I felt consumed by fire."

Theognotus remained quiet a moment, measuring the weight of her words. His response came in a whisper. "Those were the words of Perseus' mother when Zeus lay with her." He turned to Myrrhine again. "Your daughter carries a divine child. In the dream last night, Apollo kissed her. She belongs to him, as does the child, the pure seed of the god."

"Check her virginity," said the Hierophant. "If she's physically intact, she can't be pregnant."

"Unless it was a god," replied Theognotus. "But virginity can't be verified physically. Rumors of a thin membrane blocking the entrance to the vagina are not to be believed. I've questioned many midwives. The ones who believe it exists don't agree on the location. Some say it's at the entrance, some midway to the womb and others believe it's even further inside. Most deny its existence. Only the gods can determine virginity, and they've already spoken. She's with child."

The Hierophant's disposition grew grave. Melaina remembered her discussion of virginity with her mother and realized that she could be banished. This has gone too far, she thought. I've got to tell them about Sophocles. But what if it wasn't him? I really don't believe it was, more likely Kallias. He was the one prowling about that night, and Sophocles gave no hint of anything between us in the days following. Oh, it had to be just a phantom produced by the seizure. I must remain silent.

"Just think," said Theognotus, speaking to himself, "a divine conception! The sanctuary will be famous throughout the Mediterranean. We won't be able to keep patients away."

"How could the god do this to me?" asked Melaina.

The Hierophant summed it up. "The gods give us our lot in life, a yoke about our necks."

"Divine Artemis! Do not be angry or destroy me, but forgive. I acted unwillingly!" cried Melaina.

*

Melaina went to the small temple of Artemis beside that of Asklepios, cried long hard tears before the likeness of the goddess, but all her words seemed empty. "Virginity, virginity, where are you? Never again will you come to me, never again."

She went to her mother. Myrrhine was all smiles. "You'd stayed with that virginity business long enough anyway," she said. "I'll have grandchildren after all. Oh, the thrill of it!"

Trying to get her mind off herself, Melaina walked the sanctuary grounds listening to the miracles of other patients. The man with no eye dreamed that the god poured a drug into the empty socket. When he woke, his eye had been renewed. Even his wife couldn't believe it. "I know you have another orb," she said, "but can you see out of it?" The man with the stone in his penis had a dream in which he copulated, and it was ejected.

They spent the rest of the morning sacrificing a cock to Asklepios and awaiting the priest's plans for the Hierophant's unnamed ailment. Melaina sensed a rift coming with her grandfather, and she couldn't stand to be away from him, seeking him out that she might somehow make it right. If he turned against her, he might sell her into prostitution.

"How could this happen?" she asked. "Have I no freewill at all?"

"Those of us called by the gods have no freedom," the Hierophant said. "First wall against it is the body. The soul really is trapped within the flesh."

"The gods have played a trick on me," she said, "giving me this love of liberty but now taking it with a single stroke." She imagined Zeus having a great belly laugh.

*

That afternoon the Hierophant received word that his time had come.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Theognotus.

"By the gods!" answered the Hierophant. "What do I have to do to get treated?"

The Hierophant called the cure, "surgery," but Theognotus called it, "an initiation of sorts," even suggesting that all should undergo the "trial of the irons" once. Melaina took the priest literally and wondered if it was similar to initiation into the Mysteries.

The Hierophant left with the priest for a building outside the sacred glen, and when Myrrhine went down for a nap, Melaina became restless. She walked the grounds alone, and concern over her grandfather's condition caused her to circumnavigate the facility where the priest had taken him. Seeing others enter and exit, she peeked inside, then entered a long empty foyer. She smelled smoke and heard voices from a chamber at the foyer's far end. A female slave left smiling, greeted Melaina as she passed, and entered another room off the corridor. Melaina stepped into the doorway.

Melaina heard voices coming from a room at the end of the hall and peeked inside. It was exactly as she expected, not a surgical facility at all, as the Hierophant had suggested: no hot water or white bandages, no instruments for delicate incision, no prosthetics for limb replacement, no urns of herbs or jars of pungent oils, as she'd seen at Kleito's. She decided that the priest's description had been the more accurate. It wasn't a medical procedure at all, but some ancient rite appropriate to a Hierophant's station, perhaps one divinely inspired hundreds of years before when Kalchas of Megara had divined for Agamemnon's forces at Troy.

A group of men gathered about a circular hearth at the center of the room: Theognotus and her grandfather, who was nervous enough for his limbs to shake, and blind Udaeüs attending the fire as if he had eyes, plus seven burly assistants who seemed to have no function other than to witness the ceremony. Melaina watched Theognotus prepare a set of eight irons, as the blacksmith back at Eleusis might, placing them among coals until the tips glowed, then bending them flat as an obol at the ends. Reluctant to perform before, Theognotus now seemed to relish executing the ritual. Udaeüs boiled a fine broth of lentil and chickpeas on the fire, possibly a divine repast to be ingested during the rite.

Then she heard the name for this healing ceremony and felt bad about it, probably some secret word not to be uttered in the presence of women. "Haemorrhoids," said Theognotus, and Melaina felt sorry but could do nothing to redeem herself, the forbidden ceremonial key forever locked in her memory.

Theognotus laid the Hierophant on his back upon the table and gathered his tunic to the waist. The Hierophant muttered softly to himself, "two trials for every blessing" and "the soul trapped within the flesh," as Theognotus placed a pillow under the naked loins. The attendants then approached, one at the head, one at each arm and two at each leg. Smiling and chuckling they were, as if some pleasant reminder of their own initiation had passed before the mind's eye. They brought the Hierophant's knees to his chest as Theognotus, grabbing a glowing iron from the coals, said, "Shout so they'll pop from the anus like livid grapes."

The Hierophant sang while the attendants held him down, but not until she heard the hiss of hot iron against flesh did he reach full volume, his shriek ringing throughout the sanctuary and scaring Melaina's wits from her. "Louder!" shouted the priest while probing with the iron, the stench of seared tissue drifting about in smoke clouds. Copious sweat flowed from Melaina's brow, her own cry of dismay absorbed in the Hierophant's bellow. Her eyes remained glued on the priest as he brought iron after iron from the glowing coals to renew her grandfather's agony. Finally, the scorching complete, Udaeüs pounded smooth the lentil and chickpea soup and applied it as a plaster.

Melaina fled the scene.

CHAPTER 22: The War Machine

The priest at Epidaurus had been correct. After returning to Eleusis, the Hierophant complained of a constant stream of nightmares in which he again underwent the trial of the irons. Melaina had garnered all Theognotus' ministering instructions before they left Epidaurus, and when she heard her grandfather's late-night groaning, took his care upon herself, having, it would seem, unusual sympathy for his condition.

Seven days after he had suffered the irons, she cut a soft sponge six-fingers wide on a side and very thin, covered it with fine linen cut the same size, smeared it with honey and, placing the sweet-covered sponge over her index finger, shoved it up his anus as far as it would go and inserted a woollen plug. To apply a holding pressure, she tied a band round his flanks, ran two strips down the back, drew up the ends between the legs and tied it all at the navel. The contraption stayed in place for twenty days, being removed periodically for an excruciating evacuation followed by washing with hot water and new honey application. Once a day she fed him barley-meal gruel.

His appreciation of the pain she thus inflicted came in a stream of strained warblings, realizing that her soft touch was infinitely kinder than would be a rough slave's. His questioning of the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy weakened as his gratitude strengthened. At times, he muttered words such as "divine conception" and "consumed by fire," having achieved, it would seem, a little sympathy for her condition as well. When he again appeared in public, it was with a new zest for life. He'd given up walking with his staff. Never had anyone seen him hop about so.

Melaina's condition also improved, her abdomen gradually growing, her epilepsy again pronounced cured. She had no seizures, and since few knew she'd ever had the affliction, speculation turned solely to her divine pregnancy, word of which spread like wind waves across Demeter's wheat fields. Occasionally she heard snickers, but accepted the humiliation with the fame, since some came to Eleusis braving the hazards of Persian raiders solely for a glimpse of the maiden blessed beyond common mortals.

Melaina's condition reignited her mother's interest. She wouldn't leave Melaina alone, wishing to do this and that for her and filling Melaina with women's lore of a proper diet of neutral character. "Avoid garlic, onions, and leeks," her mother said, "and be wary of excesses, fright, or sudden joy. The child could become misshapen and of ignoble soul."

Not long after arriving home, Melaina wrote a letter to Keladeine at the Isthmus. She had to tell her about the baby. Would Keladeine understand? She wiped tears from the papyrus, smudging the lampblack.

Melaina developed an unusually powerful taste for pomegranates and frequently made her midday meal entirely of apples and pomegranate seeds, while sitting under the pomegranate tree in the courtyard outback and mulling over one of her grandfather's scrolls. She'd remembered her mother's words while telling the story of Asklepios at Epidaurus, that "all mortals who have a divine father also have a mortal one," and was still trying to reconcile the fact that she didn't believe she'd been visited by a mortal. She confirmed what Perseus' mother had said concerning the god's seed, that it was like the warm flow of liquid gold. But she just simply could not believe she was carrying a divine child.

Melaina remembered her promise to her father and became overly sensitive to the Persian menace. She stood atop the hill for hours, staring north along the road to Eleutherai and the shadowy slopes of Kithaeron, expecting to see the dust cloud and ant trail of troops spelling their doom. She heard her own fear in the frantic cry of birds, croak of frogs, and in the wind's rustling of oak leaves, the gentle tingle of pine needles. She felt more helpless than ever, but watched for a time when she'd be able to avenge her father. She felt the covenant grow stronger.

She seized on her grandfather's convalescence as an opportunity to again request he build a temple for Artemis. She talked to him in the library. "Artemis must have it because of the burning of Brauron. I'll need it to conduct my own graduation ceremonies here at Eleusis. We can't allow our girls to miss the rites of the virgin goddess."

"Wisely spoken," her grandfather said, "but how about the Mysteries? Have you totally abandoned them?"

"Oh, Grandfather, no! Demeter and Kore will always be dear to me. They are the soul of my existence. I was brought up on them. As a matter of fact, I've wanted to ask a question. Of late, I've experienced a need to be alone with my thoughts, yet have a powerful love for those around me, all Hellas for that matter. My teachings in the Mysteries spoke of a divine force holding Hellas together, and I've wondered about it and my remoteness. What binds us?"

"That force not only holds Hellas together but makes civilized life on earth possible. You've achieved what some never achieve, and those who do only in life's later years. Most mortals are witless, with their souls in the purse. You're destined for a different path. This fall, you must be initiated into the next level of the Mysteries. I can't divulge its significance now. This can only be revealed in the ceremony, but I will tell you that the soul has come from elsewhere and is always a fugitive, wandering by gods' decrees. You've uncovered your soul's detachment."

"Why can't you tell me more? No one will hear."

"Some things can't be spoken, not because they're forbidden, but because understanding isn't always achieved with words. Sometimes it comes through witnessing. So it is with the deepening mysteries of love, not those of the body, but the beauty of the soul and its longing for reunion with the gods. To experience this eternal oneness is to reach perfect virtue and be a friend of the divine."

Melaina let it go at that. She'd taken to watching the heavens of late, the stars wheeling above. Her stubborn insomnia, unprofitable sleep, and troubled dreams granted her time to relish the rising of the Pleiades, that fuzzy patch of stars embodying the seven daughters of Atlas. She liked to count the six visible and try to find the seventh, Merope, the nymph who married a mere mortal, and blushing from shame, paled from sight. With the rebirth of the Pleiades came the harvesting and threshing of Demeter's grain, slaves rustling about the well-rounded threshing floor. Shortly, following the first real heat, blustery winds brought the picking of peas, beans and lentils, the shearing of sheep.

Melaina, just at the time she first felt the baby move, heard that the king of Thessaly, Alexander, had come to Athens with an appeal to join Persia against Sparta and avoid a second invasion. She realized that this was a result of Mys's efforts. She hadn't discouraged him. Melaina listened quietly in the halls while her grandfather's deep voice wondered over these affairs and which direction the Athenian generals would take. Aeschylus came and went without speaking to her or her mother. Melaina wondered if he felt disappointment over her pregnancy. She heard Hipparete, her uncle's wife, complaining about Melaina's indiscretion and dismissing the rapidly expanding stories of a divine conception.

Kallias, however, spent more time than ever in Eleusis, and not all of it preparing for the Mysteries. He'd been snooping about the family home of late, and a problem had developed between him and the Hierophant. She'd never heard Kallias argue so heatedly, and wondered about her grandfather. Even with his newfound strength, he'd certainly be no match for the younger man if they came to blows. Kallias had won the pancratium in the Olympic Games a few years before. She'd caught her mother trying to overhear their arguments because they had something to do with Melaina's father.

Word finally came that Alexander had returned from Athens empty handed; this was followed by even more worrisome news. Mardonius had finally put the Persian forces on the move south out of Thessaly. When he reached Boeotia, the Athenians again evacuated to Salamis and Troezen, as they had the previous year. Melaina remembered her own frantic chariot ride with Kallias and worried at the poor souls again fleeing Attica with their belongings. Soon, Persians were again camped out in Athens.

Eleusis, in the stout grip of a rejuvenated Hierophant, stood firmly against evacuation, but Aeschylus was there to help those who were willing. This time he smiled when he confronted the Hierophant. "Evacuate! You're putting people's lives in jeopardy."

Melaina was in the room when Aeschylus arrived. The Hierophant had called her because, as he put it, her closeness to the Mistress of the Underworld bothered him. He'd just told her that he'd noticed several parallels between her life and that of the goddess. She'd listened, then thinking he was through, started to leave when Aeschylus arrived, but her grandfather stopped her with a touch of the arm. She stayed.

"No need for evacuation," the Hierophant replied to Aeschylus. "We'll whip the Persians before they get here. I was right last time. Besides, the Spartans are coming to our aid. Their army is on the march as we speak."

Kallias, who'd come with Aeschylus and had stood quietly by, finally spoke. "Not so, I'm afraid. They're celebrating the Hyakinthia and thinking of nothing but the god. The Sacred Objects must be evacuated. We can't allow them to fall into the hands of Persia."

The Hierophant shook him off. "I'll protect them with my own life, and won't allow them out where their sanctity could be violated. Rumors say Mardonius is repairing the damage done to Athens by Xerxes. Perhaps I was wrong about him. He seemed the evil force behind Xerxes. But when Mys, Mardonius' agent, captured us outside Epidaurus, he could have killed us. He showed great respect for us as sacred officials."

Melaina's thoughts were ever on the tip of her tongue. She'd had strong visions of the world in flames lately. "Would it not be an arrogance, grandfather, to imagine Eleusis immune to worldly dangers?" As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she wished she could retract them. The hurt in his eyes was unbearable. And fear, yes, she saw some of that too. She'd overstepped his trust of her, questioning his judgment in front of these men. Oh, if she'd only left when they'd arrived!

She departed her grandfather's chamber, feeling worse about herself than ever. She remembered her indiscretion at the Isthmus, how she'd embarrassed her uncle. Her habit of introspection had turned on her. She had too much time for it, and now thought she had the answer for everything.

She went immediately to the blacksmith. She'd been avoiding him the last couple of months, not wanting to see his disappointment at her pregnancy. But she knew Palaemon's disposition wasn't toward judgment.

The sun had already set, but a dull yellow glow clung to the sides of stone buildings. Eleusis had again filled with refugees, narrow streets and alleyways clogged with lean-tos and makeshift tents. The desperation in their drawn faces left a sense of hopelessness in Melaina.

She expected to see the smith shutting down for the evening, find him putting away his tongs, cooling fires. Instead the smithy was a volcano, spewing sparks and rumbling, flames of the tortured furnace rising to singe the air white-hot. Hissing clouds of steam billowed from the quenching trough.

Some believed that the fireballs of metal that occasionally fell from the sky were tears of the gods, that all metal was divine. She believed it now herself with what she knew of fire, it being the passage between the worlds of mortals and immortals. The smelter seemed a great birthing chamber of the gods, molten metals pouring there from Heaven's streams.

She heard the grumble of the blacksmith ordering about his two slaves, Akmon and Damnameneus, as they stoked the fire, their shadowed shapes eclipsing the glowing metal. Huge hammers flashed like lightning, rang like thunder. They seemed primordial beings beating a din to drown the birth screams of some great metallic demon taking shape in the flames, the breaths of bellows giving life to a glowing fire-beast. These brothers Melaina feared greatly. Rumor said they'd murdered a third brother years ago, wrapped his head in a purple robe and buried it at the foot of Mt. Olympus.

But the virility of the shop, the masculine, barely-controlled violence, struck flame to Melaina's feminine heart. Around the shop stood the smith's customers: warriors, farmers, and derelicts in rags who'd come to feel the great rhythm of the place, witness the dance of fire. Melaina started to turn back, thinking Palaemon too busy, but he caught sight of her and quickly brought her into his chamber. He made a soft place for her by throwing pillows over the stone couch.

"I've heard the gods have gotten more personal with you," he said.

"They've given me another trial alright. While at Epidaurus, I heard that the gods give two trials for every blessing."

Palaemon chuckled. "If we knew more of the gods' motives, I think we'd find only blessings. But tell me, are you happy?"

Melaina hadn't thought much about happiness. She had to smile, and a tear formed. "I've learned to love being pregnant," she said. "I'd thought all along that virginity and following Artemis was the most glorious path. But I've found great affection for the child growing inside me. How could I ever want anything else?" She fell silent. "Still, I don't have a husband. My baby will have no father."

"A trifle. None are deserving, or the gods would have given you to a man. Zeus himself would be proud. Many the mortal woman hath raised Hera's jealousy."

She felt so womanly in his presence, none of the little girl she'd been. She lowered her head, saw the brooch he'd given her on her breast. "I keep the golden eagle with me always. Arrogance flames forth so frequently, I feel unworthy of it."

"All human beings have arrogance. You've recognized yours very young. 'Tis the power of the words marked on the back."

"Though I view them frequently, I can make none of the sounds."

"The etchings work on the mind even with no comprehension."

"My greatest arrogance is belief that I can see the future."

"And well you might! Remember, Prometheus, Forethought himself, gave mortals the writing craft. The words scrawled on the brooch may have the power to unleash his gift of prophecy."

"But in a woman?"

"All prophets were once women. Even Prometheus received the gift from his mother, Themis."

"Is god-given prophecy an arrogance?"

"Prometheus wraps all his gifts in arrogance. When Zeus discovered Prometheus had such great love for mortals that he stole fire for us, Zeus roared with laughter, realizing the trail of new misery it would bring. Beware Prometheus' gifts!"

A commotion out front cut off their conversation. The squeal of children's voices broke the spell. Palaemon grabbed her hand, squeezed it. She loved his rough-stone hands, his smell of ashes.

They walked from his chamber into the smithy. A new horde had descended on Eleusis and drifted like moths to the strongest source of light, the glow of furnace fire. They were children, wide-eyed little boys and girls of eight, nine years, rushing about screaming like wild animals. Their near-naked bodies were dark with dirt and sun. She heard the rattle of shackles.

"Slave children from the silver miles of Laurium," the smith said.

"I'd not known. We have children in chains?"

"Yes. I saw them while there buying ore for the smelter. Themistocles used the silver of Laurium to finance the building of the fleet that defeated the Persians at Salamis. These kids descend into the depths, crawl through knee-high tunnels to retrieve the ore. They work day and night by light of oil lamps."

"Our salvation at Salamis came from the labor of children?" Melaina couldn't bear gazing upon the desperate cherub faces. "The hands and knees of these dirty, branded children have delivered Hellas from Persia?"

"They call themselves 'worms' because they tunnel the earth."

"They're divine then," she said. "They exist in both worlds, as does Asklepios."

Melaina turned from Palaemon to seek out the owner of the children, but they disappeared as quickly as they'd come, quicksilver before the eyes. They were off west to Megara, the Isthmus. Perhaps Keladeine will help them, she thought. She returned home, but with a stricken conscience. What price will the gods demand for this outrage? she wondered. And a new fear entered her heart. How perilous Greece's safety seemed, perched on the knife-edge of child slavery.

*

In the pink glow before dawn, Melaina saw the rebirth of the glittering Dog Star, Sirius, bringing the new year and the dog days of summer. The Athenians again sent for help from Sparta, but learned that Spartan troops were already on the move to the Isthmus. In spite of this, the Hierophant seemed agitated. He'd heard that the Persians had begun to burn Greek temples, and he reluctantly planned an escape for all of them in case things went sour.

Melaina continued classes for her circle of girls, but her stomach was greatly upset and even rejected fluids. She went to her mother. "Help me," she said. "If I don't keep down something soon, my baby will wither."

"When I was pregnant with you," her mother said, "Kleito was ready with a remedy at the slightest mention of a symptom." Her mother applied astringent embrocations made of freshly ground, unripe olives to Melaina's abdomen and bound it with wool. When that seemed not to help, she applied oil of roses mixed with saffron and pomegranate peel.

"At least this smells better," said Melaina.

As an aid to digestion, she gave Melaina a decoction of purslane, picking the tiny yellow-flowered plant from the garden according to Kleito's instructions, and tried to follow it with sweet Cretan wine, but Melaina protested. "Remember the physician's admonition against wine," she said.

While she suffered one of these bouts of nausea, Melaina asked her mother about arrogance. "Why is it so difficult for me?"

Her mother didn't answer right away, treating Melaina's question more seriously than she would have in times past.

"The blacksmith says arrogance is a deadly defect," Melaina said, "and virtually impossible to guard against. I've found it true. My mouth forever gets me into trouble."

Her mother smiled. "You enjoy these philosophical discussions, the play of ideas men esteem so. The solution to arrogance is within the world of women. Courage that produces arrogance must be woven with moderation that comes with introspection. The two work counter to each other and are the warp and woof of an elaborate fabric that forms the personality. It's the same with marriage. Weaving of feminine warp and masculine woof produces the fabric on which the couple embroiders their lives."

"You make it all seem so simple."

But Myrrhine had fallen silent, heavy thought wrinkling her brow, and Melaina went out to find her circle of friends. They'd been cut to only a few by the evacuation. Today she'd teach them to make themselves more desirable for marriage. She prompted them to concentrate on their looks. "Avoid working wool. It makes the hands hard," she said, and taught them how to apply a little rouge to the cheeks and bleach their tresses in a caustic wash until it was auburn, the preferred hair color. She taught them to construct the ever-fashionable psyche-knots and to plait and crimp the hair. She also warned of the manner with which prostitutes and courtesans wore clothing and fabricated the figure by use of padding. She shuddered to remember what she'd done in her own attempt to snare young Sophocles. "Never present a false front. Never resort to manipulation. Never set in motion what you can't control," she told them.

Melaina loved her days home with her mother. Each brought new movement from the baby, and her mother would feel the swelled abdomen, placing her warm palm against the stretched skin. When something startled Melaina, the baby also jumped. And Melaina would smile and wrap her arms around her abdomen when the baby quaked with tiny hiccups. In the mornings, Eleusis rang with songs of slave women grinding barley meal, and Melaina had taken to eating ripe figs directly from the tree.

One bright summer afternoon, Melaina took her circle of friends into the grass-covered fields across the sacred way that led eastward to Athens and west toward Megara. In the shade of a tall plane tree, they removed their sandals, formed a circle in grass spiced with thyme and bog myrtle, and picked heavy-scented lilies.

Melaina stopped to look at little Agido. How she'd grown in the last year, yet was still such a child. She'd inherited a chiton many sizes too big and frizzled by the wash. She reminded Melaina of the little Bears at Brauron. Agido's unconscious charm was Melaina's delight. Anaktoria was a slender sapling, her chiton a brilliant play of pleats, hair tightly curled. Aristocratic, dignified, that was Anaktoria. Melaina taught them manners, saying, "When anger wells up inside your breast, guard against a biting tongue," and "Wealth without sympathy is a frightful friend."

The noble-peaked landscape to the north towered above the circle of girls, and ever-changing clouds billowed, sailed with the wind, their dark shadows charging across the meadow where the girls plucked flowers in the lush meadow. Melaina had planned to teach them prayer but had put it off until she was sure she had it right, but they forced her hand now. "Teach us to commune with the divine," talkative Dorothea demanded.

Melaina smiled and thought this was probably her most important lesson. "Let you utter no wrong or complaining word, remembering that good speech starts with holy silence. The simplest prayer requires but a small glass of wine spread over sacred fire. First of all, speak the name of the deity, requesting that she hear you. Heap epithets one upon another and speak fulsome descriptions of the goddess' powers. This should be done with raised arms and upturned palms. Call her from her dwelling place that she might hear your plea. You must then tell her why you've inconvenienced her and that only she can help. State the problem quickly, succinctly, and be done with it. Never trouble the divine with trivial thoughts. After learning prayer structure, you can offer up variations and unusual themes."

"Compose one," said normally quiet Euphemia.

"One to gladden our hearts," added Agido.

They were standing in the Rarian meadow beside the river Kephisos, the first field ever sown with wheat, glorious Helios beaming down on the deep-bosomed daughters of Eleusis. Melaina thought perhaps a prayer to the Muses would be appropriate. She composed on the spot, knowing it less than inspired, and formed them into a chorus. "A chorus is the loom of society," she told them. "With dancing and singing we weave the fabric of civilization." She spoke the words once that they might repeat them, and then they all held hands, danced and sang.

"Polymnia, daughter of Mnemosyne and lightning-throwing Zeus, sweet song-addicted, lovely-haired spirit of many hymns, who haunts the misty slopes of Helikon with your eight sisters. Come to us here in the dusty fields of Eleusis. Give us the divine art of prayer that we might better serve the ancient gods on Olympus."

They finished the prayer, twirled and stopped, their laughter ringing. Melaina spotted a yellow narcissus, beautiful, wonderfully radiant, awesome. She bent to pick it, reached out both hands for the sweet-smelling bloom glowing in the orange sunset, when she heard a noise. Startled, she thought a visitor had come among them. But the shout had panicked the girls, and Melaina looked behind her to see a band of men rounding the hilltop, dark men strangely dressed, one's shrill voice rising in a heart-ripping screech.

From the west they came, rounding the crests of hills, sloshing through the waters of the Kephisos, hordes of men on horseback and on foot, a charging mass of humanity with an inhuman thirst for blood. The people of Eleusis scattered before them, some west along the plane, others north to seek the safety of the mountains, and those closest to the city streaked for the safety of stone walls.

Melaina ran after her screaming girls, ran though her swelled abdomen wouldn't allow it. She heard horses' hooves thunder behind as she slowed and stopped, fearing she'd lose the child. Arrows whistled about her, and a spear lodged in the ground at her feet. She smelled smoke from the torches that would soon burn Eleusis, her home. A war machine, a great mechanical monster for crashing gates, rose above the hilltop. As the host of Persians descended upon her, intent on its prey, a great team of horses drew alongside, and all her sight turned dark. Erebos had blacked her mind. "Save me!" she screamed with all her might, screamed again, but knew not for whom she was screaming. She heard a shriek at her ear.

"Father!" she cried, "O dear Lord Kynegeiros, save my unborn child!"

CHAPTER 23: The Burning of Eleusis

Myrrhine had left her housemaids and gone to watch Melaina and her girls cross the road. She saw them settle down on the hillside beneath the plane tree, along the bank of the cold, swift-running water of the Kephisos. Myrrhine had turned away, deciding they were safe. This was another of Melaina's favorite places, but one Myrrhine despised because Demeter's daughter had been kidnapped there. Myrrhine had been more vigilant lately, not letting Melaina out of her sight. Her daughter's abdomen was so large that a seizure now could injure her or the baby, and Myrrhine had little faith in the supposed healing at Epidaurus. But the invasion no longer seemed such a threat; last word had the Persians retreating from Attica, and the Spartans had been seen at the Isthmus with a small contingent on their way to Eleusis to bolster their own troops. She hadn't felt such relief in over a year.

The scorching heat was beginning to subside as sundown approached. Myrrhine's first indication that something was wrong came from dogs barking in the distance. She wondered if someone's sheep or goats had gotten loose. Sundown spooked animals. Myrrhine thought how proud she was of Melaina teaching her little circle of friends. Several mothers had changed their minds about Melaina because of their daughters' enthusiasm for learning, and they had made favorable comments to Myrrhine. Now, Myrrhine heard the sound of horses' hooves, and thought they were probably from Aeschylus' strong steed. He frequently charged through the city gates with news for the Hierophant and other city officials.

Just as she reached the city gate, Myrrhine heard the first scream. Horses they were, but not those of Greece. Persians sprang as if from the earth, shield-laden, rapiers rattling. The Persian cavalry came by storm, fearful to behold, and with the infantry in hot pursuit. Myrrhine panicked, fell into confusion and turned toward safety. Then, remembering her pregnant daughter in the path of the deadly charge, she turned back to save Melaina, realized the futility, and turned homeward again. She'd only taken a step when she heard Melaina's scream, her frantic plea to her long-dead father. Back Myrrhine ran toward the Persian onslaught, vowing to die with her daughter in her arms. Melaina was now obscured from view by the raging torrent of grim death descending on them.

Myrrhine felt an arm take hold of her. Aeschylus pulled her from the road, back through the city gates, and inside the stone walls.

"Melaina!" she screamed, hearing the gates thud to and clank behind her as the bolts shot home.

"To the docks!" cried Aeschylus. "Leave Melaina to us."

Myrrhine fled back into the city, past the Kallichoron Well where local women gathered to draw water and gossip. "Persians!" she shouted. "To your homes and children!" But Myrrhine couldn't force herself to the docks. From the propylaea, she ran to the Telesterion, the stone walls deep in shadow from the encroaching darkness. Searching frantically for the Hierophant, she found him running toward her, shield and sword in hand, and several more officials with him.

"To the boats!" she shouted. "Save yourselves!"

"Never!" he cried, flinging off his robe. "I go the way of Eleusis."

A stout arm grabbed Myrrhine from behind. She screamed, thinking it a Persian, but saw that it was young Sophocles.

"Follow me!" he shouted.

"No! Melaina!"

Persian shouts and the thunder of many feet swept her words away. Her father and the other sacred officials stepped forward to join soldiers manning the walls. Densely massed, they blocked the closed entryway. But brandishing two-edged axes, the Persians smote the wood doors through and off their hinges, hewed a hole in the stubborn oak beam, and breached the stone wall.

Sophocles jerked Myrrhine back from the action. They fled the temple, up the incline, and past the Cave of Hades to the hilltop overlooking the city. Myrrhine stopped to catch her breath and looked north to where she'd last seen Melaina. The air was filled with savage cries, women's plaints, and wailing. This way and that the people of Eleusis flew, some to the ships, some clambering west through the streets, all hoping to outrun the onslaught. From within the stone walls, the bewildered cries of children came, along with the shouts of husbands and fathers going rapidly to their deaths.

Myrrhine heard a loud pounding, the quick blows of a battering ram. Smoke from every quarter rose, black belching clouds laced with crimson quivering tongues. Persians spread like ravening wolves in a black mist. The myrtle grove rose in flame. The enemy drove from their pins sheep and goats, squealing pigs, cows, bawling calves.

Sophocles held fast to Myrrhine's arm, dragged her down the hill and along the street to the docks where the hordes were crowding aboard ships. She was crying now, burning grief gripping her throat.

The last boat pushed off as the first Persians descended upon them. Several soldiers rushed to their aid, but she realized Sophocles was no longer beside her. She ran to the water's edge, wondering if he'd boarded without her, but spotted him dragging a fishing boat from its storage hut. Myrrhine helped him pull it to the water's edge and climbed inside. Too late. Two Persians were upon them. Sophocles drew his sword and turned his rage on one. An arrow from some unseen bow took the other.

Now they huddled in the boat, young Sophocles madly rowing out of range of the whistling missiles. The boat pitched and swayed in the light surf, but Myrrhine's eyes remained glued on shore, hope of her father and Aeschylus escaping certain death dissipating in the gathering darkness. Once beyond any arrow's arc, she bid Sophocles stop rowing. "Wait for survivors. Perhaps someone will swim out to us."

No one came, though they waited as the sunlight failed, the landscape lit anew by towering flames. She studied the shore, memorizing every feature. She saw only Persians scouring the beach.

The other boats rowed on to Salamis, leaving Myrrhine and Sophocles alone, bobbing amongst the waves. Many times Myrrhine had witnessed her daughter's regard for Sophocles. She was surprised at how well, in spite of his youth, he'd acquitted himself against the Persian warrior. Then again, he was a veteran of the battle of Salamis.

A trireme came alongside, and the crew pulled them and their small boat aboard. Myrrhine recognized the captain as the Athenian general at the Isthmus, Kimon, who'd felt such affection for Melaina.

Myrrhine went to him. "Save my daughter," she begged, "set ashore your warriors. Save the daughter of Kynegeiros. The Persians have her."

"Eyie!" he said, raising his arm and sweeping the horizon to the east.

Myrrhine hadn't noticed anything but Eleusis burning. With the gesture, Kimon revealed the burning grain fields of the Thriasian Plain, Apollo's temple at Daphni in flames, and to the southeast, a new sun rising, the great conflagration consuming Athens.

Myrrhine paced the deck, speaking rapidly and to no one. She castigated herself for letting Melaina out of her sight. How could she possibly have let her beyond the city gates? If Melaina had been with her, Sophocles would have saved them both.

The trireme sailed unmolested southwest along the coast. Myrrhine stood alongside Kimon and Sophocles, judging Persian progress by the traveling wave of fire. They picked up survivors, some in small boats, and others who'd swum out to sea to drown rather than face the barbarian onslaught. The deck swelled with frightened refugees.

As the night labored away the hours, the trireme negotiated the zigzag strait of Megara, then turned west along the coastal town that centuries before had been the home of Kalchas, seer with the Greek forces at Troy. Soon Megara also cast the bright glow of flames out over the dark waters. Megara was the last city to burn. The wave of flame stopped there, and as suddenly as they'd come, the Persians turned about, retreated. The roar of the army faded as it swept back east.

"A foolhardy idea anyway," said Kimon. "Persia would have paid a more terrible price at the narrows of the Scironian Way than at Thermopylae. It would have cost them the war."

The trireme also turned about, renegotiated the strait, and came opposite Eleusis again as the sky lightened in the east. The flames had died to a glow, smoke no longer billowing, but now a rising mist of darkened hopes. As the pink glow of dawn revealed a smoke-burdened sky and the last of the Persian menace in the Thriasian Plain, Kimon ordered the ship in close to dock and put ashore an armed contingent to gauge their security should they decide to return.

A shout went up from those onboard when the troops reappeared with two survivors. Myrrhine's heart leapt seeing one was a girl, but it fell when she realized it was not Melaina's pregnant shape. It was Agido. But the dejected, battle-beaten man beside her was Aeschylus.

Myrrhine was the first off the trireme. Agido ran to her arms, and Myrrhine hugged her as if she were her own daughter. She knew how Melaina loved the little girl. But Agido couldn't tell what had happened to Melaina.

"She's lost her voice," said Aeschylus. "We survived hiding in the blacksmith's shop." Shame cut him short. "I didn't want to die. If I were a Spartan, they'd stone me." Then he spoke to Myrrhine's great fear. "We've seen nothing of Melaina, and Zakorus didn't make it." Aeschylus had already reverted to the Hierophant's given name, as was the custom once he no longer occupied the sacred office. "He fell during fierce fighting in the temple."

From the hilltop, Myrrhine surveyed the smoldering ruins of Eleusis. Heap upon heap of ashes, the strewn dead, the many shapes of sorrow. The blacksmith's shop was the only building still standing, Palaemon himself alive and well, said Aeschylus. They walked in the heat of glowing coals to his shop, but he refused to talk, instead working the bellows so that flames hissed and metal glowed white hot. He'd managed to save his wagon and two mules by tying them inside the smithy. Akmon and Damnameneus had also survived.

Aeschylus told a strange story of how the smith, when he saw the Persians coming, fueled the flames of his furnaces with wretched turkey wood, so the coals danced about sending sparks high into the air. He lit fires in all the smelters and pranced around them, agile as a deer upon his withered legs, waving his arms as might some gangly beast. The Persians, thinking he was an Underworld daemon or perhaps Hephaestus himself, refused to enter the smithy.

"First I've known my deformity to be a blessing," said Palaemon. "Still, it's no boon to remain untouched with your village in ruins and mistress Melaina, bright star of all Eleusis, missing."

Flames still rose from Myrrhine's home. The stone walls had been toppled from their foundations, gardens scorched, slaves gone. Melaina's chamber was strangely vacant, but there were no ashes of the ancient chest, no fused puddle of metal from the hidden cache of coins, no embers of rugs or robes. "The Persians plundered it," Myrrhine said.

Charred remains filled her own chamber, flames still flickering and coals aglow. She stood inside the entry, though the heat flushed her cheeks and smoke burned her eyes and throat. All her possessions, including her dowry, were in ashes. She scraped free pieces of her sacred robes, still wondering at the ashes in her chamber but none in Melaina's.

They hurried to the Telesterion where the columns had been pulled down. The large beams of the collapsed roof still smoldered. Picking apart rubble, Sophocles and Aeschylus went before her to the Anaktoron, Holiest of Holies. It was flattened to the floor and contained no sign of the Sacred Objects so crucial to the Mysteries. They found the smoldering bones of Myrrhine's father with charred pieces of his robe.

"He made his stand here," said Aeschylus.

"As I knew he would," she said. "He'd never allow the Sacred Objects in the hands of barbarians while still alive."

They crossed the Sacred Way to the grass-covered fields where Melaina and her girls had sat encircled beneath the plane tree. There she found the lone traces of her daughter, Melaina's sandals. She grabbed them and held them to her breast. She showed Agido.

Agido cried, grabbed Myrrhine and buried her face in her breast. She spoke her first words. "I ran, but she couldn't. I'm so ashamed!"

"Oh, little Agido!" Myrrhine squeezed her, looked into her eyes. Swift-footed Agido was the only girl of Melaina's circle to reach safety. "If you'd stayed behind, you couldn't have helped her and would've only been taken yourself,."

Myrrhine turned to Aeschylus. "Is Melaina still alive?"

"If they know who she is. She'll make some rich Persian a prestigious concubine; her child will become a valuable slave. She may already be on the way to Sardis or Susa."

"Retrieve her! She must be saved." But she realized that Sardis was deep in Asia, Susa in Persia, close to the world's edge.

Aeschylus threw up his arms. "Your husband has been dead ten years at the hands of Persians, your father freshly killed because of his own idiocy, and you want me to charge into the jaws of death." He walked off.

"She's your brother's daughter."

"I must return to Athens, assess the damage to my residence there, and relocate my family from Salamis. Turn to those who had the sense to evacuate." He walked off muttering to himself, "Chase after Persians? Incurably foolish!"

Sophocles made no move to go with him.

Aeschylus looked back. "Coming?"

Sophocles spoke to Myrrhine. "I too must go. My invalid father should be taken home to Kolonus. His health weighs heavily on me."

"Thank you, Sophocles. You saved my life and have always been a true friend to Melaina."

"Would that I'd been here to save her."

Myrrhine panicked at the sight of them leaving. She missed Kynegeiros terribly. "Oh for a husband!" she shouted after them.

Myrrhine calmed a bit, realizing that Aeschylus leaving was for the best. He would only stop her from doing what she must. Somewhere within Greece, Melaina was still alive. She could believe nothing else. As the hurt found new strength, she fiercely held Agido to her and planned to retrieve Melaina herself.

She'd turn to the one man who'd be safe in the Persian camp.

CHAPTER 24: In the Persian Camp

Myrrhine again entered the ruins of the Telesterion, where she and Agido collected the Hierophant's relics. They would have to be buried, but she hadn't time now. She stuffed them in a sarcophagus beside her husband's tomb and said a prayer over them while worrying Melaina's epilepsy. Would her captors put Melaina to the knife if she had a seizure?

Myrrhine heard the laments of others returning from Salamis to sort through the dead and prepare funeral pyres. She took Agido to her burned-out home. One of the deceased was Agido's father, the sight of whose remains sent Agido into a new fit of hysteria. Agido had always been tied to her mother, and her only time away from home had been spent with Melaina. Now Agido's mother was missing and her father dead. The girl wrapped her arms around Myrrhine's neck in a death grip. Myrrhine hated to leave her in the hands of others at such a time. "I'll make it up to you later," she said.

She found the blacksmith, not at his bellows and anvil, but alone in his chamber, head between his knees. When she spoke to him, he came alert although she could tell he'd been crying.

Palaemon asked, "Any word of the little mistress?"

"Nothing."

"But for these withered limbs.... The gods have turned all Attica into a smelter. With this purification great things must follow. But oh, the misery!"

Myrrhine had never actually taken note of his deformity. She'd always thought that his legs were weak, but now realized that though they were small, they were perfect in form. Still, she wondered why his mother hadn't exposed him at birth as was customary with a deformed child.

"I've come to ask a favor," she said. "Take me to the Persian camp."

"Oh great Zeus! That'll not be safe for you, priestess. I could never defend you. Aeschylus is a great warrior. He could raise an army."

"No one could protect me behind enemy lines. I'll be honest with you. I've heard that the Persians fear your shape. In this instance, no army would be as powerful and provide safety as well as would your deformity. We'll bring back Melaina."

At this, he again dropped his head. Myrrhine watched large tears splash mud on the powdery floor. He said, "We'll take Akmon and Damnameneus."

She wasn't particularly excited about leaving behind his two giant workmen herself. In fact, she felt her first affinity for the brutes, but she knew their presence could spell death. "No. We must project weakness. They'd be provocative."

"If these spindly legs can be of use in such an undertaking, the years enduring them will have been worth it."

"The longer we wait, the less our chances of finding Melaina," she said. She remembered the hard thoughts her father had toward the Persian general. "Let's find out who this Mardonius really is, man or monster."

Myrrhine loaded the wagon with what food she could find in the rubble heaps while he harnessed the mules. She salvaged a sacred robe with one singed cuff that smelled ferociously of smoke. She decided, the better for effect.

Myrrhine spoke to scouts who were passing through Eleusis on their way the Isthmus with reconnaissance for the Spartan generals, and learned that Mardonius was evacuating Attica for Boeotia. She'd originally thought they'd find him in Athens but now knew the entire Persian army was retreating east, circling Mt. Parnes, and would eventually turn north to seek a strategic position for the coming land battle. She and the blacksmith would take the shortcut north along the foothills of Mt. Pateras and through the pass in the spurs of Kithaeron to hated Thebes. Traitorous Thebes would be the Persian stronghold.

As the sun once again dipped toward the horizon, they set off, Palaemon at the reins of the two mules, Myrrhine beside him in the wagon. They wouldn't get far before nightfall, but time was precious. They stopped at the first village in the foothills, on the banks of a branch of the Kephisos River. It appeared deserted at first, residents huddled in their homes and afraid to come forward until they knew the strangers were not Persian. Myrrhine took a room with a family, but the smith bedded down in the wagon.

That evening before sleep, Myrrhine stood outside in the dark watching the smoldering fires south at Eleusis and east at Athens, wondering where her daughter was spending the night, if she was alive. She worried over Melaina's pregnancy, the epilepsy. The gods have taken everything from me, Myrrhine thought, every joy turned to pain. Her husband had been killed at Marathon, and her father's charred remains were now in an undistinguished sarcophagus. The Mysteries could no longer be held. The sacred officials were dead, the Telesterion destroyed. Was it possible for Greece to survive without the Mysteries? She dipped her head and returned inside.

*

Long before sunrise, Myrrhine rose sleepless, dressed, and went to the wagon where she found Palaemon already harnessing the mules. All morning they negotiated the undulating hills until they crossed another shallow tributary of the Kephisos. They started the ascent of the spur of Kithaeron toward Eleutherai, the last settlement before the pass. On the other side they'd be in Boeotia, enemy territory.

The road was rough and devoid of travelers. Word of Persian bands on the loose had sent the entire countryside into hiding. The wagon started quaking when one spindle loosened and the wheel wobbled. Palaemon did what he could, and they limped on into Eleutherai, arriving in late afternoon.

The fort at Eleutherai was heavily manned and crowded with refugees. At one time, it had been on the boarder between Boeotia and Attica, but hatred of Thebes drove the inhabitants to align with Athens. Myrrhine spent the night in the temple of Hera while Palaemon worked on the wheel spindles at the local blacksmith's and then slept in the wagon.

That evening, Myrrhine stood atop the city walls listening to wild screams coming from the wooded hills. These were the slopes of Kithaeron, ancient abode of Dionysus, the twice-born god, where dark legends told of many infants who'd been exposed on its slopes. Baby Oedipus had been abandoned there but had been saved by a shepherd and returned years later to unknowingly kill his father and marry his mother. Female devotees of Dionysus, maenads, also roamed these slopes, engaging in orgiastic rituals during which they ripped apart live animals and devoured raw flesh.

Another scream sent a chill through her. Was it animal or human? Myrrhine returned to her chamber.

*

Early the next morning the blacksmith and priestess resumed their journey, mules laboring against the grade, digging in and straining against their harnesses. Finally, they rounded Oak Heads pass and pulled to the side of the roadway. From here, they could see along the road in both directions. To the south, they overlooked Eleusis and the Thriasian Plain, and saw smoke still rising from Attica, all friendly territory lying in the midst of its own decimation. Pale Mt. Hymettos loomed beyond Athens, where Myrrhine and Melaina were reunited at Kleito's home after Kallias had retrieved Melaina from Brauron. To the north, where they were headed, they overlooked the deme of Boeotia that had gone over to the Persians, including Thebes and Orchomenus, between which the Kopaic Basin, with its eel-infested swamplands, glinted in sunlight.

They descended the mountain, the smith applying the brake to the wagon wheel to restrain the mules from careening out of control. By mid-afternoon the terrain gradually flattened, and they could see across to the Asopus. There, to their surprise, the Persian army gathered. They'd not have to travel as far as Thebes after all. Mardonius had brought his troops west along the north bank, using the river for protection, and was now setting up camp between the river and Thebes. They passed the small villages of Erythrae and Hysiae, both of which had gone over to Persia. The residents of nearby Plataea to the west had fled to the hills rather than fight.

Myrrhine realized she was overlooking the field where the battle for all Greece would soon be fought. They'd be within the Persian camp by nightfall. Myrrhine had made up her mind to do whatever it took to retrieve her daughter. But first, she needed divine guidance.

Before they reached the river, she had Palaemon turn right onto a trail, and shortly, they came to an old temple of Eleusinian Demeter standing amongst a grove of trees: pine, mighty elms, pears, apples. Though it was late summer, a creek gushed down from the slopes of Kithaeron.

Palaemon pulled the wagon beside the creek and drew water. But Myrrhine refused to drink or freshen herself, pulled her fire-scarred robe about her, and entered the deserted temple. She wondered why it'd been abandoned. The wooden icon of Demeter had toppled to the floor and been shoved in a corner. It was now covered with dust and cobwebs.

Myrrhine sought the smith's help, and the two of them returned Demeter to her throne. The goddess was majestically draped in a double cloak with a mantle across her knees. She held poppies and wheat in her left hand, her right resting upon the arm of the throne. She wore a crown, and a veil draped the back of her head, falling upon her shoulders. Myrrhine recognized Demeter's characteristically benign brightness, the strong lines at the eyebrow, chin, and cheek, yet she seemed softer, gentler than Myrrhine had ever seen her. Myrrhine raised her arms before the icon.

"Demeter, greatly hail! Bountiful goddess who came to earth, I come to you in great need. Only you can understand my suffering. Never before have I fully comprehended your grief when Kore was ripped from your breast. Greatly I admonish myself for thinking I knew. My daughter, Melaina, has also disappeared, snatched from me by the same fell monsters, who burned your temple and destroyed your sacred Mysteries. Just beyond the Asopus, Persian hordes gather for even greater mischief. Give me strength to enter their camp and retrieve Melaina. In the past, you've come to my aid, returning Melaina to me when she was in great danger at Brauron. I beg you, see to her safe return once again, and never will I live on in safety while one of your temples burns."

Myrrhine returned to the wagon to find Palaemon waiting at the reins. They traveled back from where they'd come, rejoined the road north, and crossed Morea Bridge over the slow-flowing Asopus. Now they were on the main road to Thebes, with the sun falling behind Kithaeron, and casting a traveling shadow along the plains. The Persian cavalry met them, one man on a huge black horse wearing a hammered-bronze helmet.

"State your business," demanded the horseman in broken Greek.

Myrrhine was even more frightened than she'd imagined, being amongst the enemy's army. These were strange men indeed. They wore turbans, greaves and corselets, and carried bows of cornel wood, arrows without feathers. Some slung goatskins about their shoulders and wore hats stuck around with feathers. Others carried daggers and riphooks, practiced lasso throwing. She stiffened her resolve, knowing Melaina must be amongst them.

"Sacred business concerning Mardonius alone," Palaemon answered, rising from his seat to expose his deformity as he spoke. Those accompanying the horseman shouted in dismay and retreated a comfortable distance.

"And the woman?" asked the horseman.

"A sacred official from Eleusis."

The horseman called another alongside, and they spoke in a foreign tongue, then argued heatedly. The other retreated, and the horseman motioned for them to follow him.

They entered the Persian camp amidst great curiosity from the infantrymen, who were dressed in tiaras, embroidered tunics, and coats of fish-scale mail. These men carried light wicker shields, short spears, and powerful bows with quivers containing cane arrows. Daggers swung at their belts. Every man glittered with gold and had a covered carriage with his women and servants. Each had a donkey, horse, or camel.

Palaemon spoke quietly to Myrrhine. "Though they have great wealth and have all their comforts with them, Hellene armor is far superior. They've not made the breakthrough in forging tough metals. They must not even know how to beat a complete helmet from a single iron ingot. Look! They have wicker shields. Ours are bronze. It'll be no contest head-to-head."

The great multitude spread far into the distance. Torches, lamps, and campfires dotted hillsides. Myrrhine knew that most enemy troops had returned to Persia with Xerxes, yet it still looked, with this wide mixture of peoples, as though they'd brought their entire civilization. Shameless men-giants, turned tree haters, were everywhere within the nearby forests. With great double axes and hatchets, they rushed about Demeter's groves felling tall trees and laying waste all the shady glens in sight. Great stacks of timber lay about.

"Sacrilege!" Myrrhine said. "Have they no restraint?"

They were led past the slaughter area where men sacrificed camels, horses, oxen, asses, deer, and smaller animals: ostriches, geese, and cocks. Rivulets of blood flowed into earth's creases and stood in deep puddles.

They approached a congregation of large tents, outside of which bakers and cooks swarmed over a conflagration rising from the outdoor kitchen. As the two became visible in the great light of the cook's fire, the crowd, seeing Palaemon's misshapen form, stood aside. A guard stepped into their path, accosted their escort in the foreign tongue and then brushed him aside, and addressed the two directly.

Myrrhine spoke no Persian and wondered if this would be their undoing, but Palaemon spoke up, guttural sounds pouring so naturally from his mouth that it frightened Myrrhine. Then she remembered that he'd lived under Persian rule at Rhodes. But the guard grew angry, shouted at them, then cracked his mighty whip over the heads of the mules, sending them into panic.

Palaemon regained control of the beasts and drove them back from the crowd. Myrrhine feared that she and Palaemon would not even have the chance to request an audience with Mardonius. She climbed down from the wagon, took hold the reins of one mule, and walked the team back toward the center of camp.

Several men stood in her way. One stepped forward to shout in Greek, "Turn about or eat arrows!"

Myrrhine recognized clubfooted Hegesistratus, the diviner with Mys who'd waylaid them on the road to Epidaurus. After speaking, he turned his back to walk away. "Shoot them!" he said.

"Hegesistratus!" she called out, "do the gods taunt you with pain in your self-mutilated foot?"

He wheeled about to see who'd shouted his name, strained to see the face of the woman.

"Your hatred of Sparta drive you to traitorous acts?" she added.

"That and money. Mardonius pays well," he answered, but he was obviously confused and, by the slowness of his speech, Myrrhine knew he was trying to judge who would know so much of his history.

"Can he save you from Tartarus as well as poverty?"

"Who addresses me such? What woman speaks to any man so?"

"It is I, Myrrhine, priestess of Demeter at Eleusis, whom you met on the road to Epidaurus this past spring. You sought my daughter, who has the falling sickness. I've come to speak with Mardonius."

Hegesistratus swung into action, slandered the commander, then ordered him inside the tent. Shortly the man returned at a fast gait. "Mardonius will see the woman. Separate her from the daemon at the reigns of the mules. He's to come no closer."

Myrrhine stepped forward to walk with Hegesistratus and saw horses eating from an all-bronze manger. What riches, she thought. As she got closer, she realized she'd come during their evening meal. Some dined out of doors in full sight, others inside. When she reached the tent entrance, she saw that even those inside didn't eat in the presence of Mardonius, for he had two separate rooms. His advisors ate in one, and he in another accompanied by a chorus of his concubines who played the lyre and sang. He had a throne of white marble, embroidered hangings, and gorgeous decorations of silver and gold, couches inlaid with precious metals. Myrrhine wondered if he had aspirations of filling Xerxes' shoes someday.

Mardonius himself was of no remarkable appearance save his flame-colored robe strewn with gold beads, that and his assurance of manner. Standing before this man, who'd caused the devastation of all Attica and burned her beloved Eleusis, she still, by virtue of her mission, stoutly refused to be intimidated. His attendant eunuchs smelled freshly bathed and were dressed in white. The tent floor was covered with beautifully designed carpets containing miniature figures of Persian heroes. Tables were furnished with cups and mixing bowls of silver and gold. Upon the fire burned the spine and gallbladder of some animal.

Mardonius left her standing alongside Hegesistratus and continued his meal, laughing over a lyric sung by one of his concubines. The table glistened under rays of high-swinging lamps that lit tempting lures for the palate: cruets of wine, snowy-topped barley-cakes, wheat loaves. She saw steaming kettles of what she supposed to be rich shark, stingray or squid, polyps with soft tentacles turned black by inky cuttlefish secretions, glistening eels.

While Myrrhine waited to be addressed by this great Persian, cousin and brother-in-law to Xerxes himself, his slaves served flower-leaved cakes and spiced confections, frosted puff-cakes. Last came slices of steaming tunny carved from the meaty belly, intestines of swine, and a rump with hot dumplings.

A slave finally brought a chair to the table and Mardonius motioned for her to sit, but Myrrhine stood silent as they partook of the meal. She'd not eaten since the Persians burned Eleusis and had vowed not to eat again until she found Melaina. She seemed to gain strength from her fast. Before the chair meant for her, the slave set meat-ends with skin-white ribs, snouts, feet, and tenderloin spiced with silphium, the split head of a kid, brain steaming. All of which she refused, still standing.

When Mardonius finished eating, slave boys removed the plates and bowls, then poured water over his hands. Hegesistratus walked to his side and mumbled in his ear. Mardonius looked toward Myrrhine, and surprisingly, addressed her in Greek.

"Declare your mission. If you won't eat, at least tell your mind."

Myrrhine had planned to fall at Mardonius' knees and beg him to return Melaina, but so offended was she at the sight of the felled trees and excesses in camp that she couldn't restrain her anger. It was immediately apparent to her that she'd never gain her daughter's freedom from a position of weakness, and resolved not to tell him her mission right off.

"All Boeotia is a great center for Demeter worship, yet you lay waste to her sacred glens. Persian axes dig into the pale flesh of tender trunks, leaving holy groves desolate. Turn back your woodcutters lest Lady Demeter send drought over the entire world. Yield in this sacrilege!"

Mardonius bristled, stood to shout back at her. "Yield? Yield yourself! Lest I have an ax fixed in your flesh. From these trees shall I build a great palisade to house my warriors while we plan the end of Hellas. Surely this isn't the triviality you've come before me to utter. I've offered the greatest restraint, desiring only to govern Hellas, not destroy it."

"Glutton! Having thieved the rest of the world of its wealth, you've come to rob Hellas of its poverty. You've not been initiated into the Mysteries, wherefore you are insatiable, whether for lumber or table dainties. Food disappears into your bottomless pit of a stomach, wine flows as if into the depths of a sea. It's the same with your great hoggishness for countries. Yea, build your palisade with this great orgy of tree cutting." Myrrhine had never been one for prophecy, but she now felt her own daughter's influence. "All you plan within those cut timbers shall go against you. There shall you reap your reward for crimes against the goddess."

"Twice I've taken Athens without losing a man. Hellene soldiers flee before us like women. We are the greatest race in the world. All will bow before Persia."

"I see your love of mischief and adventure, your great arrogance. You surround yourself with flatterers, worms that bore into a man of simple character. Your very nature offends the gods."

Mardonius belched a great smelly cloud. "I'll not hear more of this." He turned to Hegesistratus. "Why bring this raving wretch before me?"

"She's the daughter of the Hierophant at Eleusis and priestess of Demeter. The great Mysteries of Eleusis are measured by her days. I thought it unwise to ignore her request for counsel. Besides, the deformed creature that brought her causes great disruption in camp."

Mardonius turned back to her. "Why come shouting into my tent thus? If you have another request, make it. Lunatic ravings do little to further your cause."

"Your gluttony is only exceeded by your battle atrocities. You've slaughtered the Hierophant, my father, and taken my daughter. I've come to retrieve her, along with the other women of Eleusis you kidnapped. Perhaps you don't realize Demeter's daughter is Mistress of the Underworld. My daughter is forever in the goddess' protection. You'll not find her an asset. She descended to the Underworld to ensure your defeat at Salamis."

Mardonius spoke to one of his lieutenants, who rushed from the room. He started to speak again but Myrrhine cut him off.

"To speak the name of the Mistress of the Underworld in public is forbidden, so we use Kore instead. If necessary, I'll speak it here in your camp to get my daughter back. Even if you've butchered her, I'll have the body."

Mardonius raised his hand to silence Myrrhine, but to no avail.

"Dear goddess of death, Persephone," she emphasized the name, drew out each syllable to its fullest length, "mother of the Furies, Queen of the Netherworld, within this camp lies the great corruption that offends you. Bend your thoughts to visions of death and spread terror for these troops. Harvest these souls who lie in great insolence among your temples."

Clubfooted Hegesistratus shouted, "Enough!" and turned to Mardonius. "Please! Silence this woman, sire. Oh, the evil this woman brings!"

Mardonius' lieutenant returned, speaking again in the foreign tongue. Mardonius turned to her.

"You shall have your women. We have no knowledge of your daughter, though she may be disguised among them. Neither would such a priestess have been slaughtered on the battlefield against my order, nor would have a Hierophant. In the chaos of war, families get separated. Have faith that your daughter is still alive. We'll return these women who are rightfully ours as the spoils of war. Be content with more than your share."

Myrrhine turned on him, her eyes flaming. "They are Demeter's daughters, not yours!" Deep hatred flavored her words. "Never, never will they be yours!"

He walked her outside to where the after-dinner leftovers were being served to the bodyguards and light-armed troops in attendance.

"These women are all we have," he told her, pointing to a small group huddled in the dark. "Since Hellas is already mine, they'll not be missed long. Now remove the beast with a man's head. His presence is a disruption to both warriors and horses."

Myrrhine scanned the captive women's faces and suffered a great disappointment. Melaina wasn't among them. She staggered under the blow but recovered. She couldn't believe they'd taken only six women. Anaktoria must be in camp but neither was she among them. Still, Myrrhine knew she shouldn't push her luck. "Demeter will punish you for holding the rest," she said, but couldn't resist a last appeal. "My daughter is heavy with child. I must have her."

Mardonius looked surprised. "Was she among a group of girls outside the city gates by the river?"

"Yes!" shouted Myrrhine. "It was she."

"I saw this girl! I led the charge on Eleusis myself from my white stallion. We bore down on the group of girls, but from nowhere swooped a chariot, one driven by a madman and pulled by four black horses. Never have I witnessed such daring. He snatched the pregnant girl from us as our grip tightened about her."

Oh! Such sweet words. Melaina alive and in Greek hands! Myrrhine's heart was secretly aglow with gratitude, but not only for this gift of hope. Amongst the women of Eleusis, she'd spotted Agido's mother holding her infant son.

And another thing. She realized Mardonius was doomed. Tied beside his tent was a great white stallion. Melaina's vision when she fell on the way to Epidaurus revealed the death of a man on such a white horse.

At the wagon, Myrrhine saw the dejected look on Palaemon's face but couldn't tell him the full story there. "Into the wagon," Myrrhine ordered the women, afraid to acknowledge them worth taking. She urged the blacksmith turn about in haste. "Get us out of here," she said.

CHAPTER 25: Contention Among the Ashes

Mid-day, the blacksmith's wagon, carrying Myrrhine and the newly retrieved women, approached Eleusis. From a distance, Myrrhine saw the Thriasian Plain swarming with Greek warriors. The city was abuzz with citizens who'd survived, many more than she'd thought. Word of Myrrhine's rescue of the women spread by loud shouts and screams.

Agido came running to her mother and smiled broadly at Myrrhine. "You told me when you left you'd make it up to me."

Already the resurrection of Eleusis was in progress. During the past four days, walls had been repaired and makeshift roofs put in place. Even Myrrhine's home showed signs of rebirth. Several slaves had survived and chose to stay rather than join the Persians. Melaina's handmaid and two male servants were among them.

She had to bury her father's bones, and entered the ruins of the temple to recover them. There she encountered Aeschylus. His disposition was grave, and she feared what news he might have brought.

"Don't worry about Melaina," he said. "Kallias saved her. She's with him in Athens."

Myrrhine fell to the ground before him, prayed to Demeter silently, then once again looked up at Aeschylus. "The power of Demeter is beyond imagining. All my prayers answered. When will she return?"

"She won't," Aeschylus said. "Kallias has married her."

Shock and dismay quieted her momentarily. Melaina had married Kallias? Her anger quickly flared. "How could this be? Only I can marry her off. Who raised the bridal torch?"

"Hipparete and I provided all that was proper. We returned to take you to Athens for the ceremony, but couldn't find you."

"Why the hurry? All in good time, pleases Hera."

"The full moon was right to give its blessing."

"There'd be another."

"Uncontrollable events force the pace of our lives."

"Kallias doesn't know her weakness." Myrrhine had meant the epilepsy but wished she'd said nothing, realizing Aeschylus didn't, and shouldn't, know.

"Kallias knows she's pregnant but has wanted her from the time she was born, when he was only fifteen. Kynegeiros agreed to the match before he died in battle ten years ago."

Myrrhine slumped on a blackened stone, glad he'd misinterpreted. "Why the secrecy?"

"The decision was made on the battlefield at Marathon, but Zakorus would never agree to it. Melaina has belonged to me since Kynegeiros' death. I only let you raise her as a favor to your father."

Mention of her father's resistance lit a fire in Myrryine's thoughts. She realized that Aeschylus couldn't answer her question. She knew what was up. "My father resisted for good reason. Kynegeiros would never have given Melaina to a Kerykes," she said. "That would put the Mysteries in charge of a single family, and reduce the Eumolpids to secondary status. Demeter herself would never allow it."

Aeschylus looked shocked. He stammered. "I needed to get this scandalous indiscretion out of the family."

Myrrhine's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts conjuring Kallias' recent actions. No wonder he'd been there at Brauron when Melaina needed him, and again when the Persian hoards descended on Eleusis.

"This is an outrage!" she shouted. "You've upset the balance of power in Eleusis. You're a Eumolpid, same as Melaina. Your own family will turn on you for this."

A messenger from the generals interrupted them. The commander wanted to talk to all the women who'd been in the Persian camp. Aeschylus, upon hearing this, quickly disappeared, leaving Myrrhine puzzled and confused over her daughter's marriage to a man that went against both custom and divine will. Aeschylus would pay for this.

The Greek forces were assembling for the drive north to intercept Mardonius. While others questioned the rest of the women, Myrrhine was taken directly to Pausanias, the Spartan general commanding the united armies. Aeschylus reappeared tagging along behind her.

Myrrhine was shocked at Pausanias' youthful appearance. He looked to be in his late twenties with scant beard.

"Where are the Persian troops positioned?" he asked.

"Spread out along the north bank of the Asopus," she told him, "as far as the eye can see in both directions. Just northeast of Morea Bridge, he's laid waste to Boeotia's forests to build a gigantic palisade."

"To whom did you speak?"

"Mardonius himself," she said, sending murmurs through the crowd.

Pausanias took a deep breath, relaxed. "What can you tell us of him?" he asked.

"Gluttony is his most obvious trait."

"Aha!" said Pausanias. "If they don't conserve supplies, they'll be starving in a week."

"He's also a man of great confidence on the surface, but if I read him rightly, questioning within."

"Hum. So, what do you think?" he asked, turning to Aeschylus, who'd stepped out from behind Myrrhine

"At the first sign of trouble, they'll scatter like mice."

"That's also how I read it. Speak to anyone else?" he asked Myrrhine.

"Only Hegesistratus, his diviner."

"Ho!" a man shouted, stepped forward from the crowd. "My countryman, one of the Telliadae clan." The man was short, thin, effeminate in manner. Myrrhine recognized him as Tisamenus, a seer from Elis, where the Olympic games were held and, therefore, with a reputation unexcelled for fairness. She'd heard of an oracle from Delphi saying that Tisamenus would lead the Spartans to five victories. The coming battle would be his first test.

"The clubfoot?" asked Pausanias.

"Yes," said Tisamenus.

"He's long been a Spartan enemy. We should have finished him when we had him in chains years ago. Tell me, does he still limp?"

"He makes do with his wood foot," answered Myrrhine.

Tisamenus' amusement over Hegesistratus' impediment got the better of him. "Half man, half tree!" he shouted. "They say he must keep moving or his foot sprouts roots." His laughter was a contagion among them.

Pausanias spoke again. "Anything else about Mardonius?"

"He's fearless of the gods."

"Yet he retains a Hellene seer. Interesting."

"The gods will send him false prophecies," said Tisamenus. "Hegesistratus will be worse than useless to him."

"You should also speak to Palaemon," she suggested. "He noticed a weakness in Persian armor."

Pausanias then called for the smith as the generals tossed about her news, but Myrrhine could tell they were just buying time. Something else worried them. The generals stood weaving their thoughts, each afraid to speak first. Finally, Pausanias turned to her again.

"We have another problem," he said, "a greater threat than the Persians. We have no trust among ourselves. We see cowardice on the battlefield, insubordination. In the past, we've turned on our allies as soon as a battle was won. I wish nothing more than for us to live in peace beyond the coming battle, but we are all violent, changeable men, not to be trusted. We need an oath. If the aged Hierophant was still among us, he'd administer it, but since he's no longer with us, who could better perform the ceremony than his daughter, priestess of the goddess dwelling in the ruins of this holy temple?"

"You would have a woman administer it?" questioned Aeschylus.

Myrrhine felt hatred for Aeschylus thinking again how he'd given away Melaina.

Tisamenus spoke up. "The goddess Iris is oathgiver to the gods, so let us have a woman, a priestess to bind us in this oath."

Thus, it was agreed, over Aeschylus' objection, and the lot of them walked through the ruins to the toppled icons of Demeter and Kore.

Myrrhine ordered the heralds, "Bring a black ewe for Demeter, a snow-white ram for Helios, and a third sheep for Zeus."

The heralds departed while the rest mixed gleaming bowls of wine and water, in which they rinsed the hands of the generals. When they returned, Pausanias drew his sword and gave it to Myrrhine, who cut curly locks from the lambs' heads and handed them to the generals, as had the ancient Achaians at Troy.

Myrrhine read the papyrus scroll containing the words for the oath. She caught her breath and turned to Pausanias.

"You can't possibly expect them to swear this."

"What's wrong? We made a mistake?"

"By all that's sacred, yes," she said, her eyes flashing across those of each of the men. Her daughter's influence had overcome her. "The temples must be rebuilt. We can't expect Demeter to sanctify an oath denying her a new temple. What will happen to the Mysteries?"

The generals went off to themselves to discuss the issue, but resented being questioned by a woman and quickly returned, stone-faced as ever. "The statement stands," Pausanias said, sheepishly.

"Stubbornness is not a virtue," she chided. "We must rebuild the Telesterion." How could this be happening? she wondered. Surely the gods must still value the Mysteries.

"Leave these matters to those in power. If you'll not give the oath, we'll find another though it not strengthen our cause."

Myrrhine hesitated, she just couldn't do this, then remembered Hermes, the divine master of oath taking, how he lived by the letter but violated the spirit of the oath. Only those taking it will be bound, she thought, and these men will not do the rebuilding. She made her decision.

"Alright," she said, "I'll do as you wish. Woe be unto those who go against their oath. All oaths are surrounded by Furies." She stood before the ruins of the Telesterion and on the feet of Demeter, the only part of the Goddess' image that remained, and the spot where the full-figured stone sculpture had stood just days before. Myrrhine seemed to become Demeter herself as she raised her arms and prayed aloud so that all could hear.

"Father Zeus, greatest and most glorious lord of lightning ruling from Ida's height; fire-faced Helios, who sees and hears all things; Earth's Furies, snake-haired phantoms who punish the dead for falsely swearing; all ye gods be witness to our solemn oath."

Having so spoken, she turned to the multitude and had them repeat after her.

"I will fight to the death. I will not cherish life more than liberty, nor will I desert the leaders, whether they be living or dead. I will bury all allies who perish in battle. If we overcome the barbarians, I will never help destroy any cities that fought for Hellas nor will I rebuild any of the ravaged sanctuaries but leave them as a reminder of barbarian impiety."

So they all spoke, the murmur spreading in a dull chorus. Myrrhine cut the lambs' throats with the pitiless bronze and laid them on the ground gasping away their lives, black blood flowing into a large vessel. The generals stepped forward to thrust their hands into the rich liquid. They then poured wine while praying to the immortals.

"Zeus, father of mortals and immortals, to all who keep this oath grant prosperous cities, fertile land, faithful wives, and blameless children; but for those who don't, O Furies and all gods who wreak vengeance, sack their cities, decimate their fields with drought, and give them deceiving wives who bear children in the likeness of their enemies."

Myrrhine wasn't fond of the remark about wives and children but knew it had been customary since the time of Agamemnon. Tisamenus then read the entrails, obtained a favorable sign, and the army dispersed. The great mass of men then set off north. As the long river of humanity snaked along the road north, Myrrhine noticed a quiet determination she'd not seen before in warriors.

She retired to bury her father's bones, still smarting over Melaina's marriage to Kallias. Myrrhine, with the help of one of her slaves, prepared for the Hierophant's funeral. The slave dug the grave in the sacred chamber not far from where the bones of Kynegeiros lay. She looked upon her deceased husband's grave and felt the shame of what had happen. "How I wish you were here, Kynegeiros," she whispered. "Aeschylus has given Melaina to Kallias. Regardless of what your brother says, you surely didn't do this."

Myrrhine retrieved the sarcophagus containing her father's partially burned relics, arranged the ashes first, then the charred feet bones, what was left of the arms, spine, and finally the skull. The fire had consumed the fine bones of the hands. Yet, the skeleton seemed too small. They always did.

*

The next morning, as dawn's pink glow became visible in the east, she placed the sarcophagus inside the grave, covered it with dirt, and ordered a slave to place a large stone slab over it. She brought forward a cock, placed its head on the slab and cleaved it with one swift stroke, a sacrifice to Asklepios, god of resurrection. The wings flapped violently, sending huge gusts of wind about her and blood pumping from the wound. Myrrhine raised her hands. "Mother Earth, all mortals' Final Receiver, take this man, my father, into thy bosom for all eternity. I offer only this small fowl that his soul may be renewed in the Afterlife and taken directly to the Elysian Fields. Dear Hermes, guide of souls in the Underworld, see to his swift voyage across the Styx, and let him not drink from the waters of the Lethe. Instead, take him directly to Kore, so that she may rest his cares. He was a great man, sending you many mortal souls. I know you must share my love for him, for you have seen fit to sacrifice all Eleusis as his funeral pyre. Care for him now. Never has the world seen the like of him."

Myrrhine returned to her own chamber of ashes. The fire had gone from the hearth of Hestia and from Myrrhine's world as well. When will I ever see my daughter again? she wondered. She retraced Demeter's steps after the goddess had lost her own daughter and had come to Eleusis after abandoning her search. Though she was hungry, Myrrhine sat without eating at the Kallichoron Well, where in the past, initiates had danced and twirled during the Mysteries. But now the well was crowded with old men trying to clean it of debris the Persians had dumped into it. She entered the sanctuary to the Mirthless Rock, where Demeter had sat mourning Kore's absence. Myrrhine spent the rest of the day there, and at the nearby Cave of Hades, wasting and waiting. The gates had been ripped from their hinges and the altar defiled.

At sundown, Myrrhine heard horse hooves on the cobblestone streets, and shortly, Aeschylus once again stood before her, this time with a nervous smile.

"Some time ago," Aeschylus said, "the generals received an oracle from Delphi saying that if we fight before a temple of Eleusinian Demeter, Hellas will be victorious. But since the Persians fled the Thriasian Plane for Boeotia, this has been thought impossible. It appeared all was lost, but last night the Plataean general Arimnestus dreamed that Zeus told him all the temples mentioned in the oracle are in Plataea. A frantic search has turned up nothing. I wonder if perhaps you know of a temple in Boeotia that might satisfy Delphi."

Myrrhine answered, "I was at that sanctuary a few days ago, but the goddess no longer resides there. The Boeotians abandoned her and her temple years ago."

"Then return with me. Show us the temple and ensure the goddess' presence to bolster our cause. Bid her return."

"Let us examine this request," she said, turning to stare him down as she'd seen Melaina do in one of her most lax moments. "You've taken my daughter without permission, married her off to the biggest thief in Athens, not even allowing me my due at her wedding. Demeter's temple here in Eleusis is in ashes, and the generals have vowed not to rebuild it. Now you expect me to go into the war zone to resurrect another of Demeter's desecrated temples. All to save your stinking hide?"

"Stay then, but tell the location of the temple," he countered.

"Never!" she shouted.

Aeschylus shouted back, "We are not fighting Persia for me. Loose not your wrath upon all Hellas. We fight for our people-owned state."

"Bring Melaina. Let's talk of ending this marriage. Never will I believe this is the wish of your brother." She turned her back and walked away.

*

Myrrhine spent her days sifting ashes. She still went without food or washing, clothes tattered and blackened with soot, pulling her dark robe about her. Even in the presence of women, she lowered her veil. She took no interest in the constant stream of warriors from the east and west as they converged at Eleusis before turning north along the road over Oak Heads Pass and then continued on past the dark feet of Kithaeron to where the battle would be fought on the grassy banks of the Asopus. All her thoughts were of her dead father and Melaina, her pregnant daughter, now the caretaker of the home of the richest man in Athens.

Early one morning, Myrrhine dug herself out of her new sleeping quarters, a lean-to in the Cave of Hades where she'd taken to spending nights. She'd heard familiar voices and now saw young Sophocles coming toward her. Her old friend Kleito, messenger of mercy, was with him as well as Kleito's ever-present child Euripides, his hands already blackened with ashes.

"Oh, Myrrhine!" said Kleito, "how you've wasted away! You mustn't indulge in such fruitless grief."

"How can I live without Melaina? My father is dead. I have no one."

Myrrhine collapsed into Kleito's arms and cried the long hard tears she hadn't allowed herself. She still refused to eat, even refused a cup of wine. Kleito mixed a sacred drink, the kykeon: water, barley meal, and pennyroyal, which the initiates to the Mysteries took to break their fast.

"I saw Melaina a short while before she and Kallias left for Athens," said Kleito. "She was marvelously well, spirits high. In no more than a month, you'll be a grandmother."

"Oh Kleito!" cried Myrrhine, "I feel as though I've been sheltered all my days and now, finally, initiated into life itself. These painful gifts of the gods are too much to bear. The Mysteries have fallen into the hands of the Kerykes. The yoke about my neck is too heavy."

"Still, you can be glad for Melaina. There's no better bridegroom in all Hellas. Plouton, god of wealth himself, could offer no more."

Myrrhine wasn't consoled. "I must see her, Kleito. This marriage cannot be."

*

Two days later, Kallias showed his face for the first time since Eleusis burned. He didn't call Myrrhine to his home, but had come to her, entering the ashes of the cave looking tentative, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, and Aeschylus trailing behind. Melaina wasn't with them.

The mere sight of Kallias softened Myrrhine's heart. She'd coveted him for her own bed, and didn't really believe he was a thief, until now. She'd have to make peace with this man if she'd ever get to see her daughter, though she still hated him for what he'd done to the Eumolpids.

"Mardonius tells me you snatched Melaina from his very grip. An act of extraordinary courage."

"The prize was worth the risk," Kallias said.

"That man hiding behind you also tells me that you've finally snatched the Mysteries from the Eumolpids."

He would not meet her eyes and looked away, and Aeschylus stayed in the background.

"Kynegeiros would never have given Melaina to you. We both know that. Rest assured this is not over."

"What does a woman know of battlefield promises? Besides, what's done cannot be undone."

"Twice you've saved Melaina. Kynegeiros would be grateful. I'll not trouble you with a mother's disappointment at being absent from her own daughter's wedding, just a request. I must see her."

"In due time. Divine Justice weighs our fate against Persian greed, and all must seek their rightful place in our salvation."

"You'll not take me to her?" Myrrhine realized now that he'd been gentle with her in the past only because of Melaina.

"Some will fight at Plataea, others to protect Hellas from another attack by sea. Already I'm late to assume command aboard a trireme."

"Return when you have something to offer," she said.

Kallias maintained a silent stare, then relaxed. "Perhaps I have a solution. I maintain a home here in Eleusis. After all, I am the Dadouchos. I'll go this far. You help the generals at Plataea, show them the temple, pray Demeter's allegiance, and I'll see to it that Melaina spends two-thirds of the year here in Eleusis. I'll not stand in her way if she chooses to officiate at the Mysteries."

"As a Eumolpid or a Keyrkes?" she asked. Myrrhine was still angry and not able to force herself to voice acceptance. "The Mysteries are no more," she said. "The oath the generals took has relegated them to the past."

"Your daughter is well," he countered. "If you have words for my wife, I'll relay them."

When she made no reply, he quickly vanished, leaving Aeschylus standing before her.

"Would that the Hierophant had lived," he said.

"No doubt he'd have been able to stop Melaina's marriage and been more sympathetic to your request." She turned her back to him, walked away as she knew no woman should ever treat a man. But she'd done so to Kallias and was beginning to enjoy it.

"This people's republic has sprouted only a few years here in Hellas and is but a young sapling," Aeschylus said to her back. "It's the greatest gift any civilization has ever given humanity. If cut down now, it may disappear forever. Don't let it die on the battlefield at Plataea."

Myrrhine realized that he spoke the truth. She remembered her daughter's love of freedom. Devotion to her daughter changed her mind. She turned toward him. "The Hierophant could never have spoken for Demeter, anyway," she said, "but I can. Yes, I'll do this, Demeter willing."

CHAPTER 26: The Battle of Plataea

This time they reached Oak Heads Pass in half a day, Myrrhine astride a horse behind Sophocles, having refused to ride with Aeschylus. Riding for the first time was a frightening experience, and she clung desperately to the young man, her arms about his waist and embarrassment in her heart. They thundered past pack animals and foot soldiers going to reinforce those already at the battlefront.

At the narrow pass where rocky cliffs bordered each side of the road, a soldier commanding a squadron of Greek soldiers stepped into the road with his arm raised. Supply wagons crowded the side of the road. "Three nights ago," said the man blocking the way, "Persians waylaid a convoy of five-hundred wagons loaded with supplies. Only troops who can defend themselves are allowed through."

Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Myrrhine dismounted to stand beneath the towering crags, staring out over the spurs of Kithaeron that humped downward to a broken range of low rolling hills with the Asopus beyond. This was Boeotia, spread like a patchwork quilt. They saw Mardonius' army encamped on the far side of the thin ribbon of river, the bright sun revealing wispy outlines of the newly built palisade.

Aeschylus stood before the soldier. "We come at the order of Pausanias himself. Provide an escort. We must get through."

They waited while the soldiers argued and cursed. Finally, three unwilling horsemen with breastplates and iron helmets mounted. "They are all we can spare," the commander said.

On horseback once again, they plunged down the steep slope into the valley with the three mounted soldiers going before them. They rounded a hilltop and abruptly came upon a slaughter field. Bodies were strewn about, some lying in the road, others among shrubs and tender sprouts of fall grass. Two arrows were unleashed in their direction before they could arrest their charging pace and take to the brush themselves.

"Identify yourself," called a shaky voice.

Myrrhine slunk down behind Sophocles, felt herself tremble.

Aeschylus shouted back, "We're on a mission for Pausanias. We escort the priestess from Eleusis."

"Come forward slowly," said a shaky soldier stepping out of the bushes. "Proceed," he said. "We expected you yesterday."

Both Greek and Persian casualties of the recent battle lay beside the road and in the bushes, some dead, some in wounded agony. Several horses, bridled but riderless, stood nearby. "We've been harassed by Persian cavalry, called women," said one warrior. "What a grievous insult. The battle was very bloody." Several others came to the side of the road to watch them pass.

Myrrhine hid her face against Sophocles' back.

Before reaching the Asopus, Myrrhine motioned them off the main road toward Demeter's temple on a gentle swell of land where she and the blacksmith had been only days before. The temple was still abandoned and the softly rounded hills still covered by unspoiled grain. Breezes swept through wheat, the rich hair of the bountiful goddess, in this the most fertile plain of Boeotia.

As soon as he'd scouted the area, Aeschylus rode off in a cloud of dust. Myrrhine and Sophocles attended the icons of Demeter and Kore, clearing loose stones from the temple and propping the roof. She stood back and observed Demeter on her throne, set Kore standing straight on her pedestal alongside her mother. Long and hard she prayed that the goddesses return to the temple. She made excuses for the neglect shown Demeter's temple in recent years and promised her a great bounty for her support.

From the temple gate, Myrrhine stood with young Sophocles viewing the distant line of trees along the Asopus and Mardonius' Palisade on the far shore. Since Myrrhine's little group had successfully crossed over Oak Heads pass, men and supplies streamed along Kithaeron's spurs. The mountain was deep in shadow. Myrrhine heard Kithaeron and felt it as a great presence looming over the sanctuary. Many considered Kithaeron Hera's mountain because she and Zeus were married on its summit. Myrrhine heard the mountain's moan, sweet whispers in the late summer breeze. It had been mother and nurse to newborns exposed on its slopes since the days of Oedipus.

Aeschylus returned with three generals: Pausanias of Sparta, commander of the united Greek forces; Aristides, general of the Athenians; and Arimnestus, general of the Plataeans in whose deme the temple of Demeter stood.

"This district is Argiopium," said Arimnestus. "We asked all our eldest countrymen about the temple of Demeter, but no one knew of it."

Myrrhine said, "Plataea has too long neglected Demeter in favor of male gods. Her temple here has been abandoned for many years. Now you will have an opportunity to correct the injustice. I've prayed to the goddess, but can't guarantee I've erased all her anger at the neglect."

Arimnestus spoke to the other generals. "The foothills here at Kithaeron's feet are full of ridges, hollows, and concealed potholes. This makes it unsuitable for horses but good for foot soldiers. Thus, it will be to our advantage in battle. Within this thickly shaded grove stands the fane of Androcrates, another requirement of the oracle. Thus all elements are satisfied."

"No! One remains," said Aristides. "The land belongs to Plataea, not Athens. The oracle stated that we Athenians must fight on our own soil."

"That's critical," said Myrrhine. "Delphi's reasoning is sound. Plataea must give this land to Athens, so that Athena will protect it and all its allies. It is the goddesses who will save Hellas."

Arimnestus looked daggers at Myrrhine. "I'd be interested in knowing more about why this is so. This controversy puts us at odds with Athens."

"Thebes is the land of Ares, god of war. Its people are his descendants. Because of this, Ares will be on the side of Thebes and Persia in the coming battle."

"How can we hope for victory if Ares is against us?"

"Athena is always more fearsome in armed conflict than is Ares. She wounded Ares herself during the Trojan War."

"Eyie!" cried Arimnestus. "The priestess is correct. Plataea has a great dilemma. We must give our land to Athens or lose it to Persia."

Aristides said, "We're all Hellene, Arimnestus. Athens is a good friend."

"All right, Aristides. The oracle must be fulfilled. Although we prize our independence more than any other people, we'll remove our boundary stones."

"This is a great act of patriotism," said Aristides. "Plataea will live forever as the supreme example of nobility and magnanimity."

Myrrhine added, "Let it be known throughout the army that the battle for Hellas will be won and lost here, before Demeter's temple."

Myrrhine's words evaporated in the noise of sheep, goats, and pigs descending on the sanctuary. It seemed an invasion of the four-footed. Soon she saw that shepherds drove the animals. A chariot drawn by four white horses followed them closely. At the reins was a female charioteer, the first Myrrhine had ever seen. Beside the woman, Myrrhine recognized, having seen him only recently at Eleusis, short, thin Tisamenus, the seer. No sooner did Tisamenus dismount the carriage than four more men arrived. Myrrhine took them to be assistants and students of the great seer.

Myrrhine couldn't help staring at the woman charioteer. She was so beautiful. She wore the normal chiton belted at the waist, but over it, a long black mantle fastened with buttons at the shoulders. Her hair was the most brilliant gold Myrrhine had ever seen, Helios himself seemingly shining from within. The woman wore her hair parted in the middle, brought low down the sides of her face, and pulled to the back in a braid so long that it fell all the way to her feet. It was tied-off by a black tassel. Myrrhine tried to talk to the woman, but found that they had no common language.

The generals left, slapping their horses' flanks for more speed, and Tisamenus quickly set to work, shouting his assistants into action. First, in the courtyard before the icons of Demeter and Kore, he put up a large slaughter stone and dug a roasting pit where his helpers stacked firewood. Then he pulled a table from the carriage and, on the ground beside it, placed another large stone. He placed his left foot on the stone and leaned forward, resting his left arm on his knee. Again and again, he assumed the position, gauged the table's distance, pushing it away, then pulling it closer. Once satisfied, he ordered the sacred animals placed in pens, the sheep and goats separated, the swine isolated.

Several other seers and their assistants also appeared, but Tisamenus drove them a stone's throw away while mumbling to himself, "Charlatans and the feebleminded. What a worthless lot we seers are."

When all was in place, Tisamenus unlaced his sandals, discarded them, and dressed himself in seer's clothes. The liver scrutinizer wore a short-sleeved undergarment closed at the neck, and over it a knee-length, pleated cloak held together at the breast by a golden clasp. Upon his curly head, he wore a hat rising to a high, narrow, conical top, held fast by bands down the sides of the face and knotted under the chin. He remained barefooted.

Myrrhine took the woman's hand, and led her back from the men. She seemed afraid, but Myrrhine appreciated her presence, the two of them the sole feminine presence in this world of men. She wore a diadem, which marked her as royalty. "Who is this woman," she asked of Tisamenus.

"She's an Etruscan Priestess of the Dawn," he answered. "She's also my wife, Auroriana, and not very pleased with me bring her here." He adjusted his cloak that seemed a bit large for his thin frame, told Auroriana something in a tongue Myrrhine did not know.

Auroriana hugged Myrrhine than held both her hands in front of her, smiled.

Tisamenus said, "She's pleased you're a priestess. Look after her, if you don't mind. She's lacking in your battlefield courage, though she can drive a chariot like a madman."

What battlefield courage? thought Myrrhine. She let go of the woman's hands and looked back at Tisamenus, who'd finished dressing. Not only was Tisamenus small in stature but also small-boned. His fingers were long, supple, and delicate. The hands of a woman, Myrrhine thought, and felt jealous of the smooth, soft look of his skin.

"You approve of my uniform?" Tisamenus asked.

"It's not my place to approve or disapprove," Myrrhine answered.

"Still, you have an opinion."

"I'm curious of its origin."

"Also from Etruria," he said, "the city of Tarquinia, northwest of Rome. I learned seercraft from the Etruscans, and they let me take a wife. You may have heard Hellenes call them Tyrrhenians. I'm one of the few to read from the Disciplina Etrusca of Tages, grandson of Tinia, greatest of all gods. There I'm known as a haruspex."

Myrrhine was familiar with the myth of Tages, a gray-haired infant who was supposed to have been unearthed by a peasant plowing with a bronze-tipped blade. The divine child sprang out of the soil chanting ancient texts from which came Etruscan knowledge of prophecy. The Etruscans were known as the most religious people in all the world. She wondered why a Greek had been given such distinction, then remembered that Delphi had foretold that Tisamenus would one day guide Sparta to five victories in battle. Even the Etruscans respected Delphi.

Aeschylus returned along with several more generals, and Myrrhine watched as the Greek army strategically repositioned about the temple. Shortly the grove came alive with men of war and their assistants. Wagons loaded with supplies and armor came alongside them.

Myrrhine stood beside Auroriana, out of Tisamenus' way, as she knew a woman's unrequested presence during a sacrifice wasn't appreciated. The generals hovered about in the failing light like lost souls in the Underworld while Tisamenus prepared to perform his entrails-reading at the table lit by torches and oil lamps. His assistants gathered about, two of them removing their tunics, to Myrrhine's great surprise. She turned her head a walked away.

Just to Tisamenus' left stood a powerfully built naked but bearded man with a spear. On the other side of the seer, opposite the naked spear-carrier, stood an older man, also in haruspex dress and leaning on a staff. To this man's right stood another naked man holding an olive branch. Tisamenus draped a cloak about the man's shoulders.

Tisamenus called Auroriana to her horses and then turned to Myrrhine, entreating her to stand behind the two seers.

"Surely not among naked men," she answered.

"They serve the ritual. We can't do it without another woman."

Slowly, she crept around to the place Tisamenus designated.

"Stand here," he said. "Face forward and keep your eyes intent upon the entrails. She peered between them at the liver on the table as Tisamenus examined it. She hoped he didn't expect her to voice an opinion for she had little knowledge of reading entrails. She wished she'd been party to her daughter's teaching by blind Udaeüs at Epidaurus.

All the masculinity around her overcame Myrrhine. She'd never been this close to a group of male relatives, much less so many strangers, and naked at that! Her heart raced wildly in spite of herself. She felt an uncommon sense of purpose and dignity among them. After they all fell into position, Auroriana led forward the four white horses by their bridles and stood behind Myrrhine and Tisamenus. So close was she to Myrrhine, she could smell the marjoram in the girl's hair and feel horses' breath ruffling her skirt.

Tisamenus turned to the generals. "Your question for the gods?"

The generals argued among themselves for a moment before Pausanias gave an answer. "Ask them under what conditions we'll win the battle against the Persians."

Tisamenus stepped from his carefully positioned compatriots to stand before Pausanias. "Idiot! You expect I'll extract a scroll from within the animal? Perhaps I should ask for a discourse on the meaning of the universe? Formulate a question with a 'yes' or 'no' answer, otherwise I'll retire to tend the flocks."

Pausanias, though young, was a large man standing before small Tisamenus, and the heated reprimand appeared as though it came from a child. Again, Pausanias consulted the generals while Tisamenus set fire to the timber in the roasting pit. Shortly Pausanias and the other generals came to him again. "Will we defeat the Persians if we force the attack?"

Satisfied with the question, Tisamenus brought the first sheep forward and slit its throat on the slaughter stone, couching the question within unintelligible words and waiting for blood to drain into the pit. When the animal stopped kicking, he slit the underside from stem to stern, broke open the ribcage with a crunch, and extracted the entrails: the still-beating heart, lungs, windpipe, and liver, all of which he laid on the table before him as he reassumed his position within the group. He performed a superficial examination of the heart, lungs, and windpipe, finally pronouncing, "The animal is healthy."

Picking up the liver, Tisamenus placed his left foot on the stone and turned his right foot perpendicular to it but flat on the ground. He held the liver in the hollow of his left hand, the large lobes hanging like pouches, making the liver's details distinct but dripping both blood and green bile. The back of the wrist of the holding hand rested on the bent knee of the left leg. Fingers of the right hand gently, sensually stroked and alternately played along the liver's wet surface as though he was plucking the strings of a lyre. All the while, Tisamenus chanted in a foreign tongue and complained of the liver's condition and color. Finally, he stopped.

"No!" he shouted, and Myrrhine jumped, so close was she to him and so loud his response. "The god's answer is, 'No!'"

Myrrhine stepped away from the group, assuming they were finished, but Tisamenus called her back. While Tisamenus put the entrails on the fire and called a slave to finish carving the animal for roasting, the generals again consulted, then put a new question to him. "Ask if we'll be defeated if we force the attack."

"Never ask a question so a favorable result means your doom. You can't trick the gods into the answer you desire."

"Then put it this way: Will we win if we let the Persians force the attack?"

A second sacrificial lamb was brought forward.

Myrrhine had witnessed seers at work before, but Tisamenus had an aura about him. She'd also not seen one so deliberate in his actions or mindful of his assistants. He demanded that the position of each remain the same as when he'd read the previous liver. She finally realized that their motions and posture were not at all spontaneous but repetition, ritual. He's recreating some scene from Tages ancient text, she thought. The magic of the setting must provoke the presence of the gods, causing them to impress their intentions upon the animal's liver. She'd never seen so much blood.

Again the rite was performed, another lamb slaughtered, and this time the answer came back "yes." The generals had confirmation that they must wait until the Persians crossed the river.

Yet not all the generals were so impressed, as not all believed in divination. "What a petty trifle augury is," said one. "I've seen it all before. What if two lambs are sacrificed simultaneously, but in one the liver is smooth and full and the other rough and shrunken? What ambivalent divinity then sent the condition and color? All these contrivances are but a joke sent by Zeus. The troops are starving to death. We must engage the enemy soon or they'll have no strength to fight."

Pausanias argued his support for Tisamenus. "My blood has not turned cold but boils for battle also. Although I'm young, I've learned respect for the will of the gods. I'm aware of our need for provisions," he said. "Losing the caravan a few nights ago cost us dearly. But going against the gods would prove disastrous. Patience, my friends, patience."

The men wouldn't let it rest. "Zeus speaks to us through lightning and thunder. Read those signs also."

"I'm a haruspex," said Tisamenus. "If you desire a fulguriator, seek another diviner. Look!" His arm swept their surroundings. "Local seers are thick as the trees of this sacred glen. Use one of them."

Thus the generals did consult with the uncommissioned seers gathered on the outskirts of the temple, but all the omens came back the same. Still, some complained that the generals didn't want to fight and had influenced the seers toward negative results.

Tisamenus was outraged. "Soldiers!" he shouted. "The sacrifices are not favorable for good reason. Remember, Delphi also said to honor patience until the Persians charge across the Asopus."

Since none of the victims proved favorable for an attack, the generals suspended the offerings. Tisamenus and Auroriana retired to their tent, he pulling the woman from Myrrhine's arms, neither wanting to be separated. The generals argued well into the night. Some championed attacking at dawn no matter what, others favored waiting until the augury changed. The two groups hammered at each other with all the arguments. Finally, the generals rose to their feet with a roar. No decision! Wanting it both ways.

Myrrhine was expecting the warriors to turn upon each other, when a shout went up from outside the sacred quarter. A lone horseman had entered the outskirts of camp and requested audience with "Aristides the Just."

Aristides talked with him outside torchlight, the horseman holding the reins in one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other. Presently, he mounted and rode back in the direction he'd come. Aristides returned, heading directly for Pausanias' tent. The two then entered the temple, fearing they'd be overheard, but took little notice of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Myrrhine.

"Our visitor was King Alexander of Macedonia," she heard Aristides say to Pausanias. "He tells a strange story, insisting I tell you but no other. Mardonius has decided to attack at dawn, no matter the omens. Myrrhine was right about Mardonius. He doesn't fear the gods, or if he does, doesn't fear them as much as he does the reinforcements joining us daily. Hegesistratus' entrails readings have also been against the Persians carrying out an assault, but Mardonius has chosen to ignore them. The Persians are running out of food."

"Mardonius is indeed foolish," said Pausanias. "The one who crosses the Asopus will lose the war. What great news! Does Alexander want something in return?"

"He's obviously playing both sides. Since Mardonius occupies his country, Alexander must support him but, being Hellene, wishes us well tomorrow and asks that we remember the great risk he's taken coming here. He wants us to do something about freedom for Macedonia should we prevail."

Myrrhine searched for a place to put a bed where she'd be away from Aeschylus and Sophocles. She wished Auroriana hadn't gone with her husband and would have stayed with her. She heard the generals discuss shuffling their forces to resist the Persian assault. The Athenians had successfully fought the Persians at Marathon; therefore, they'd line up opposite them. Since the Spartans had fought the Boeotians many times, they would try their luck with them again.

Myrrhine put out the torches in the temple, hoping to sleep a little before dawn. Aeschylus and Sophocles stood guard and talked softly at the entrance. As she laid a bearskin on the hard ground, thoughts of Melaina returned. Kallias had mentioned joining the fleet in the Aegean. Would Melaina be left alone? Who would take care of her? The baby could come at anytime.

At sunrise the next morning, Myrrhine woke hearing Auroriana praying to Thesan, Goddess of the Dawn, and she rose herself to see what the generals were up to. Mardonius, instead of attacking, sent a herald across the river to propose that the Spartans and Persians fight a single battle to determine the victor. The herald insulted the Spartans, calling them cowards for letting the Athenians line up opposite them. When the herald received no answer, he returned. Shortly, the Persian cavalry engaged the Greeks in skirmish after skirmish, but Persian ground forces stayed north of the river. All day the raids continued, ceasing only because of darkness. The assault about which King Alexander had warned never came. And apparently, all had been done in hopes that the Greeks could be provoked into crossing the Asopus to attack first.

That night, the Greeks again shifted their positions all along the front, seeking a location with more water. Persian cavalry had defiled the best source. Tisamenus was missing from camp, and Auroriana came to stay with Myrrhine, the two of them fashioning a makeshift bed next to Demeter's statue. Myrrhine heard Auroriana's soft-whispered breaths of sleep but could not slumber herself. She heard the generals arguing well past midnight.

*

The rattle of armor woke Myrrhine well before Auroriana rose to start her prayers to Thesan. Tisamenus also stalked about, rounding up sacrificial victims and grumbling of an apparent shortage. Some had been stolen for food during the night. When Tisamenus took to sacrificing again, the generals, along with thousands from the Spartan army, flocked around the altar, a great herd of humanity, each man weighing his own fate in the outcome of the sacred rite.

Myrrhine, Auroriana and the rest of Tisamenus' little group fell into place. The beautiful woman brought forward the four white horses, and the sacrificial victims' blood flowed. Cries of dismay erupted when the omens again showed unfavorable. Again and again sacrificial animals were brought forward, black blood flowed upon the slaughter stone, thirsty earth drank life's sap, and all for naught.

Came the sun, and with a great cry, the Persian infantry finally crossed the Asopus and began mustering for a full assault. Pausanias, desperate that the gods let him repel the attack, pushed the seer mercilessly for favorable omens. Still, the gods forbade the Greeks to fight. Pausanias ordered the army to sit on its shields and offer no resistance. This, the men accepted grudgingly as barbarian horsemen charged their position and whistling arrows decimated their ranks.

Sacrifices came as fast as Persian horses, with Pausanias in the middle of Tisamenus, and Tisamenus himself struggling, now breaking open a trembling carcass, now standing one foot upon his stone and fingering the shimmering translator of the gods' will, the liver.

"Perhaps the other entrails," suggested Pausanias. "How about the lungs?"

Tisamenus, his eyes revealing a mind in a whir, hadn't heard the commander. "We're out of animals," he said, eyes wide with terror.

Pausanias flew into a frenzy, words but no sense coming from his lips as he raged wildly among the trees, imprecating unholy curses. He stopped all of a sudden having noticed Auroriana's four white horses used in the ceremony.

"Four hoofed entrails there," he said.

Auroriana screamed in protest, as if she'd understood him.

"No!" shouted Tisamenus, "never could we violate the sacred ceremony they serve." He pushed Pausanias back from them.

"By Zeus! Extract your own then and read them." Pausanias stood before Tisamenus as if he'd filet the seer himself, misfortune had so unhinged him. He spotted an ox yoked to a wagon. "The beast of burden!" he cried, dragging it forward, the ox bellowing protest.

"The victim must be pure in body and soul, uncorrupted. Next you'll have me read entrails of rats and lizards." But Tisamenus relented, tried to feed the ox a handful of grain, but it bellowed and took no notice. "The animal is not healthy!" he shouted.

But Pausanias wouldn't take no for an answer. Soon, the gigantic liver was laid out on the table, and when the seer positioned himself, eyes feasting as if never having seen so much victual for scrutiny, he had to use both hands to lift it.

Pausanias loomed over him, helping along the reading.

"Stand back!" Tisamenus said. "You're a disruption."

Pausanias didn't budge. "There, the hue is deepest next the gallbladder," he said.

"The broad lobe carries the greatest import," countered Tisamenus. "Zeus' influence is there. But look! The liver's head is wanting. The answer is 'no.' The omens taunt us still."

Over Tisamenus' protest, they brought another ox, felling it without bothering to remove the yoke. As the seer leaned forward to read the new behemoth liver, the roar of Persian menace rose among them. Enemy horses entered the sacred glen, and Myrrhine fell back inside the temple as Aeschylus and Sophocles rushed into the fray. Auroriana abandoned her horses to stand behind her. Myrrhine watched as Persians on horseback scattered the sacrifice and neared the temple entrance. Pausanias and the other generals, even without actual weapons, drove the horsemen off with staves and whips.

But the chaos had rousted a sacred swine refuged amongst the bushes. Tisamenus, his little group scattered and the four horses nowhere to be seen, fell upon it and dragged it to the slaughter stone, threw a little holy water at it, slit its throat.

"This is indeed a good omen," said Myrrhine. "You've been sacrificing to the wrong god. Swine is the proper sacrifice for Demeter. It's she who'll save Hellas."

"But Hera's area of the liver overlaps that of Demeter. Who can tell the difference?" Tisamenus appeared disillusioned himself.

"Perhaps Hera's jealousy is interfering. Ever she bemoans Zeus siring Kore by Demeter," suggested Myrrhine.

"Yes!" shouted Pausanias, "the mother of us all is against us. 'Tis hopeless!" While Tisamenus remained bent over the liver, young Pausanias turned his back on the whole affair. Greatly depressed, he looked towards Kithaeron with tears in his eyes and shouted a prayer.

"Glorious Hera, greatest of all goddesses, high upon the tip of Kithaeron's darksome hollows where you and almighty Zeus were married, peer down upon us here on its slopes where Greeks now die at the hands of Persians. Listen to this prayer of desperation. If it's not our fate to win victory, at least let us not perish to Persian might without performing some great act. Let the enemy know they've waged war with courageous warriors and not cowards. Come to us in this hour of doom, rescue us from disgrace and forever we'll sacrifice glistening fat and succulent thigh pieces in your honor."

While Pausanias prayed, so Tisamenus read the last entrails, ignoring the portents of Zeus and relying exclusively on those from Demeter. Thus the soothsayer called out, "Yes! Victory is at hand! Loose the troops upon the battlefield."

Pausanias charged from the shady glen into the bright sunlight, his face relaxed and joy in his voice as he shouted the news. Aeschylus followed, but Myrrhine and Sophocles went only a short distance beyond the temple gate. Auroriana, having abandoned her horses, trailed along behind them. The Persian cavalry had broken off contact, but the enemy army, now fully mustered for a full frontal assault, began to move forward. Pausanias drew himself upon a wagon, and Myrrhine heard him address the troops of the phalanx as they donned battle garb.

"Mardonius hastens toward two evils, loss of valor and death. Therefore, welcome Persia! Bring your arrows, swords! Harness your steeds. Fill the plain with the clangor of shields. Great warriors of Sparta! Finally, we go to battle and grave danger. Even the most gallant feels fear, so if you see someone faint of heart, bethink you this: we are all that stands between Hellas and ruin. Summon to glory one another by name. Pursuit creates courage even in cowards. Sweet are the memories of a gallant victory."

Myrrhine watched heavily armed hoplites slip on bronze helmets and tighten their bony cuirasses about their chests, fasten greaves about their shins. Each lightly armed assistant nervously performed the motions of dressing his hoplite, holding his master's shield with its large 'A' in the center, the Spartans their 'L,' handing him his long spear as the trumpets sounded for all to fall into phalanx formation. Officers ran down the ranks shouting for a tighter formation. Soldiers, eight rows deep, stretched into the distance as far as Myrrhine could see.

Aeschylus ran off to join the phalanx, and as she watched him leave, she couldn't help wishing some Persian would kill him. She stopped her vengeful thoughts and chidden herself. "Forgive me, Kynegeiros," she said softly. "Don't punish me for the runaway anger."

Sophocles had stayed behind, and now he climbed to the top of the temple wall and called to Myrrhine. "Stretch out your hand," he said. "I'll help you mount the stairs. Look before us! We've a fortunate position here. The Persian host is clearly visible." Myrrhine helped Auroriana up the wall. Once there, Myrrhine saw the field ablaze with bronze, the fiery glint of polished iron, shield blazons.

"Look, priestess, a white horse," said Sophocles.

"It's the cousin of King Xerxes, Mardonius himself, come to lead the charge. I spoke with him only a few days ago."

Pausanias, at the right corner of the phalanx, shouted the order to march as long lines of red-and-blue plumes began to nod rhythmically. He cued the corps of auletes, the pipers, to toot the beat, and it moved forward, increasing the rhythm to move quickly past the zone of arrows as the rumble of their feet shook the ground. The unerring marksmen finally let loose their deadly darts. At that range, any man could die without encountering the enemy and without the opportunity of at least winning a glorious death.

With the Persian war cry, the Greeks broke out in song and struck up the paean, the great chorus of tuned voices raising the battle shout. Warriors couched their spears, the song heating every faint heart's blood to battle fever. As they marched, so they came closer to the Persian line and the louder they sang.

"Hie! Hie! Paean! To him we cry! Oh joy! Oh joy! May you never leave us. Cast out pestilence and bring valor and victory! Oh joy! Paean. Oh joy! Hie! Hie! Paean!" The force of their voices charged them forward, with the aulete piping the rhythm and melody.

"The crowd of Persians comes in full panoply," said Myrrhine. "It's my place to brace the temple gate. Eleusis was the last of Demeter's temples they'll desecrate."

Myrrhine descended the stairs, heart racing with fear. Did she have the courage? She assumed her station with young Sophocles at her side. She heard the unearthly clash of steel as the two forces collided, shrill cries telling of the wounded and maimed, the dying. The paean dissipated in the thud of battle. Spear met javelin, sword rung against dagger, as the two phalanxes thrust and writhed together in a grotesque deadlock dance. Desperate Persians took to catching Greek spears with their hands and breaking off the tips. Myrrhine was glad the battle raged at a distance.

Just as it appeared the two forces were headed for mutual annihilation, the formations broke, lines shattered, and warriors fell into lumps of agonizing, cursing humanity. The light-armed troops piled into the fray, and the blood-spilling masses drifted about the battlefield until they came directly before the temple of Demeter. A Persian spear hit the ground flat at Myrrhine's feet and scooted all the way to the temple wall. Arrows whistled overhead.

Myrrhine took a step back, her courage faltering, and bumped into Sophocles. Where would she muster the spirit to perform her task? She couldn't imagine the courage it took for the men to stand their ground against such odds. Her own husband had died in such a battle. What a man he must have been, the bravest of the brave, everyone called him.

Myrrhine stood facing the battling forces. Dressed in white, she was a stark presence glowing in sunlight amid the sacred glen's shadows. She raised her left hand to lift a lapel of her mantle, her long curls falling to her shoulders. About her head was a stephane of myrtle. To find strength, she prayed, her words cascading over the battlefield.

"O great goddess Demeter, bringer of seasons, she who causes seed to sprout from fertile fields so the whole of broad Earth teems with leaves and flowers, she whose holy rites bless those who have seen them, terrorize these barbarians, send your maelstrom of malevolent ecstasy, bring holy horror upon those who defiled your temple at Eleusis, punish..."

In the midst of her prayer, Auroriana came up behind her, using Myrrhine as her own human shield. Auroriana pointed off to the right. So it was that the man on the white horse came screaming into battle: Mardonius surrounded by his best thousand troops, flower of the Persian army. At the edge of a crag, a lone Greek crawled to its summit, raised a stone. As horse and rider passed beneath, he smote the general square upon the skull.

Myrrhine's prayer echoed among the din of war as the force knocked Mardonius from the white charger, laid bare the warm brain steaming. Mardonius crumpled into dust, flung wide his arms and panted away his life.

Still the battle raged, a victor nowhere in sight.

CHAPTER 27: Exile

Kallias flogged the four black horses drawing the chariot, his concentration broken only as he shouted to all they encountered, "Persians! Persians!" Along the bay he fled with Melaina, out of Eleusis with the open sea to their left and sunset turning from bright orange to dull gray before them. Melaina wondered if he'd run the horses to death. Great beasts they seemed, harbingers of the death from which they fled. She feared the child within her would be shaken from her womb.

Not until they entered the outskirts of Megara did Kallias let up to negotiate the shadowed city streets along the waterfront. He reined in the stallions at the ferry to Salamis and drove the chariot aboard the two-oared skiff without consulting the ferryman.

"Get us out of here!" Kallias shouted.

The aged ferryman stood sullen, unresponsive. A soiled garb hung by a knot round his shoulders, his hand upon the boatman's pole. His chin was an untrimmed grizzle, his eyes orbs of staring fire.

"Persians!" shouted Kallias walking among the horses trying to quiet them, and them blenching at his bellow. The horses were all eyes and trembling, nostrils flared, soapy foam soaking their flanks.

Melaina was glad to be aboard the ferry and stepped from the carriage realizing she was barefooted. She took the reins and tried to quiet the horses, huge gusts of breath coming from their nostrils.

The ferryman refused a sack of gold Kallias thrust on him. "Patience," the man said, "never does the ferry leave dock before time."

The dusky barge swelled with shouting passengers: matrons, boys and maidens, mothers panting pink from the run. As birds flock south when the fall chill fills the air, so Megarians came before the Persian flood, a migration seeking safety afloat the ferry.

Melaina looked along the coast to the bright flames rising above Eleusis wondering if her mother and grandfather had met their fate. And what of her companions? Tears streaked her cheeks as she thought of little Agido and Anaktoria. Everything had happened so fast that she could hardly believe she was alive herself. She owed her own safety a second time, plus that of her child, to Kallias.

The ferryman called out his destinations. "Who's for Salamis' westward tip? Who for Kerberia or Lethe's plain?" Melaina recognized the last two as references to the Underworld and thought it a grim joke.

Kallias left the reins with Melaina and chased after the ferryman, spouting a stream of oaths. "You pus bucket. I'm the Dadouchos with a priestess of the Mysteries to protect. Get us out of here!"

But the ferryman went about his business collecting fees and apportioning the deck to old men and mothers with children, refusing a herd of goats, one of sheep. Finally, he unfurled the small sail, loosed the tie lines, and signaled to the man at the poles. "Heave ahoy!" he shouted.

At the last moment, a runner carrying a torch jumped onboard. "Delphic fire!" the man shouted, "by order of the Archon Basileus."

They pushed off, two men at the stern alternately pushing and pulling at the handle, plying the long sweep-oar propelling the craft. Gradually, they moved away from dock into the black night. A torch at each end of the ferry cast an eerie glow onboard, but black water surrounded them. Flames spread along the coast as the Persians loosed wildfire on buildings, orchards, wheat fields. As the ferry crossed the Strait of Megara, the torches on dock at Salamis gradually emerged.

"Slow down! Easy!" shouted the ferryman as he loosened the halyards. "Push her to." They crunched into the dock, sending a shudder through the crowd and shaking the horses so they stumbled about and whinnied nervously.

Once offloaded, Kallias ushered Melaina quickly into the chariot and once again drove the horses with the whip, although the stallions' eagerness equaled his. The previous year, when he'd brought Melaina home from Brauron, they'd had young Sophocles to light the way, but now they charged blindly though the perilous night, courting disaster at every turn. Once off the peninsula, the surface improved and lights of small villages cast a dim glow across their path. A bay cut deeply through the island to the right of the road, and they entered a town at its edge, but Kallias kept the whip cracking.

When she saw refugees' tents dotting the roadside, Melaina knew they were approaching Samos Town. She'd seen it all last year. Kallias then slowed, picking his way through the crowds to the far shore and to the hill on the promontory from which Melaina had fallen during the battle of Salamis. He pulled up at water's edge. Here they needed no torches, for across the channel, all Athens was flame atop flame, lapping darkness from the firmament. Melaina remembered her mother's words that fire was the coinage between mortals and immortals. Melaina wondered if the gods had felt cheated by their puny sacrifices and wanted Athens and the whole of Attica sent to the Realm of the Divine. She could feel the heat and feared the earth and water themselves would catch fire, the world burn.

Kallias was quiet, staring off into the distant flames. Melaina wondered whether he viewed the fire only as a spectacle or truly sensed the loss. She glanced out the corner of her eye, knowing it was not proper to take in his presence fully. She saw the red glow reflected on his wet cheek, thought it glistening sweat, then realized the truth of it. Kallias was crying.

"Will you take me to Kleito, please?" she asked.

As they entered the women's quarters at Mnesarchides' home, Melaina heard loud voices and saw a distraught, fist-shaking Kleito standing before her husband. Kleito stabbed a finger at him while holding her truant son, Euripides, by the ear.

Little Euripides saw Melaina first and struggled from his mother's clasp, sacrificing his ear for the comfort of Melaina's arms. "I haven't the strength to lift you now, Euri," she said.

Seeing Melaina, Kleito screamed and rushed to her as if the rest of the world, husband included, had evaporated. She threw her arms around the girl. "We thought you were all dead. Your mother! Are you here without Myrrhine? And barefooted?"

Melaina told her of the narrow escape in Kallias' chariot and that they knew nothing of her mother's fate.

Kleito noticed Melaina's swollen abdomen. "I doubt anyone in Hellas doesn't know that the maid who gave the prayer the night before the battle of Salamis is pregnant by a god. The priests of Epidaurus claim you conceived there in the Abaton."

Kleito led Melaina to the hearth, piling on wood for light and heat. She locked the double doors to the women's quarters and ordered the maids to bring a chair and cover it with a heavy fleece. Kleito insisted upon examining Melaina, stripping the chiton with a force Melaina was powerless to resist. Kleito slackened the breastbands and let them slip free.

"You appear healthy enough, but signs indicating the baby's sex are confusing. You've excellent color and your right breast is enlarged, firm and full, as one would expect with a male child. But your left breast is equally large, perhaps even fuller, the nipple more swelled as with a female. Still, you're without the pallor. Is the baby's movement notable?"

"Vigorous at times. Slow, even sluggish at others."

"Strange. I've not seen all this except with twins, but signs are never certain. How's your movement?"

"Oh! Slow. I'm a cow!" She noted Kleito had adopted the mannerisms of the physician who examined her at Eleusis, his clipped questioning.

"Another sign of a female. What a bag of contradictions! You're past your eighth month, not a time to be jostled about in a chariot. I'm surprised you and the child survived intact."

It was late, and Melaina wanted to sleep, but Kleito wasn't about to let her rest. The woman pushed and poked at her abdomen until Melaina thought surely she'd injure the baby. Even the personal regions weren't beyond Kleito's scrutiny. Melaina had never seen such fuss even from a midwife. Kleito went to her chamber, and when she returned, held two white lumps. "Vaginal suppositories," Kleito said.

Melaina was vexed, blushed crimson. "But why?" she whined.

"Goose fat and marrow to relax the womb," added Kleito. With that, she spread Melaina's knees, felt the cleft with her fat warm hand and inserted the cold lumps, fidgeting as if something were wrong. "The vaginal covering is still partially intact. Astounding, considering your condition!" She pushed the suppositories home and proceeded inside to the orifice of the uterus, anointing it with her finger.

Melaina squinted and winced with pain. "The priest at Epidaurus told me no such membrane exists."

"Women's truth and what men think they know of it are two different things." Kleito sat beside her, content to stare at Melaina's face. "Some immortal certainly set your cheeks aglow." Kleito jumped into action again. "You sag!"

Kleito's head disappeared inside a chest but quickly reappeared with a broad linen bandage. She placed the middle under the bulk of child-filled abdomen, brought both ends round the sides, crossed them, laid them over Melaina's shoulders and fastened them in front on the encircling band. The contraption reminded Melaina of that she'd used on her grandfather following his ordeal with the irons. Kleito anointed the protruding abdomen with a cerate of green-olive oil and myrtle. "Toned skin doesn't break or wrinkle," she offered.

Finally, Melaina was laid down to sleep. A guarding maid sat at her bedside.

*

Next morning, Kleito found a pair of sandals for her, and Melaina paced, awaiting any word from Eleusis. Kallias stalked in the background, a dark shadow among stone walls outside the women's chamber. Kleito's maids hovered around Melaina. Mid-morning they heard a great flurry of activity from the slaves and the shouts of approaching men as Aeschylus entered the courtyard.

Aeschylus was more surprised at Melaina's presence on Salamis than she at his, and very pleased. "I thought the Persians had you for sure."

"My mother!" she cried. "Tell me of my mother."

"Safe!"

"Oh, what relief! Yet, your eyes betray some catastrophe."

"A tale to slaughter the heart."

"Oh, do tell me it's not Grandfather."

"Perished defending the Holiest of Holies. Cremated by its timbers."

She turned away. "And he'd just regained his health at such a terrible price. The others? Palaemon, my girlfriends? What of stout-hearted Sophocles?"

"The blacksmith and his slaves weathered Persian wrath. Sophocles saved your mother."

"My friends?"

"Agido, saved herself, her swift feet."

"Oh, the comforts amid such sorrow! Agido alive! But Anaktoria?"

"No word."

With that, Kallias drew Aeschylus aside and walked him back to the men's quarters, where they remained for sometime.

"War plans," Kleito said. "Carnage forever occupies men's minds."

When the men returned, Melaina approached her uncle. "Please. Return me to Eleusis. My mother mustn't go through this alone."

Aeschylus stared at her before answering, his great black eyebrows twitching. "You and your mother must go separate ways. Henceforth, you'll be with me."

"But my mother needs me, and I her. It's but a short distance by boat. Surely someone, a slave, could return me."

"You're no longer in your mother's care."

"I belong to my mother. Nature demands it."

"No. You were your father's daughter. At his death, you became mine."

"But surely I'm of no use. I'm always in the way. You know the trouble I cause. Aunt Philokleia, why she'd flog you herself for bringing me."

Aeschylus laughed. "You won't be long with us. I'm giving you to Kallias."

"What travesty is this? Enslaved within my own country? Is that the punishment I suffer for an unwanted pregnancy?"

"Not a matter of slavery but marriage. Your father willed it so on the battlefield, before his death."

Oh, no! she thought. She felt dizzy and wondered if she was to have a seizure. No wonder Kallias has always been there to pull me from death's clutches. "But he doesn't even like me." She saw a wry smile cross Kallias' face. "Besides...." She could never voice the fact that she herself didn't care for the man. "I'm to be exiled from Eleusis?"

"Not exile. Given a new life."

"I have no dowry. All I own is in ashes at Eleusis."

Kallias stepped forward. "I've seen to your dowry. That I was close to you when the Persians charged was no accident. You were being evacuated when they struck. My slave confiscated all the belongings in your chamber."

Melaina felt her face flush with rage. How dare he invade my privacy! she thought. How can I live with this man? Bear his children? She considered telling them of her epilepsy but knew that would mean disaster for her and the child. If what her mother told her were true, he'd never put up with such a defect. Anyway, if she'd been cured at Epidaurus, it was a useless argument.

Kleito took her hand. "I'll go to Myrrhine. But this news will greatly upset her. Not a burden she'll carry well along with the death of her father."

Melaina remembered her covenant with her father and felt shame that she'd tried to go against his command of marriage. Somehow, I'll have to swallow my pride and deal with this new, unimaginable circumstance.

Aeschylus spoke to Kallias. "Mardonius has retreated from Athens and Attica to move farther north and prepare for the final engagement. Hellene forces will muster at Eleusis before traveling north through the foothills of Kithaeron into Boeotia. If Mardonius does in fact pull all his troops out of Attica, we'll return to Athens immediately."

*

That afternoon, a squadron of Hoplites boarded boats and sailed the strait to Phaleron, Athens' seaport. They encountered no resistance among the city's smoldering ruins and sent back word, all was clear. The Greeks took back all of Attica without a blow. Families prepared to return to what was left of their homes. Kallias owned a commercial galley that was quickly loaded with household goods and shipped across the channel the following day. The refugees' migration home had begun.

Melaina said her good-byes to Kleito and little Euripides, bid Kleito tell her mother not to worry. When aboard ship, Melaina looked longingly to the north at the wisps of smoke drifting skyward above Eleusis. When would she ever see her mother again?

As the sea breeze chilled her cheeks, Melaina sensed the onset of another seizure. I've not been cured, she thought. She knew not when the frenzy would take her, only that it was a hidden, stalking presence. And when it did come, she'd be in the hands of those who knew nothing of her illness. Should she tell them? What if she was wrong, and this only some minor illness, perhaps the sniffles?

From the docks, Aeschylus and his family, now including Melaina, walked through the ashes of Phaleron and along the footpath to Athens, wails of returning residents growing with each step. Aeschylus put Melaina aboard an ox-drawn cart. As they traversed the ruins, Melaina fell to self-pity and tried to take stock of what had happened to her. I love freedom so much, she thought, and yet have not only been stripped of it, but also of my internal sovereignty. The gods have stolen my body and given my mind over to frenzy. Aphrodite has taken my heart and given it to Sophocles. Uncle Aeschylus has stolen me from my mother and given me to Kallias, and I'll spend the rest of my life in terrible Athens. What else can they take from me?

On they went, Melaina's despair growing with every step. Despondent old men, women and dogs, who'd been left behind during the evacuation and had survived, came to the side of the road to witness the return. Smoke trailed overhead and coals glowed in dark places. A chorus of dog howls filled the ruins.

In Athens, her uncle Aeschylus found his home without a roof and the stone walls pulled down, all but two rooms scorched. In these, Philokleia set up housekeeping although she screeched and raved. Slaves set to silently rebuilding. Miraculously, Kallias' home had been spared. The Persian generals had used it for their headquarters and left too quickly to have had time to work mischief on it.

A runner arrived, bearing a torch from the Archon Basileus, who'd decreed all sacred hearths extinguished to purge the city of Persian pollution and relit with Delphic fire. Melaina remembered the torch brought aboard the ferry at Megara. Runners with flame from that torch would now relight all Athens' sacred hearths.

While slaves unloaded household goods, Aunt Philokleia and her handmaids tried to salvage as much as possible. Though many slaves had evacuated with Aeschylus' household to Salamis, several had run off. Philokleia complained of having to set up housekeeping shorthanded. Melaina refused to enter her uncle's home. The flame inside her had also been extinguished. Where would she ever find a source to relight it?

CHAPTER 28: A Mistress for the Dadouchos

Melaina remained in the wagon outside, lapsing into a state of silent desperation. She was now in the hands of Aunt Philokleia, wife of her most vocal critic, her Uncle Aeschylus. She wished the Persians had captured her. She felt exiled, forced to take up unwanted residence on foreign soil. Athens is not my home, Melaina thought, nothing will ever make it home. Sitting alone in the wagon, she prayed against Kallias. "Oh most glorious Hera, grant not the dark wishes of a cruel heart."

Aeschylus returned, scooped Melaina into his arms and carried her inside. "You'll not be allowed to mope while the rest of us re-light the hearth," he said. "Your self-indulgent life is over."

After the slaves had cleared debris from Hestia's habitation, Aeschylus slaughtered a goat, prayed first to the hearth goddess for prosperity and happiness, and then to his ancestors to receive Melaina into their care as a new household member. He also asked divine Dionysus to provide guidance for her during the coming days.

Melaina's family ancestors were much the same as at Eleusis, her father being Aeschylus' brother, but she hadn't anticipated the loneliness she felt at no longer being in the care of Demeter and Kore. She hadn't thought much about her uncle's devotion to Dionysus, although it made sense. Dionysus was the patron god of theatre, and Uncle Aeschylus the most famous playwright in all Greece. Melaina had shied away from Dionysus, god of frenzy, wondering at times if he wasn't behind her epilepsy. Now I end up in a home where he's worshiped as the first god, she thought. She remembered her uncle's strange story of Dionysus coming to him in a dream and telling him to write tragedies.

Melaina took a deep breath and reassessed her situation. Since Athens had its own temple of Artemis Brauronia on the Akropolis as well as a school for girls, she wasn't needed as she'd been in Eleusis. But all was not lamentable. Her baby would now have a father. Provided Kallias would accept the child.

The longer she thought about it, the more Melaina wondered if her predisposition against Kallias clouded her reasoning. Let me take heart with my misfortune as might a philosopher, she thought. My soul, by its own nature, often adds heaviness to circumstance. Oh, if I only had my mother's pleasant disposition. Why be a lover of grief and fault-finding? Evenhanded Zeus doesn't administer misery to some in a gentle, well-tempered flow, and unleash on others an undiluted stream. I count upon myself only the worst of my lot. Kallias is the wealthiest man in Athens and will care for me with great extravagance.

Melaina hoped the marriage would take place in Gamelion, Hera's sacred month in the dead of winter and five months hence, as did most. But Kallias wouldn't let it rest, saying, "At the full moon." He would not tolerate the childs' arrival before they were joined.

"Tell my mother, so she'll be here to carry the torch," said Melaina.

"We'll see," said her uncle.

Reluctantly, Aunt Philokleia prepared for Melaina's wedding before they had the ashes scraped off the floors. Philokleia scoffed at the thought that Melaina was carrying a divine child. "Simple promiscuity," she said. She pumped Melaina for the name of the father. "Tell me!" she ordered. "We both know he's around here somewhere."

Melaina fell to crying and prayed that her mother might rescue her.

The evening before the marriage, Aeschylus and Philokleia took Melaina to the Akropolis, where they mounted the hill through the propylaea to the temple of Artemis Brauronia, badly desecrated by the Persians. Melaina had brought her childhood toys and deposited them at the altar: clay animals, dolls, noisemakers, knucklebones. Kallias had brought so many of her possessions, including all her trinkets, that she wondered if he'd scooped the dust from the floor. Kallias and his mother, Lady Hipparete, met them at the temple for the marriage preludes.

Melaina knew this would be her last chance, so she ran to Kallias. "Tell me of my father's promise," she said. "I must know his exact words when he give me to you."

Kallias stopped short and stared at her as though he'd like to smack her into the ground. But unaccountably, his glare softened. Still with considerable irritation, he spoke. "We'd pulled him from the Persian boat where he suffered the loss of his hand. He was in the physician's tent, very weak, and no one could stop the bleeding. I'd seen you only a few days before and knew what I beauty you'd one day be. I went to him even though the others had left him to his death. 'Give Melaina to me, Kynegeiros," I said, 'and forever you can trust that I'll be there when she needs you.' At first I thought he'd already died, but then his head turned slowly toward me. 'Take her, Kallias, when she comes of age. But if you mistreat her, I'll send a maelstrom of evils upon you from the Undergloom.' He then passed from us, and I shut his eyes."

Tears had filled her eyes during the telling. "Where were you the night I conceived this child?" she asked.

Kallias' face turned bright red, but he would not answer.

She shook her head at him but asked nothing more. They fell in with the rest and walked to the temple. As her father wished, so would she live.

As the sinking sun cast the giant shadow of the Akropolis across the group, Melaina stood before the altar, a dark veil pulled over her face, refusing to speak and tears rolling down her cheeks. The wind had kicked up, sending a scattering of ashes through the air. The temple, although in ruins, reminded her of that at Brauron and the terrible events of the previous year. Finally, Melaina steadied herself, dedicated her toys to Artemis, and stood ready to recite her prenuptial vows.

Except for one last thing.

Melaina looked down at her feet, the sandals Kleito had given her covered with ash. I can't do this, she thought, not without at least knowing how my child and I will be treated. She wished desperately to speak to Kallias alone. She took hold of his coat and pulled him aside. She thought, Holy Demeter, he really is a large man, all those muscles. "This business is troubling, Lord Kallias," she said. "What'll be my role in your home? How will my child be treated? Shall we be prisoners, slaves to those running it?"

"Oh no, my love!" A look of outrage flashed across his face. He smiled a little. "You'll be mistress of everyone living there. Your honor among Athenians will be the greatest and those who wrong you punished unless they propitiate forgiveness. You are a priestess and the daughter of Kynegeiros, hero of the battle of Marathon. You'll bring prestige to my household."

Melaina had never imagined any fate for herself, save as appendage to his mother. He called me, 'my love'? "What will be the role of my child in your home?" Again the thought crossed her mind that she had but to tell him of the epilepsy to end this. But she knew the consequences could be disastrous.

"Our home," reminded Kallias, "and our child." He pulled her even farther from the others. "Do not question my allegiance to this child, for its fathering is no mystery to me."

Melaina was astonished. "You know how I came by the child?"

At first, he looked bewildered, as if he didn't understand her. "I know of the fathering of divine children..." He stopped in mid sentence, unsure of his ground, then tilted his head back in a gesture of reassurance. "Then let me tell you something that will satisfy you, I'm sure, a story of my family, the Kerykes. We descend from Hermes. Hermes was also the sire of Odysseus' grandfather, Autolykos. Odysseus was my distant cousin. Laertes didn't sire Odysseus though he loved him dearly. It was cunning Sisyphus of Corinth who first lay in shameful promiscuity with Autolykos' daughter, Anticlea. Yet Laertes took the pregnant woman to wife and accepted the child, Odysseus, as his own. No one will blame me for doing so with our child. The question of the child's father is not a liability but an asset. Speculation runs rampant concerning which god fathered it. What man, who fears the gods, would deny shelter and parentage to a divine child, such as yours, ours."

Somehow this news disappointed Melaina. She'd hoped he'd give her an excuse to end this. But her heart now softened toward him, and she realized her dreams were gone. "Forgive my questioning, Lord. I'll not be so difficult henceforth."

The two rejoined the others.

Melaina took a deep breath and recited her prenuptial vow. "I earnestly swear to behave myself," she said, a note of irrepressible irritation flavoring her words, "to obey my husband and stay indoors, to dress as befits modesty and hold my tongue in public and private." She bitterly resented the staying indoors part. She so loved Helios' bright rays. Her one consolation was that she'd finally get to see her mother.

*

The following day, Melaina went with Aunt Philokleia and the maids, who seemed somehow afraid of her, to draw her nuptial bath from the Well of Nine Springs. After swearing to stay indoors, she longed to get into the open. She and the maids passed outside the city walls and along the grassy banks of the Ilissos, where Melaina slipped off her sandals, breathed deeply and sat cooling her feet in the quiet, shaded stream beneath an oak tree. The maids drew water while they whispered about her.

Melaina was familiar with the area because it was here that the lesser Mysteries were performed every year. Her mother always participated and brought Melaina. Initiates who wished to attend the greater Mysteries of Eleusis, but who'd committed murder or were otherwise in need of purification, first attended the lesser Mysteries. Melaina listened to the shrill voices of cicadas while resting her head on the soft grass. She felt the baby move. It had been unusually active the last few days, and she wondered if the chariot ride had upset it.

Today was Melaina's last as a free woman. She regretted having never been on her own, never experiencing her dream of living free as did Keladeine. She wondered why she hadn't heard from the young priestess. Melaina had sent the letter months ago.

After returning with the sacred water, Aunt Philokleia bid the bath-maids set a kettle on the fire and wash Melaina's feet. When the girls hesitated, she added, "Don't be afraid. She's not divine." She told another, "Pour a bath in the tub."

Melaina watched as the maids filled a bronze basin, first with cold, then hot water that glittered in firelight. She dipped her toes into the wet warmth. One maid loosed Melaina's long hair, handling it gently, and another scrubbed her feet, then helped her into the shallow tub. The bath-maids scrubbed her back and thighs with a tickly brush, laid her head back, and ran warm liquid through her silky hair. They stretched a fresh fleece for her to sit on, dried her with soft linen, and anointed her with golden olive oil.

Finally, the maids dressed Melaina for the ceremony. They brought forth a new white chiton with the midriff dyed purple from the blood of a murex snail. Over the chiton, she wore a himation that passed from the left shoulder under the right arm, the hem folded back over the cross strap to fall in zigzag folds. The rest of the garment hung over her torso and left thigh. They arranged her golden hair in concentric, smooth ridges over the top of her head, leaving two rows of scalloped ridges across her forehead in vertical locks. Behind her ears, the hair formed long wavy, corrugated locks, four falling forward over each shoulder. Her light eyebrows were darkened and rendered as arching chevrons. Coordinated patterns of red and green wound round her stephane, on the seam of her chiton, down her right arm, and on the border of her himation. She wore disk earrings, a pearl necklace, silver and gold bracelets on both arms, and a crown woven of myrtle.

Melaina's breasts bulged obtrusively, as did her abdomen, yet she stood and, using her left hand, clasped the folds of her chiton to the edge of her thigh, smoothing the skirt across her legs. The girls laced her sandals, although Melaina couldn't see them below her protruding tummy. Her belt was tied with a double knot, veil draped over her head and shoulders.

"What an object of delight!" cried the handmaids.

"Beautiful as Pandora," pronounced her aunt. "What a waste."

Melaina ignored the insult though she cried inside. Pandora was the first woman, created by Hephaestus and dressed alluringly by Aphrodite as a snare to men.

That evening, Uncle Aeschylus' torch-lit home swarmed with guests. All day Melaina anticipated her mother joining them, but when all were assembled, Myrrhine still hadn't arrived.

"Where's my mother? You promised," she said to her uncle.

"We searched all Eleusis but couldn't find her."

"Postpone the wedding," she declared.

"No!" he cried. "We've a war to fight. No time for women's business after this evening."

Melaina sunk deeply within herself. What a travesty!

Uncle Aeschylus stood before the hearth of Hestia, Kallias beside him, and sacrificed to Hera. He slit the throat of a lamb, let it bleed over the slaughter stone, then removed the gallbladder and threw it to the dogs, thereby signifying that neither gall nor anger should play a part in the marriage. Aeschylus prayed. "Dear Hera, the cream of whose breasts lights the milky circle of stars spread across the heavens, goddess of the divine yoking of mortal couples, bring the fulfillment of every woman's destiny to Melaina, and sanctify this couple's marriage."

Melaina maintained her head and eyes downcast to connote modesty, shame, and submission, as she knew she must, all her bracelets rattling nervously.

Kallias stood tall beside her. As Dadouchos, torchbearer of the Mysteries, Kallias was dressed in priestly-garb, black wavy mane flowing down his back and bound at the temples by a strophion. His sleeveless chiton reached midway between knee and ankle, a row of embroidered red dots circling the hem. Over the chiton, he wore a heavier, sleeveless pullover, decorated with a scattering of blue circles, and bound at the waist by a green-chevroned sash. A stole-like military mantle, typical garb for horsemen, passed beneath the sash.

Such a splendid, regal-looking man, Melaina thought, how can I not love him? But she didn't. She preferred the striking image of young Sophocles astride his horse, torch in hand, as she'd seen him leading the way back from Brauron.

Aeschylus spoke words of transference. "I give Melaina over to you, Kallias, for the plowing and sowing of legitimate children."

The couple tipped cups of wine into flame and drank deeply.

Kallias reached toward Melaina, who lifted her left arm as if to ward off a blow. He grabbed her by the wrist in the customary ritual gesture of matrimonial possession. Melaina cried out, and the women accompanying her pretended to defend her, but Melaina wasn't kidding. She stared daggers through her veil, hot anger welling up inside her, and tried twice to jerk her wrist from Kallias grasp. Her hatred of him rekindled in one last flaming before being extinguished.

In the deep darkness outside, Kallias, his golden chariot hooked to the four handsome horses, hefted Melaina aboard, where she stood at his elbow, face still covered with the veil. He gave a flick to the horses, as they pranced with streaming manes through the labyrinthine streets. The dark ashes of Uncle Aeschylus' home disappeared behind as Kallias kept the harness shaking all the way. The nuptial torch preceded the car, and a chorus came behind singing hymns.

"Ho, Hymen! Ho, Hymen! Hymenaeos! Io!" So ran the refrain with aulos and lyre keeping up the tune. Aunt Philokleia, frowning but acting in Myrrhine's place, followed the procession holding a lighted torch in each hand. Women came streetside to stare at their passing.

At Kallias' home, his mother, Lady Hipparete, smiling and looking not much older than Melaina's own mother, greeted the couple at the threshold. Philokleia passed her the two torches. Melaina feared Hipparete greatly, knowing the woman would be living with them.

Melaina and Kallias stood before the door. An inscription above the lintel read, 'No evil enters here!'

"Pai! Pai!" called Kallias.

Melaina heard the clunk of bolts and bars, the groan of hinges as the doors swung inward. A foreign-born porter stood before them, a eunuch, who viewed them suspiciously, as if he didn't recognize his own master.

"Step aside, Pai," said Kallias.

As they came into the entryway, a cornucopia of dates, nuts, figs, and dried fruit was upended and showered over Melaina, whose face was protected by her veil. She was greeted by Kallias' dog, which had profusely-foaming jowls and a snakelike tail. The dog squinted at her through loose rolls of hanging skin. He licked Melaina's fingertips and then her toes through her sandals.

"Away, Argos!" shouted Kallias.

At his father's death, Kallias had inherited the family home and everything within, and he had become priest of the hearth. To become hearth priestess, Melaina had to sacrifice at his fire. Melaina had never seen more elaborate homage paid to Hestia. The hearthstone was of such size, it could only have been laid by a Cyclops. Flames roared within its confines.

Melaina hated herself for being in a house of plenty when so many throughout Athens were decimated.

Kallias said to her, "I realize Demeter and Kore have been your family gods, but in my home, we worship Hermes, from whom my family descended, and Hades, Lord of the Underworld."

Myrrhine felt a chill pass through her. "No one worships Hades. He deals not with the living."

Kallias at first looked hurt but recovered quickly. "We worship him as Plouton, the bringer of wealth."

Melaina felt like resisting further, but knew it was hopeless. Plouton was Kore's husband. She'd best keep her mouth shut or risk insulting the dark goddess. Besides, Kallias had been amply rewarded for his worship.

After she sacrificed a lamb to Plouton, Kallias dipped his fingertips in a bowl and sprinkled Melaina with lustral water while praying to Hermes as he held her hand over the flames until she felt as though the heat would singe her nails. Kallias closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but still held both their hands over the fire. He mumbled something she couldn't discern, then prayed aloud again, this time to Hades.

The company then gathered closely about for Melaina's unveiling. Finally, she'd be allowed to look Kallias in the eyes. This was the beginning of her disrobement and signified sexual submission, taming. She let out a sigh.

Melaina fingered the edge of her veil, pulling it up and back to expose her clustered curls and blushing cheeks, as she looked upward, her eyes meeting those of Kallias. She'd always heard of the emotion the wedded couple felt for each other at that instant, that the man felt Eros break his knees, as might those wounded in battle, since the bride's glance was supposed to be irresistibly erotic. Kallias' eyes were deep-black, pupilless pools, revealing an inner darkness of the soul that Melaina thought must link him directly to the Realm of the Dead.

Melaina felt nothing of the devastating effect of Eros, even caught herself about to laugh. She remembered the first time she'd looked into Sophocles' subtle-blue eyes and longed for that feeling. But Kallias was sweating. "Great Zeus," he said, "such penetrating blue I've never seen but in the depths of the Aegean. Long have I avoided your eyes, knowing your gaze would be fatal, as was the gaze of the Amazon queen Penthesilea, who overwhelmed Achilles even as his blade delivered the fatal blow."

Kallias and Melaina then shared a fertility cake of sesame seeds and honey, and she gave him a tunic she'd woven herself. From her dowry, which Kallias had brought from Eleusis, Melaina displayed her loom-work containing all the necessities of home: carpets, wall coverings, hangings, curtains, and embroideries for every surface. Melaina's skill and diligence would definitely add to the honor of the house.

Kallias' mistress of stores brought provisions of bread and wine along with victuals fit for kings. Now the feast would begin.

"Kallias," said Melaina, remembering the devastation she'd witnessed on the way from Salamis, "it's not right that we should eat while others starve. Have the slaves take some into the street and disperse it to those decimated by the war. We'll never miss it."

Kallias thought about this a moment and so ordered. "You've a kind heart to give up part of your marriage feast," he told her. In a wine bowl, Kallias mixed water with sweet red wine mellowed eleven years before his eunuch uncapped the jar. He poured his offering, prayed to Hera, daughter of royal Kronos. The others also made libation and drank deep.

When the festivities ended, all the company retired to their quarters, and Kallias and Melaina to their inner chamber. Melaina carried a blood-red pomegranate into the wedding chamber and ate from it, as had Kore when abducted into the Underworld by Hades. The eunuch stood guard at the door, gatekeeper to the marriage chamber. Girls were brought forward to stand outside it, singing wedding songs. Melaina cried at this because they should have been her closest friends, Agido and Anaktoria.

When Kallias asked about her sadness, she told him not to worry. She was only lamenting not knowing the fate of her friends.

"Melaina, you seem docile and sufficiently domesticated to carry on a conversation. Still, I realize you come to me barely fifteen, seeing, hearing and saying as little as possible. Such is the way girls are raised, so I won't expect much. Why, what could I expect of someone who knows nothing of camels?"

"I hope you won't forever hold the fell beast against me, my lord. But I would like to know what you do expect of me."

"Let me explain how marriage works," he said, seeming to take great pride in his role as teacher. "The gods, with divine discernment, have coupled together male and female in mutual service, adapting the woman's nature to the indoors and man's to outdoors. I have considerable land not far from here. I'll work at the open-air occupations: ploughing, sowing, and planting."

Melaina looked at him from the corners of her eyes, unable to imagine Kallias working the fields. This sounds like something he's memorized, she thought.

"You must work at things done under roof, nursing infants, baking bread, weaving. Your tasks resemble those of queen bee, staying in the hive without suffering idleness. Those who work outside, you'll send forth, and that which they bring in, you'll receive and apportion just shares. You'll preside over care of the little ones, and later, just like young bees duly reared, you'll send them forth to found new colonies."

"I'll do my best," she said, but still had to smile.

"I assure you, dear, you'll have pleasant duties rewarding the useful members of our household and punishing anyone revealed to be a rogue. Together, we'll have friends from all of Athens' great families."

"Sophocles and his father?" she asked.

"Sophocles? Forget him," he said, drawing his brows together. "His father has wealth, but Sophocles isn't an aristocrat, doesn't know how to throw his cloak over his shoulder from left to right."

Melaina yawned. "I'm tired. The baby weighs heavy upon me."

"To bed with us then. I'll strip off and work the land," he said removing his robe.

"My lord! Consider the child!" She reached for the sack of sneezing power the physician from Kos had given her. "It'll not suffer you entering my womb."

"What's a marriage without consummation?"

She inhaled the white powder, sneezed ferociously. "True," she admitted, then sneezed twice more. "Still, if you take me, it'll not be in the interest of the child."

"What is this fit that's come upon you? Are you sick?"

"Simply a precaution... something a physician gave... ." She didn't know what else to say. "Aids the development of the fetus," she lied.

"Disgusting." Kallias removed the nuptial blanket from their bed. "Then we'll not need this. I'd so hoped to weave our souls beneath this tapestry. But promise you'll not tell anyone that the marriage hasn't been consummated." He lay beside her, but presented his back. "Point your nose the other way. I'll not have you spraying me."

Melaina felt lonely and didn't want him angry with her. "Dear Kallias," she said, "don't sulk these few weeks until the baby comes. Still love me, and the anticipation will make future coupling that much the sweeter."

"You conjure limb-gnawing passion, then cast me aside."

But Kallias, son of Hipponicus, rolled over, caught her up in his arms, and they lay together, drawing the covers about them like a golden cloud. Melaina slept within the arms of her husband, the Dadouchos, torchbearer of the ancient Mysteries, her passion unaccountably stirred, and feeling in his arms a comfort she'd never thought possible.

*

Next morning before sunrise, Aeschylus rattled at the gate. Melaina heard the eunuch arguing with him at the front door and the dog, Argos, whining to see him. "Come in if you must," the eunuch finally said, "but you can't stay long."

Kallias rose quickly, and Melaina heard the men argue in the courtyard. Kallias then returned with wrinkles across his brow, but wouldn't tell the trouble. He left with Aeschylus, Argos nipping Aeschylus' heels until Kallias cuffed him. The hollow sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance.

Melaina took the opportunity to survey her new home. She'd never seen one kept so dark. Out back, she saw orchards enclosed by stone walls, two hectares of trees weighted down for picking: pears, pomegranates, brilliant apples, luscious figs. Water channels ran from a clear fountain, while another gushed under the courtyard entrance. What luck, the Persians hadn't defiled any of it.

Lady Hipparete came from her chamber sleepy-eyed to greet Melaina. She wore a pleasant smile but wrinkled brow, definitely without the spark she'd exhibited last night. Perhaps she's not pleased to have me as daughter-in-law, Melaina thought. "Is the Persian threat troubling you, or is it something about me?" Melaina asked.

Hipparete was quiet, unanswering. Melaina watched the dark sympathetic eyes set in the woman's small oval face framed by curly black hair. Her son had taken his looks from her, so different from Melaina's own light-complexioned, blond-haired mother, easy and quiet, almost simple, without the nervous intelligent eyes. Melaina felt an unexpected comfort in Hipparete's presence.

Finally, Hipparete spoke. "I hope you'll be happy here in Kallias' home. It was mine until Hipponicus died, and I've stayed on to govern it until Kallias married. Many times, when the daughter-in-law takes over, she puts her husband's mother out in the street. My dowry is not large, and I hope you'll find use for me. I'm good with slave girls, a little weak at weaving, to be honest about it, but quite good with the ovens."

Until speaking with Kallias last night, Melaina had not dreamed of having such power over the household, and now this. Kallias' mother feared her. "Put your mind at rest," Melaina said. "As long as I'm mistress, you'll have a place in my home." Melaina took her mother-in-law's cold hands in both of her own, warmed them, saw tears in her eyes. "And as for the baking, I hate the heat. Weaving is my one talent. A perfect match, we'll be."

*

Late that afternoon, Kallias returned, and Melaina was anxiously awaiting him. "Any word of my mother?"

"She's been behind Persian lines searching for you. When the Hellene army heard, it created a sensation, and she's been quite a storehouse of reconnaissance. She's not pleased I've wedded you without her."

"No doubt. But how happy you've made me with word of her. This one bit of news gives me renewed life."

"Your mother retrieved six Eleusinian women from Mardonius. The mother of Agido was among them."

"And Anaktoria?"

"Not that I heard."

"At least Agido is not an orphan. But none of my jubilance rubs off on you. Trouble clouds your eyes."

"It's not you weighting my mind but the fate of Hellas. While Mardonius has retreated to Boeotia, the danger is not over. A great land battle looms. We've word of an oracle from Delphi that Hellenes will win if we fight before a temple of Eleusinian Demeter. Such a temple has been found on the feet of Kithaeron, and your mother has gone to resurrect the abandoned sanctuary. But another battle may take place in the Aegean. How it could be fought before a temple of Demeter is beyond me. I must join the fleet to inform them of this impossible imperative. I've three triremes outfitted for battle and tomorrow must sail for Delos, where the fleet harbors."

Melaina took this news much harder than she'd have expected. She didn't want her husband off at war. She dizzied, staggered, and dropped to one knee. She felt a small spasm in her throat, a heightened sense of awareness.

"Your eyes," Kallias said, "that heavy, lost look. Trouble with the child?"

Melaina rose to her feet and threw her arms about his neck. "My lord! Don't be angry. If you've compassion in your heart, find some for me now."

"What have you done?"

"It's not what I've done, but what I'll do."

"Pray quit speaking riddles. Is it a prophetic trance?"

"No! I have the sacred sickness."

His eyes still questioned. "Your cheeks quiver."

Lady Hipparete entered the room.

Melaina ran to her. "I haven't much time," she said. "You know the falling sickness?"

"Yes," she replied, "I've seen it in a neighbor's slave."

Kallias spoke to his mother. "Is she ill?"

"See this stays between my teeth." Melaina bit down hard on a leather strap.

CHAPTER 29: The Vision

Consciousness came slowly to Melaina, a gathering of great clouds of confusion. She heard shouting, the scurrying of feet, saw shapes flitting about, shades. Have I gone to the Underworld? she wondered. Although the phantoms slowly became people, she recognized no one. She felt a great urgency to speak but couldn't. She slept.

Finally, Melaina opened her eyes but felt them oscillate uncontrollably. She hated Kallias seeing her like this so soon after being married. Even when she did manage to control her eyes, she could see from only one, so she kept the other closed.

Trying to collect her thoughts, she looked up at Kallias through her one good eye. "My mother described it," she said, "as similar to the sight of an ox whose throat has been cut: arms cramped, the head drawn back, and legs kicking in all directions."

"Much worse," Kallias said, standing back from her. "Your cheeks trembled, and your whole head swelled red. We had difficulty keeping the strap in your mouth. Your tongue protruded as might a mad person's. I was afraid you'd bite it off. Even after you came to your senses, you denied knowing me."

Hipparete took Melaina by the hand. "It lasted only a short while. Some say only the great have this affliction. The twelve labors caused it in Herakles." She looked at Kallias, "Don't lose your feeling for your young mistress. She'll bring you great glory."

But Kallias turned on Melaina. "Why did I not hear of this before the wedding? Look at you! One eye still squints."

"If you only knew my sleeplessness with this same thought, my lament not knowing if I still had it. I've been to Epidaurus for treatment and cured, so the priest said, only now to have the affliction return."

Kallias threw his arms into the air. "Great Zeus, what have you done to me? Oh, Mother! Forever I'll regret that day on the plane of Marathon when I asked and Kynegeiros gave his only daughter to me. Since then, I've been followed by jealousy of my wealth, laughed at because my wife comes to me already pregnant, and I now reap this new shame. This intolerable affliction."

Melaina said, "Though the seizures are a fright to look upon, Lord Kallias, they are a divine moment. I live a lifetime in an instant amidst a sacred warmth higher than love, fuse with the divine as if set afire. All doubt and troubles disappear."

"These feelings are a warning of the coming madness?"

"Warnings come for bad things. 'Tis a gift and sometimes contains a prophecy."

"I'll not tolerate it. A hopeless sickness is better off in Hades."

Melaina dropped to one knee before him. "I implore you, Lord. Don't abandon my child and me because of these troubles. You chose me, not I you. Horror was my first thought when learning you were to be my husband. But in these short days, I've developed a fondness for you. Live with this new knowledge a while before condemning me. Perhaps I'll be an asset in the end."

"She's spoken well, Kallias," said Hipparete. "Hate this odious disease, but not the afflicted. Take pity, my son, and reap great sympathy for it!"

"Remember you promise to my father," Melaina said.

Unannounced, Kallias' eunuch entered the room, a male slave hot on his tracks. "Trouble, Kallias," said the eunuch.

"What? In the name of Hades!" shouted Kallias, turning on the slave as if to strike him. "Now the whole of Athens is to know my evil fortune." He then turned on the eunuch. "Well you've already let the bastard in, and here with women present." He turned back to the slave. "Speak, you son of swine! If it's that important, say it here, in front of the women."

"Lord Kallias, two triremes are fully manned, oarsmen, hoplites, and archers, but the third is five short a full complement of deck hands. They quibble over the wage."

"They're fully rationed?" Kallias visibly calmed.

"Indeed. Though short an anchor on one and a sail on another."

"Stand at the gate. I'll join you shortly. These boat rowers will bankrupt me yet."

Kallias turned back to Melaina, but his mother stopped him from speaking.

"Let this matter rest, dear Kallias. See to your ships. Let your distemper cool."

"My distemper!" Kallias threw up his hands. "She's not been in my home a day and already has my own mother speaking against me. I will go to the docks. But rest assured, I'll settle this when I return." He strode from the chamber.

Lady Hipparete quickly took Melaina by the hands, saying, "I'll talk sense to him. We can't allow this grievous mistake."

Melaina said, "I hadn't remembered it until now, but the instant before the seizure consumed me, that splitting pain, I had another vision. It'll take a while to learn its meaning. Forgive me, Lady Hipparete. I must retire to a quiet place and think."

*

Melaina went into seclusion beneath a shaggy oak in the meadow of Kallias' garden. This beautiful setting is now mine too, she thought. She listened to the rustle of leaves while roaming crag and cliff of memory to retrieve an impression that occurred the instant before the pain came. Therein was an image, a frightening one, of herself large as a Cyclops, bounding across the waters of some bottomless sea into dark oblivion. She'd found it, thought it out. Now she needed Kallias desperately.

But as the afternoon wore on, she couldn't shake Kallias' words. "I'll not tolerate it," he'd said, meaning her, her illness. She contemplated what Keladeine at the Isthmus had told her, that at times our lives parallel the ancient myths and wreak great havoc. Melaina remembered that Iphigeneia's father had brought her to Aulis under the pretext of marrying her off to Achilles, only to learn that she was instead to be sacrificed to Artemis. After her initial protests, Iphigeneia had gone to the slaughter stone willingly, giving her life for Greece. Melaina thought, I'll not be sacrificed, but I've certainly suffered a marriage tragedy.

Late evening, a rattle at the gates brought Kallias' voice calling the eunuch, "Pai! Pai!"

Roused from her thoughts, Melaina ran to him.

Kallias said, "Good that yours is the first face I see. I've made a decision."

"Never mind that, dear Kallias, though already I see the negative thought chiseled in your face. The fate of Hellas must be weighed first."

"Contemplating the affairs of state is not the lot of women."

"But the gods sometimes reveal their designs to women. It's the Pythia that sits astride the tripod at Delphi, not a priest. If you'll not allow this truth, then tell the Pythia to dismount, silence Apollo's voice."

Kallias lowered his eyes, studied the ground. "Point well taken. I'll grant a short audience on this."

"Just before the seizure you witnessed, I had a vision, as I always do. I was stone-stepping in a sea, striding from island to island."

"Childhood memories. Game playing only."

"A game's likeness surely, but with a deeper meaning. One island was Delos, the other Samos. I crossed them in two steps, as would a goddess, and saw smoke billowing from Samos. Then I came to a mainland where a great battle took place."

Kallias' shoulders slumped. He turned away from her and talked to the walls. "Father Hermes, who is this woman you've sent? Ever she plagues me. Twice I've been burdened with saving her from Persians, and now comes the pestilence of being married to an ever-chattering Pandora who thinks she's a goddess."

"That's not so, Kallias!" Melaina had tried to check her voice, but still it scolded. "Simply a vision, never had I a thought of being divine. Word of a battle between Hellenes and Persians to liberate Ionia, though it comes from a woman, cannot be ignored. I'd remind you that in ancient times all prophets were women."

This last remark stopped Kallias cold, and a worried look crossed his bearded face. "I'd hoped you'd speak deranged, but how am I to dismiss words that make sense, even if they come from a mad woman?"

"Sorry, Lord. I've no desire for inducing distress."

"You know of Ionia's request for liberation? This spring, an embassy from Chios came first to Sparta, then Aegina, where the fleet mustered. The ambassadors requested assistance for their revolt against Xerxes, saying the unexpected, that the Persian fleet was still in the Aegean."

"I know nothing of these things, Lord."

"Then your vision is all the more puzzling. We'd thought the Persian fleet would return home, and planned only for a land war. Now we're ever on guard against attack by sea. If we don't clear the Aegean of the Persian fleet, Hellas will forever live in fear. Yet our fleet can't be coaxed further than Delos, trepidation standing sentry over the dark water between."

"Listen, Lord Kallias. I see our fate clearly now and know what must be done. Don't be angry if I speak forcefully, but you must understand. Several months ago while on the way to Epidaurus I had a seizure, same as that you witnessed, wherein I saw two great land-battles, one hereabouts with Mardonius and another on a foreign shore. I know now the first will be at Plataea, surely that of which you spoke earlier, where my mother has gone. So far, I'd not been able to understand the second, but now, in light of my vision, I realize it will take place in Ionia, on the coast of Asia."

"Oh, if I could be sure this isn't just baseless speculation from a pregnant girl overestimating the trivialities of her own thoughts. By the gods, and it comes before a seizure."

"I'll remain silent henceforth, Lord Kallias. I only ask that you tell the generals of my vision. Much is at stake, and the gods have spoken."

Kallias thought for a moment, then answered though his voice had lost confidence. "If Eurybiades and Themistocles still commanded the fleet, perhaps. But now the Spartan king Leotychides has supreme command with Xanthippus leading the Athenians. They haven't Themistocles' courage and will resist budging from Apollo's sacred isle."

"I know this General Xanthippus," Melaina said. "He's expressed respect for me." She was silent a moment, then her conviction again flared. "Oh, they must fight, Lord Kallias! The gods will it. They demand it. Change their minds. Affirm divine will!"

Kallias' voice became conciliatory. "Long have I also thought Ionia's alliance crucial to Hellas' security but could never find sympathetic ears. I remember your performance last year when we needed a sign for the generals to keep the fleet on Salamis, and again the night before the sea battle. You've become a symbol of divine intervention to many. If these visions are truly sent by the gods, I must take you to the generals."

"Surely, your voice is the one to sway them. Besides my mind is still cloudy from the seizure."

"You'd have a day or so of traveling to recover. The voice of the visionary would be more influential."

"I'd not speak to them here in Athens?"

"No." Kallias thought a moment. "At Delos. My three ships leave late tonight. I have but to give word for you to board." He walked away slowly, stopped and turned back. "Are you up to such a voyage? Would the unborn permit it?"

"Such a sailing is indeed frightening, Lord, for my sake as well as the child's. But I admit that, since surviving the chariot racing to flee the Persians, a sea voyage would seem trivial." She also longed to once again be aboard a trireme.

"The generals have dallied about on Delos all summer, through the good-sailing months, lacking the courage to engage the enemy. They must hear your prophecy."

*

Late that night as they left for the docks, Kallias' mother threw her arms about her son and clung to him, weeping, knowing he would soon see battle. When Kallias broke away, Hipparete fell upon Melaina, squeezing her tightly and refusing to release the fond bonds of her arms. Finally, Kallias and Melaina stepped out into the dark, stars sparkling overhead. Melaina saw Aquila, constellation of the Eagle, the bird sacred to Zeus that he sent to eat out Prometheus' liver. She tightly clutched the Broach of Arrogance given her by Palaemon that now held together her cloak. She saw agony chiseled across Kallias' dark brow and wondered if he was reconsidering taking her. What if she had a seizure in front of the generals?

The docks were not as empty as she anticipated. Kallias' triremes were being outfitted for war and a thirty-oared galley loaded with supplies, but several other triremes, in for repairs, were to set sail with them. She heard the shouts of hoplite commanders, boatswains, and the echoing thud of dowel pins being hammered into place, the trills and whistles of flutegirls. She smelled the sharp odor of fresh pitch and saw its brown smoke rising from cauldrons sitting over glowing coals.

Before they boarded, Kallias called the crew and soldiers together and offered a prayer. "Hear, O King Hermes, father of my fathers, protector of all those on dark journeys, guide these ships along with my comrades safe and sound thither to Delos, thy brother's sacred isle, and back again to this great city. Then will we honor you once more, singeing fat-wrapped thighbones on your altar. Accept our sacrifice and protect us on this voyage, making the breeze soft upon our sails."

As he spoke, Kallias scattered barley meal, slew a sacred goat, and placed its entrails on the fire. "Prepare for departure!" he shouted.

A buzz of voices ran through the company of hoplites, armor clanging their excitement. "Listen!" Kallias said. "They remember you. The maiden at Salamis, who sent them into battle so well, is to go with them to Delos. What power you hold over people."

A priest of Apollo boarded with them and went astern, adorned it with a garland, and prayed. Then the hawsers were lifted from the landing lugs, and the ship drifted out of the slip. The boatswain poured blood-red wine into the sea, and the keel sank deep into the black water.

CHAPTER 30: The Council of Generals

The trireme rocked down the dark coast of Attica as the full moon rose. Melaina stood at the poop deck beside Kallias, watching the sleek triremes alongside theirs as they sliced through the sea. Although Melaina had told Kallias she could make the voyage and had believed it herself at the time, she now couldn't get the baby off her mind. She was in her ninth month and felt larger than she should, the child riding lower than normal.

Kallias was quiet beside her, pensive beyond his nature. Melaina felt lonely standing beside him and longed for her mother. But she remembered their wedding night in bed together, the warmth she'd felt lying next to him.

Shortly, they came to Cape Zoster where, back in primordial time, divine Leto had almost given birth to Artemis and Apollo. Leto, seduced and abandoned by Zeus, managed to drop her girdle on the coast there, but Hera, in all her jealous wrath, prevented Leto from delivering. Leto traveled further into the Aegean, the direction in which Melaina and the triremes headed now. As the dark land mass drifted behind them, Melaina saw a line of torches on the narrow sand spit, standing like a girdle across the Cape's waist, the land cinched to nothing where great reefs of dark cliff had tumbled to lie partially submerged in surf. The binding of Melaina's own abdomen felt too tight. She loosened Kleito's linen bandage, so the straps wouldn't dig into her shoulders.

On they sailed, the sky in the east turning pink, and at the windswept southern tip of Attica, Cape Sounion, Melaina saw the glowing temple of Poseidon, the stark marble columns towering over the cliffs of the headland, bathed in glorious sunrise. She knew that the silver mine at Laurium was not far inland. The slave children, the worms, she'd seen at Eleusis, worked the mine, and it had provided financing for the Athenian fleet. All that suffering, she thought, the suffering of children.

From the tip of Sounion, Kallias' little convoy slipped between the islands of uninspiring Kythnos, as well as mountainous, fertile-valleyed Kea. Past these islands, the triremes plunged into the heart of the Cyclades, the Aegean turning deep blue with the afternoon sun burning down upon the fleet.

Dark-maned Poseidon, divine ruler of the sea, had formed the islands himself, smiting mountains on the mainland with his three-forked sword fashioned by the Telchines. He then lifted them from their foundations as with a cleaver, rolled them into the sea, and rooted them in deep waters, all except Delos, which he left floating.

By mid-afternoon, the triremes sailed above the arid northern tip of rocky Syros, and passed south of Tynos' purple peaks just before sundown while the flat island of Reneia loomed to the right. Mykonos was beyond Reneia with Delos, their destination, between the two, close set by Reneia's eastern coast.

Ancient myths told of winds tossing Delos about on waves, but when Leto set foot on it, four lofty pillars rose from Earth's roots to hold the rock on their capitals. Leto gave birth to her divine offspring as she clung to a palm tree, knees resting on soft meadow grass that rose to form the base of Mt. Kynthos. Artemis was born first, then assisted her mother with the delivery of Apollo. Thereafter, the gods hailed the isle as the far-seen star of dark-blue sea. The twenty-one islands of the Cyclades were as a dancing chorus circling Delos, the crown of Apollo.

As the triremes rounded the northern tip of Reneia, Melaina saw warships dotting the sea beyond, patrols far out among the islands. But before her lay the small sacred isle, divine Delos, hordes of Greek soldiers roaming its shores, and battleships lining its coast. They entered the strait between the two islands, the beaches crowded with triremes, galleys, and fishing boats. Some had grounded on sand. Others docked alongside the mole of massive granite blocks forming the ancient harbor's breakwater.

Melaina had known that rocky Delos was small, but never expected this tiny, wind-swept, wave-beaten haunt for gulls. She could see past its southern tip not far in the distance, and its width was hardly more than a good walk. Kynthos, in her imagination a gigantic snow-capped peak, was but a hill, a rugged brown mass rising twixt two mounds. Kynthos was Artemis' sacred mountain from which the priestess Kynthia at Brauron had taken her name. Melaina saw the gleaming columns and walls of the sanctuary in the middle of a low-lying plane close to the harbor, the sun glowing on its marble columns.

Kallias finally stirred from his trance. "No mariners pass Delos, not even when in great haste, without going ashore and dancing for Apollo," he said. "Even before the Trojan War, this island was sacred."

They sailed into harbor, furled the sail, and oared the ship stern-first into dock. A priest of Apollo met Kallias and Melaina, stood in her path.

"No pregnant women," he said.

"She's a priestess," said Kallias.

The priest scanned her top to bottom. "She's too far along. I can't allow it."

"She's come with prophecies for the fleet."

"During birth, a human soul traverses the gulf separating our world from that of the gods. Screams and anguish of human suffering contaminate our communication with Apollo."

"Lord Kallias," Melaina said, taking hold of his arm, "perhaps I can ease his mind. May I speak?"

"If you can stay this man's antagonism. Please."

"I've witnessed this same prohibition at Epidaurus," she said. "I love Apollo and would never defile sacred Delos. I'll leave with the first labor pain."

"She'll not be here long. A couple of days only," added Kallias.

The priest hesitated. "As yet, we don't have an official order against it. Still, she should sleep aboard the boat."

"I'm a priest myself, Dadouchos of the Mysteries. I'd tolerate that for a slave, but not a priestess."

The priest turned to Melaina. "A merchant ship leaves for Athens tomorrow morning."

"She'll return when the generals say so," said Kallias. "Not before." He took Melaina's arm, and the two walked past the priest.

"First sign of labor," he shouted after them, pointing west. "All women give birth on Reneia."

They entered the sanctuary through the propylaea and entered a fan-shaped courtyard bordered by temples and filled with hordes of milling warriors. From across the way, a men's choir sang and danced, accompanied by an aulete, his music swept about by wind gusts. To Melaina's right stood a gigantic statue of Apollo, the god depicted nude, left foot forward, arms free and bent at the elbows. His head rose above the two-story buildings. When they reached the middle of the courtyard, Melaina turned back to see the great marble Apollo dwarfing the entire complex, outlined by Kynthos' dark craggy peak in the distance.

Kallias wasted no time presenting Melaina to the generals. As he escorted her to a large building at the end of the courtyard, darkness seemed to descend upon Delos like an oppressive daemon. Melaina felt another surge of loneliness. Here she was in the middle of the Aegean, on a tiny island a large wave could sink, walking beside a man who didn't want her although they were married, and about to enter a building off-limits to women. Her visions seemed trivial. How could she advise generals in war strategy? She wrapped her arms about her abdomen, clung to her baby.

Melaina and Kallias entered a chamber filled with men and stood amid a din of voices and the stifling stench of sweaty seamen. Melaina wished that Kallias had left the door open. Inside, she saw a gleaming hall, walls formed by pilasters that penetrated openings in the ceiling. The north side was a vaulted apse, the south a small temple with two polished columns in antis housing a small statue. Men sat in marble benches against the long walls. The beauty of the place lifted Melaina's spirits. She could barely comprehend the fact that the echoing hall was decorated in luminous gold, silver, and ivory, and couldn't imagine even Zeus' court on Olympus being more beautiful than this. Though lit by torches, all was aglitter as with moon-luster, or even more, fiery light from Helios.

Melaina was surprised that no one served food. There was no carved roast beast, no gold cups brimming with wine or baskets bulging with steaming loaves, no sweet entrails. Nor were any servants present, no maids or houseboys scurrying about. She realized how destitute Greece had become, how difficult it must be to feed an entire fleet.

Gradually, the din abated as all eyes turned toward them. Melaina heard the squeak of benches and rustle of feet against the stone floor, the flap of a palm against a tabletop. The commanding generals sat enthroned at the far end of the chamber, a great marble table before them. Melaina avoided their eyes and pulled her veil about her face. Dear Demeter, why have I come here? she wondered.

A general stopped his oratory. "I see that Kallias, son of Hipponicus, has joined us. It is indeed strange to see the rich Athenian bring a woman to a war council. But let's wait until we finish the business at hand before we allow him to justify this act."

Kallias told Melaina, "He's the Spartan, Leotychides, fleet commander."

Melaina peeked around the room from behind her veil, surprised to recognize several faces, although she could name but a few. She felt unexpectedly at home here among these men of war, strangely more so than she'd felt anywhere recently.

Leotychides sat and another man rose, Xanthippus, the Athenian she'd seen at Kleito's on the way back from Brauron and again at the Isthmus. She remembered his self-assured demeanor and soft-spoken ways, but he now had a glossy cast to his eyes, and his swift manner of speaking was labored. She remembered Kallias saying Xanthippus now commanded the Athenian fleet.

"For the past week," said Xanthippus, "my squadron has run reconnaissance, venturing far into enemy waters, but steering clear of the islands aligned with Persia. What we have to report is not good. Piracy has escalated, cutting off supply ships to some of the islands and creating dismal conditions. Starvation plagues many. The Persian fleet wintered at Kyme, but now musters at the great naval base on Samos. We must prepare to meet their threat."

Leotychides came to his feet and silenced Xanthippus. "I have to keep reminding our Athenian friends that our presence here on Delos is meant only to ensure that our shores are free of harassment. Our troops on the mainland will fight the war. We'll stay put unless Persian ships sail west." He turned to Kallias. "Why wait longer? We must hear from Kallias. It has been days since we heard news of the army. Kallias, tell us of Mardonius and the occupation of Attica."

Kallias walked forward to the table, briefly turning to look back toward Melaina. She saw his dark features beneath his curly hair. "General Leotychides, fellow Athenians and members of other Hellene states. Not many days ago, Mardonius removed his army from Attica and set up camp in Boeotia, but before retreating, he advanced west as far as Megara and burned Eleusis, including the Telesterion where the sacred Mysteries have been held for the last thousand years. He also burned everything left standing in Athens."

Melaina saw the tired faces grow dark, heard their mumbling. Kallias paused. When the voices subsided, he continued.

"Shortly after Mardonius' retreat, the Hellene army gathered at the ruins of Eleusis and took an oath to defend Hellas to the last. They then crossed over the spurs of Kithaeron and took up positions on the southern bank of the Asopus at Plataea and opposite Mardonius' forces, where they now wait until those who practice seercraft say the time is right to attack."

A man interrupted Kallias, a great dark man with matted hair and beard, soiled tunic. He looked as though he could account for the entire stench of the room. Melaina recognized him as Kimon, one of the men who'd accompanied them on the return from Brauron. She'd also seen him at the Isthmus, where he'd expressed affection for her until Kallias shoved him aside. Both times he'd been flushed with wine, but now his face was red with rage.

"Let's sail the fleet back to Athens!" Kimon shouted. "Give us a chance to fight. I should have stayed on Salamis. Now I'm stuck out here in this godforsaken wasteland of an island dawdling while Hellas burns and Mardonius thumbs his nose at us from Boeotia. All the cowards in Hellas have escaped here to Delos. Will we never fight?" He fell back in his seat like a walrus and sat there sulking. "I long for a glorious death!" he shouted. "You goat-phallused bastards want to rot in your beds on top of your women."

Kimon's voice left an echo in the large hall, and Kallias hesitated before continuing. "Could be you'll get your chance yet, Kimon," he said. "A while ago, word came of an oracle from Delphi foretelling that Hellas would be victorious at Plataea if the battle were fought on Athenian soil and before a temple of Demeter. At first, we thought all was lost, since we interpreted the oracle to mean that we must fight in the Thriasian plain. But the priestess at Eleusis knew of an abandoned temple of Demeter near Plataea, and there the troops have set up headquarters. Since the land was Plataean and not Athenian, Plataea removed her boundary stones. Such is the situation as we speak, seers sacrificing to determine the gods' will. But without the knowledge of the priestess of Demeter, they'd be floundering to fight Mardonius in a way that pleased the gods."

Kimon shouted again from his chair. "This doesn't help us waterlogged out here. I see no role for us in this." He turned again to Leotychides, "Send us back to the mainland where we can fight and die with honor in defense of our homes."

Leotychides didn't respond and Kallias continued. "I have with me the priestess of Kore, daughter of the priestess of Demeter. I'm sure all of you remember that, on the night before the battle of Salamis, her prayer sent us all so well into battle. This young woman has had visions of coming battles, one involving the fleet. She speaks of a favorable outcome, provided we observe the will of the gods. That's why I brought her to you this evening, although the presence of a woman before a war council is unprecedented. If she's right, we must act with haste. I'll not tell you of her prophecies myself but let her speak, if you chose to hear her."

A tall, middle-aged man jumped to his feet, face contorted with incredulity. "This is an outrage! I've divined for the fleet these past few months and see no reason to second-guess Phoebus. Has my reading of divine will been found faulty? The gods wish us to stay put."

Instantly, Melaina liked something about the man, although his argument ran against her. She detected an uncertainty in his manner, something sympathetic, an insecurity fueling his hot words. This man could easily be made an ally, she thought. Melaina whispered in Kallias' ear, and he stood once more.

"Deiphonus, no doubt you've read the omens rightly, but Apollo has little at stake in this as his temples at Delphi and here on Delos have been spared by the Persians. Other forces at work in the cosmos, those with a direct stake in the outcome, will determine our fate."

Xanthippus rose. "Deiphonus, seers are supposed to be versed in everything, yet you've not distinguished yourself since joining the fleet. Your oracles are long on excuses and short on action. Shut up and let the girl speak."

Deiphonus wasn't perturbed. "Your problem is not with me but Apollo's obliqueness. Tell us more of the woman's visions, if you are to hear them. They come from dreams or lunatic ravings?"

Kallias seemed to know not what to say. He looked back at Melaina, then turned to Deiphonus. "She has the falling sickness," he said, but seemed startled with his own words as shouts of dismay rocked the walls.

What's he done, thought Melaina, totally discredited me? They'll stone me if he doesn't watch out.

Kallias continued, "Many of the greats had what's known as the diviner's disease: Herakles, Ajax, invincible Bellerophon who tamed the winged horse Pegasus. She's had it since conceiving a divine child."

This produced another uproar. "Conceived a monster, more likely. Get her out of here!" shouted Deiphonus.

"More reason to hear her!" shouted Kimon. "What harm would it be to listen? Surely we have the will to reject a woman's prophecies if they prove idle." He walked up behind Xanthippus, looked down at him as he sat with fear on his face. "And you, Xanthippus. You work you heart out to jail a honorable man, let him die in prison, but speak weak words in support of this glorious woman. Rise up before this council. You lead the Athenians here. Demand a hearing for her." Kimon waked back to his seat.

"Never should we hear her," shouted Deiphonus. "Epilepsy is but sickness of the soul and replete with false prophecies."

Melaina's heart plummeted. Surely a great seer such as this man would know her worth to the fleet. She was sorry she'd come. What a false sense of wellbeing she'd had thinking herself in the company of friends.

"She's Melaina, daughter of Kynegeiros!" shouted Kallias. "The dead will punish you for rebuking her."

Fnally, Xanthippus rose again. Kimon's attack on him seemed to fuel his words. "I say again, hear her! Memory of the great Athenian warrior demands it."

The general uproar supported him although Melaina thought it due more to curiosity than desire for guidance.

Xanthippus was still on his feet. "It's long been known that pregnant women glimpse the future. A priestess of the Mysteries cannot be ignored. And one of such lineage! I fought alongside Kynegeiros. No one here has his courage."

Kimon rose again, looking tired and disgusted with the whole affair, spoke directly into Deiphonus' face. "You speak as an idiot, undeserving as a child. I, for one, would listen to this daughter of Kynegeiros regardless of her topic. Shut up! Let her speak."

Leotychides himself rose, held up his hand. "Silence!" he told them, then turned to Melaina. "Step forward, young priestess. We'll hear of these visions that so moved Kallias. Start with their nature. What god gives these prophecies? Such questions are of great interest."

Melaina rose and walked forward, carefully avoiding the eyes of the men focused on her. She stopped before the table and was provided a chair. Men from the back of the room squeezed forward. She took a deep breath but so crowded with child was her abdomen that she still felt breathless. She lifted her veil in a fold across her brow. She was surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

"I realize it's unfitting for a woman to practice other than silence and discretion, yet I come to speak not of my own will but that of the gods. I'll do the best I can in spite of my sex, not being a practiced soothsayer or orator. The frenzy that sometimes captures me is horrible to gaze upon, as Lord Kallias can attest. Still, before each gruesome seizure, I have such clarity of mind, such sense of peace, that one can only describe it as union with the gods. But then comes splitting pain and raging terror no mortal should experience, followed by deep darkness and loss of the senses. Whether these visitations are possession by Apollo, as the priest at Epidaurus told me; the god of frenzy, Dionysus himself, who also has prophetic power; or divine Demeter and Kore, I know not. Perhaps the child growing inside me holds the key."

Melaina heard the men shuffling about and could see that they were tired and losing interest. She had to get to the meat of her story quickly.

"As to the visions, one occurred outside Epidaurus, the other in Kallias' home. The first was of a split path, not mortal roads but Sacred Ways defined by the Fates. Both led to great suffering during battle followed by even greater glory in victory. In the second vision, I was lofted high into the air as if carried upon the shoulders of some awesome goddess. She strode among the Aegean islands, first to divine Delos, then Samos, sacred to Hera, where smoke trailed skyward from some great conflagration, then on to mainland Asia where a great groan issued forth."

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. The hall was deathly still.

"I've studied this last vision for meaning and can only say that surely some great atrocity is to take place at Samos. The meaning of the agony in Asia can only signify a battle. But regardless of my interpretation, I can say for certain that Zeus wills you forth to battle against the Persians. You can meet nothing there better or worse than your fate."

The chamber remained quiet following her words. Finally, Xanthippus rose. "Mistress Melaina, I marvel at the sight of you. Your manner of speech, though maidenly, couldn't be more like your father's. That any daughter of his could speak so well is no surprise. You've come among us with your wisdom, goddess-like, yet humble as befits your gender. I, for one, would heed this advice, take your prophecy as truth, and proceed on the attack. But I've not the deciding vote. We must haggle amongst ourselves to learn whether we have the courage to accept the challenge you put before us. One would hope for swift action, but our short history here on Delos wouldn't foretell it. Retire to your accommodations here on the island. We'll trouble you no more."

Kallias took her by the hand and led her from the building, through the courtyard, and to a temple where the priestesses lived. Kallias was lost in thought, and Melaina wondered at the impact she had on the generals.

"What'll they do, Lord Kallias?" she asked. "I'd expected them to decide one way or the other. I've failed you, and them also, by being unconvincing."

"Oh, but you were convincing. You must understand. Generals are timid creatures, overwrought with political motives. We've done our best. Let matters fester."

As they entered the temple of Artemis, Melaina caught sight of a tall girl in a short bare-armed chiton. The girl looked familiar, but Melaina thought it impossible that she'd know someone on the island. Still, the face was unmistakable, and the girl stood tall as a man, head and shoulders above the other women. She had a wolf at her side.

"Keladeine!" shouted Melaina.

It was the young priestess from the Isthmus of Corinth.

CHAPTER 31: A View of the Fates

Keladeine looked back, and then turned away as if she'd only imagined someone calling her name.

Melaina shouted after her, "Keladeine, don't you recognize me?"

Keladeine wheeled about and raced toward Melaina, threw her arms around her. "Melaina, how could I? You've changed so."

Lykos bristled at Kallias, uttered a low growl with teeth showing. Kallias stepped back. "Stay the beast!" he said.

"Lykos!" said Keladeine. "Heel, Lykos!"

"Lord Kallias, forgive me," Melaina said. "I've met a friend."

"Then you're in good hands," he said, looking relieved the wolf was no longer eyeing him. "You'll not see me for a while, but I'll contact you when I decide you should return to the mainland." With that, he left the temple.

Keladeine took Melaina to a chamber where handmaids fixed a bed beside hers, covering it with embroidered quilts and thick firs. Then the two girls sat facing each other and clasped hands.

Melaina spoke. "Tell what's happened to you first, Keladeine, why you're on Delos. What brings you so far into the Aegean?"

Keladeine was more radiant than Melaina remembered, still dressed in her short, sleeveless chiton, skin golden from Helios. "Oh, how I wish to get off Delos!" Keladeine said. "I've been stuck here two months by the Persian threat. The warriors won't leave me alone, always singing the praises of Aphrodite and trying to get their hands on me. They never understand the path of a virgin. I've been alone and wretched, without a friend."

"But why are you here, Keladeine. It's strange to see you so far from the Isthmus."

"Apollo has ordered me to Ephesus. Word came from Delphi that a priestess must be sent because of a transformation about to occur in Ionia. My dream of living at Ephesus has come true, but I can't fulfill it. And this general, Kimon, he's ever after me like a viper."

"Yes, I know him," Melaina said, "quite an appealing fellow."

"That's the bad part, my own disease. I crave him with a sort of distemper, ranting and raving I am like a lunatic, but won't let him know. I've got to get off this island before I end up in your condition." Keladeine squeezed Melaina's small hands with her large ones until they hurt. "Tell me what's happened. Whose child is this? How could you go against your vow to Artemis." Keladeine's face showed more than concern. It projected irritation.

Melaina felt humiliated. Not since learning she was pregnant at Epidaurus did she feel such guilt. No one but Keladeine could realize the dread consequence of her pregnancy. She tried to talk but could only cry, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know how to begin. First, you must know that I have the falling sickness, epilepsy."

Keladeine became quiet, and Melaina told of falling at the battle of Salamis. How she'd known she had epilepsy even at the Isthmus, but thought she'd been cured and hadn't mentioned it. She told of Sophocles, how she'd developed great affection for him and become jealous, that she'd made a mistake one night and left herself open to the influence of Aphrodite. She told of the strange coupling, how it had all seemed a dream and that she knew not who'd visited her bed. She told of the trip to Epidaurus to seek a cure for the epilepsy, learning of her pregnancy while there, and of Kallias saving her during the burning of Eleusis, marrying and shunning her after learning of her illness, all within a single day.

"Is your baby the divine child talked about all over Hellas?"

"I've wanted to think that it's Sophocles' child, but memory of that night, while unclear, refutes it. Oh Keladeine! How can one suppose herself to be carrying a divine child?"

Melaina fell silent, and Keladeine said, "When I met you at the Isthmus, I realized that your life was but clay on the potter's wheel of the gods, some deity spinning and shaping it to divine will. Remember? I told you this then. Even being with you takes courage for any who have the ability to sense divine presence. We're all in your service, as evidenced by my sweet sister giving her life to rescue you. Even my being here on Delos may be but support for you in time of need. Tell me, what brought you here? The island buzzes with news of a priestess come this very evening on a mission from the gods. Could that be you also?"

"It's but my own foolishness, Keladeine. Before each seizure I have visions, some of great battles. I'm here to tell the generals, so they can decide if my visions be omens of future events or baseless hallucinations. Kallias didn't believe so but brought me anyway, unwilling to decide against me himself. I went before the generals this evening after arriving."

"All you tell fits a divine pattern, but one thing concerns me greatly. Artemis deals harshly with those who stray. Have you prayed to her about this?"

"O Keladeine! If you knew the anguish this very thought has caused me. After learning I was pregnant, I went to Artemis at Epidaurus and tried to propitiate her, but felt the goddess remote, not listening. The priest at Epidaurus thought Apollo must be the father of my child. Such he read from the dream I had in the Abaton. He said that Artemis rebuffed me by appearing with Apollo as a hind instead of in human form."

"If this is true, you've come between divine brother and sister, not an enviable position. But I don't believe it. At Iphigeneia's sacrifice, Artemis substituted a hind in her place. Could be she was simply showing you the same principle of mercy."

"I fear not only the wrath of Artemis but also Hera. On the way to Epidaurus, I stopped at her temple to pray, but felt great hostility from her."

"Perhaps Hera will soften her anger now that you've married. Could be the gods are taking turns with you, each working their will on your life. Artemis is a complex deity. In Asia, she's known as the great mother goddess. Her worship there is even more ancient than in Hellas. That's the reason I'm going, to merge Hellene and Asian views of her. Perhaps out in the middle of the Aegean, as we are here on Delos, her influence over you is mixed, ambivalent."

"But lately I've felt close to Athena. Ever I come closer in temper to that of the fleet. Sailing in a trireme is such a joy."

"We must get you up the mountain to the temple of Athena tomorrow morning. If Athena is influencing your fate, we must pay homage to her. That you've married an Athenian certainly makes that likely. Athena has taken you into her charge for the sake of Athens."

As the two young women talked, sounds from outside, of dancing feet and singing choruses from all over Greece, lofted into the chamber. The island seemed in continuous festival. A group of girls, who called themselves Deliades, entered the chamber and formed a circle around Melaina and Keladeine. They were the friendliest creatures Melaina had ever met, dancing about like children begging attention, laughing and poking at her until she thought them a nuisance. They were unusually interested in her pronunciation of words, the way she used her mouth while talking, and her hand gestures. They would set her in motion across the room just to watch her walk.

Later that evening, Melaina and Keladeine left their chamber to see the festivities. They entered the courtyard and passed a modest temple of Artemis beside the Keraton, Palace of Horns. Choruses came from within it dancing the Crane: an invocation of birds, swamp walking, and maneuvering the Labyrinth. Melaina and Keladeine stood and watched. First came long-robed Ionians, refugees fleeing Persian dominion, performing dances of great solemnity and dignity. Keladeine joined the thin-veiled women cloaked in flowing garments. She danced like a delightful dove, tilting her head first this way, then that, her feet placed in precise measure to the beat, a gentle lifting of the arm, a pose. The aulete's tune was slave to her song.

The Deliades also returned to the festivities. Many people of different origins came to Delos. These the Deliades mimicked, imitating dialects and chatterings of all men. Then Melaina learned why they'd been so interested in her back in her chamber. One of the Deliades stepped forward, her chiton stuffed with a pillow, puffed her cheeks and stiff-legged about the courtyard to the aulete's beat. She twirled about each stiff leg and lumbered from side to side.

Melaina fell against a wall overcome with hilarity at her own likeness. "They use laughter as a lethal weapon. Tell them stop it, Keladeine, or they'll have me delivering the child."

The Deliades praised Apollo with a hymn by ancient Olen, like that Melaina had heard in the thymele at Epidaurus, one to Leto and arrow-pouring Artemis. Melaina sang too, voice lifting, lofting. She sang with a gleeful force she'd never before achieved. It came from pure ecstasy. With Melaina in the center, the chorus circled, then twirled so fast that their hair stood out straight from their shoulders. Melaina loved the flickering torchlight, the smell of trailing smoke winding a path among the dancers. The lyre player stepped onto the dance floor and smote the ground with flashing feet. A throng stood around the courtyard clapping.

Melaina felt the mildest confusion and was momentarily deprived of her senses. She experienced a throat spasm, cheek twitching, and suffered a minor facial convulsion. She heard a call go up from the chorus for the deity to join them, and they all began an ethereal dance, mimicking the movement of heavenly bodies. Frenzy overtook the crowd, hysterical, wild dancing. Melaina felt a rush at the flurry of pounding feet, the deafening screech of the pipes, and her vision shifted. She saw dancing stars spiral above, a gigantic vortex of cosmic motion, and felt the Cyclades spinning about Delos.

A swirl appeared in the middle of the dance floor, and grand Apollo himself swooped down from the firmament to high-step a tune among them. All mortals spun about him, his satellites, as the cosmos circled above. The great Spindle of Necessity, she saw, and round it whirled the planets, moon, and sun, each assigned a humming Siren. The three white-robed Fates, divine spinners of lives, chanted while twirling the axle of mortality. Each sang in turn of the past, present, and future. It was as if Melaina viewed the creation of the Universe, the machinery of the gods weaving human reality from primordial chaos.

Melaina didn't cry out or fall. She had no splitting pain, but recognized her affliction, the vertigo and stupor, followed by a period of incoherence and the slow return of understanding. She had thoughts of violence and felt malice toward everyone.

I'm having a partial seizure, she thought, one seemingly without end. She saw other divine Olympians: Artemis, Athena, Zeus, and Hera. The frowning warlord Ares stood alongside the sea-god Poseidon. Divine Demeter, without her daughter, sat on a golden throne. Aphrodite danced nude.

When Melaina fully roused, she realized Keladeine had hold of her hand and was talking to her calmly, her voice coming from far in the distance. "Come back to me, Melaina," she was saying, "I'm here when you return."

Melaina watched as Athena leaned forward and touched Zeus, her father, on the shoulder, whispered in his ear. Melaina saw Zeus nod.

"Zeus has just decided our fate," Melaina said aloud. "Woe be unto Persia."

CHAPTER 32: The Broach of Arrogance

Melaina woke late to find Keladeine missing. Instantly, she felt abandoned and longed for Kallias. She left the temple and walked the courtyard grounds alone, but couldn't find Kallias or the young priestess. The weather had turned cold and a group of men recognized her and offered help, but she refused, sinking into depression. She worried about the child, felt it shift inside her, and wondered how she could have talked Kallias into bringing her to desolate Delos.

Finally, she found Keladeine with a strange-looking man, the two shooting arrows into an old tree stump out by a shallow marsh. Keladeine had a quiver stuffed with handmade arrows strapped to her back. Melaina thought her companion looked unmanly, his dress effeminate. Keladeine called him "Colaxais" as he showed her how to sight along the arrow and gauge the elevation of its tip to allow for fall during flight. Lykos and an even larger black dog stood to the side, obediently staying their ground.

Upon seeing Melaina, Keladeine dismissed her teacher, speaking to him in a foreign tongue.

"What an odd fellow. Who is he?" asked Melaina.

"A noble-blooded Scythian of great wealth. He makes his home on the banks of the quiet-flowing but mighty Don River."

"What! A Scythian? Scythians are uncivilized, and have uncouth eating habits."

"Ah, he's not so bad, once you get to know him. Besides, they're not always after pleasures of the flesh."

"I've heard they don't allow the elderly to die of old age, but include them in a sacrifice with their cattle, their human flesh boiled and eaten along with beef."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Melaina. And they are handy. Second to none with the bow. And the gods enjoy their presence. A Scythian's nature attracts them."

The two girls walked to the rush-overgrown marsh marking the shallow, sacred lake, 'the Wheel' as the Delians called it. A small stream flowing from Mt. Kynthos kept the lake brimming with fresh water. On an oasis in the center, a tall date palm grew. Melaina stared across the water at it. She was still dizzy, reeling from her vision the night before.

"Yes," said Keladeine, "Leto spread her arms around that tree while giving birth to Artemis and Apollo."

"Wow!" said Melaina. "What a sacred site." She watched as tuneful, muse-inspired swans swum, lacing the eddying mere where bulrushes hid the far shore and the sun's heat drew mist skyward. Along the western flank, between lake and sea, stood a row of roaring lions, statuesque guardians of the lake.

Melaina spoke with Keladeine of last night's vision, explaining that she'd seen the gods and knew their will concerning the forthcoming battle in Ionia. She didn't know how to speak to the generals about it, yet knew she must. Melaina hadn't seen Kallias since the night before and missed him considerably. She'd come to appreciate a man's presence.

She and Keladeine left the lake and walked up Mt. Kynthos to the temple of Athena. Melaina stopped every few steps to catch her breath. "Gone are the days when I could bound about like a young rabbit. The child takes my strength." But she didn't have to walk the full distance. A small donkey-drawn cart carrying supplies for the temple allowed them aboard.

They said prayers at both Athena's temple and at that of Zeus the father. Keladeine officiated, speaking the words for Melaina. They stepped back outside. From the top of Kynthos they viewed the entire world. The hilltop was formed of broken boulders and curious skull-like formations. Delos itself was a thin sliver of rock, beneath a stark-blue sky, surrounded by sea. Keladeine pointed out the islands of the Cyclades visible from the lofty peak: close-by Reneia and Mykonos, of course, but also Paros and Naxos, twin shores to the south.

Melaina noticed three ships sail around the southern tip of Mykonos and Greek warships immediately intercept them. "Look!" she said.

"Something's happened," said Keladeine. "We must hurry down."

They again sought the cart and descended the hill. As they reached the village, Lykos saw Kallias first and would have attacked except for obedience to Keladeine. "Off, Lykos!" she scolded.

"Lord Kallias," Melaina said, "we've seen three ships accosted off the tip of Mykonos. Do you think they're Persian?"

"No. We've just received the news ourselves. They're Hellenes from Ionia and requesting council. The generals bid me summon you also. Seems I've become your herald. Descendant of the divine herald, as I am, is it any wonder?"

Keladeine returned to the temple of Artemis, and Melaina entered the council chamber with Kallias amid great confusion, everyone excited and shouting at once. "Show them in as soon as they arrive," said Leotychides. "Word from the Aegean's far shore is food for the ears."

The three Samians entered, dressed in full war garb with swords hanging from their belts. The eldest, gray-haired and hump-shouldered, stood in the center of the chamber and spoke, his excited voice echoing in the hall. "We've been sent by all Samians without the knowledge of Xerxes or Theomestor whom the king left as tyrant over our island," he said. "The Persian fleet musters on Samos as we speak, but not for battle. After their defeat at Salamis, low morale affords them little more than the strength to stand watchdog over Ionia. The time is ripe. Liberate us!"

Leotychides spoke. "Your request adds to that we heard yesterday saying the gods also wish us to force the issue in Ionia. But we Spartans serve only our own security. Meddling in the affairs of others is ever a great plague on humanity. Your words are comforting, but demonstrate even less reason to press the attack." With that Leotychides took his seat.

The hump-shoulder Samian leader looked perplexed and waved his arms but was speechless. Finally, he found his voice. "At the mere sight of Hellene sails on the horizon, not only Samos but all Ionia will revolt against Xerxes. The Persians can offer little resistance. You'll reap a great harvest. Although it serves our good, it also serves yours. Xerxes will use Ionia to harass the rest of Hellas far into the future if you permit this continued occupation."

Leotychides rose again. "We haven't the means to attack the lion in its lair. Our ships are badly supplied and ill-prepared for a long siege. When Agamemnon invaded Asia, Hellenes pounded Trojan walls ten long years before they fell."

"Not so this time," said the Samian. "Persian ships are unhandy and no match for yours. Surely you learned that at Salamis. That Hellenes would attempt an assault on Ionia has never entered Persian thought."

"Persians don't think of it, because it's foolish," countered Leotychides.

Xanthippus rose. Melaina could see that the Athenian, though second in command, carried more weight with the men than did Leotychides. "Endless excuses," he said. "Did all brave Spartans die with Leonidas at Thermopylae? We Athenians are by our very nature disposed toward action. Let us not pass up this opportunity. The Ionian is right. All Hellas is at risk so long as Persia holds sway over Ionia."

Leotychides countered. "Athenians are ever eager to voice an insult, yet even Delphi's oracle speaks against action. Did not Apollo dictate that all battles must be fought on Athenian soil? Kallias said as much yesterday."

Kimon had remained quiet, but now jumped to his feet, his voice booming the hall. "You vomit stupidity! We can rot on Delos no longer." He turned to Melaina. "Even our women prod us forward. You filthy cowards! You're fit only for the dung heap."

Leotychides seemed to falter, then said, "We'll have to talk to the Ephors at Sparta before making a decision. I can't risk troops without authority."

The leader of the Samians spoke again. "Never would I have imagined such faintheartedness. Tigranes is the only warrior of any talent among them. Beware the man who has to face him in single combat. But he is only one man. In the name of honor that all Hellas holds sacred!" he shouted. "Save us from slavery. We are men of the same blood as you. Expel the foreigner from our soil."

Leotychides seemed a coward to Melaina. She could see it all slipping away. The generals would indeed stay on Delos and the Aegean remain forever a haunt and refuge for Persian warships. A wave of grief fell upon her, and her hand touched upon the golden Broach of Arrogance. The symbols on it were chiseled into her mind's eye such that she could see them without the broach before her. Now they burned bright as never before, flames licking the edges of the stylus strokes, the script on fire. The ancient tongue spoke to her, The command of Zeus is ever upon you, his struggle is yours. Great anger emanated from each letter.

Melaina jerked the broach from her cloak, stood, and walked among the generals, holding it up for all to see. "Here!" she shouted, her eyes flashing across theirs in flagrant disregard of feminine custom, recording their astonishment. "This golden broach given to me by the blacksmith at Eleusis was formed using the Telchines' ancient art. The eagle, whose shape it has, is that which gnawed Prometheus' liver, a bane for the god's arrogance when he stole fire and gave it to mortals. This broach warns against that arrogance all mortals inherited with the fire. Xerxes, yea all Persia, is the embodiment of arrogance. He claims to be King of Kings, yet is no more than any Hellene citizen."

Melaina saw Kallias shift uncomfortably in his chair and shake his head, while Leotychides fidgeted and looked about him, not knowing if he should stoop to argue with a woman. He finally spoke, "But consider this, daughter of illustrious Kynegeiros. Realize Delphi's imperative that the struggle for Hellas be fought before a temple of Demeter and on Athenian soil. Kallias tells us this. Yet none of Ionia, Aegean islands or Asia, belongs to Athens."

Melaina turned her eyes directly on him, her brow wrinkled in anger. "No matter that none of it is lawful Athenian soil. The Gods speak of their view of the land, not the idle opinion of mortals. In ancient times, the sons of King Kodrus of Athens by divine decree sailed to Asia and founded Ionia. It will always be Athenian in the heart of Athena and Zeus the father. This wrangling is simply an excuse to escape divine will. In my vision on the way to Epidaurus, the Fates hadn't yet sewn the cloth of our fate. But last night while watching the dancing in the courtyard, I had another vision, and watched as Athena asked, and Zeus chose sides. Divine will now stands with Hellas. Zeus has already decreed Ionia unshackled. You have but to deal the divine blow."

Leotychides' face went blank. Melaina knew she had him in a tight spot. Not only was a woman telling a man to show courage, but she also, by pronouncing the gods' decree, had removed all their excuses.

Since he sat in shameful silence, she spoke again. "The three divine crones, daughters of Nyx, weave the future as we speak. As long as Xerxes has a single Hellene city within his grasp, he'll covet the rest. Xerxes will be defeated. The only question is whether you have the courage to be part of it. Let me tell you this...."

Melaina felt herself jerked backward. Kallias had hold and pulled her, not only from in front of the generals, but also from the chamber and into the fading afternoon sunlight. Once outside he told her, "I've saved you from the very arrogance you speak against. It's not a woman's place to scold generals."

"How else could I cure their blindness?" But even as she spoke in her own defense, guilt overcame her. In her zeal she'd overstepped her bounds, as she was so apt to lately. How could she have progressed so quickly from fear of even speaking to the generals, to ordering them into battle?

"I'll return to see that their wrath goes not too strong against you," said Kallias. "Perhaps they'll impose a mild punishment. You're young and intend good." He walked away.

CHAPTER 33: Reading Entrails

Kallias was gone but a short time and returned forthwith, the fleet seer trailing after him. "Ever your impact on people amazes me," Kallias said. "For when I reentered, the generals were discussing not which chastisement best suited your crime, but how to further explore the will of Zeus. Here with me stands Deiphonus, soothsayer extraordinaire, sent by Leotychides. He's to divine the god's will with you assisting. From now on, limit your outspokenness so as not to overly concern me."

"Which way flows the tide of opinion?" she asked.

"Amazingly, the generals lean toward going. After suffering your assault on him, Leotychides weakens from his steadfast opposition. The sacrificial omens will swing the balance. You two are to set up the sacrifice for the generals' observance."

He left her in the hands of belligerent Deiphonus.

The two walked silently in lengthening shadows to the temple of Apollo, past the colossal cult statue, the monumental gilded image of the god holding a likeness of the three Graces in his right hand and a bow in his left. Inside was the fireplace covered in ash, glowing charcoal, bones, and the slaughter stone stained by blood, oil, and wine. Vessels of all kinds stood about along with roasting spits, axes, and cauldrons on tripods for boiling sacrificial meat. She knew Deiphonus didn't want to share the sacrifice, but looked strangely afraid. He fidgeted with his himation, kept throwing the end over his shoulder.

Of all the men in the meeting they'd just left, he'd seemed the only clean one. His chiton, warn next to the skin, appeared new or at least recently washed. His himation was so clean and white that it glowed in the pale torchlight of the temple. His himation was girded about the waist by a band of the finest silk, almost like a woman, she thought. Everything about him shouted pretense. The scent emanating from him was saffron.

"Don't worry," she said, "I've learned my lesson. I realize a fleet seer of your reputation could teach me much. I'll but observe the intricacies of your art, and try to learn from a master."

Deiphonus looked frightened and turned away, stroked his beard nervously. He said, "To learn to work together we'll need a practice victim." He disappeared.

While he was gone, Melaina rekindled the fire, but he reappeared quickly with a goat from the holding pen, a bit of confidence returning to his troubled face. He sprinkled the goat with meal and wine, waited for it to shiver assent. This he did with great flourish. Melaina uttered the woman's cry as he slit the animal's throat, then elevated the back legs to encourage the blood flow. Just when she expected him to open up the animal, he paused. She saw his hands tremble. He's afraid, she thought, but of what? When he slit the animal down the middle and broke it open, he paused again.

"Are you going to read the entrails, or not?" she asked.

He sat to the task, but started unfolding the large intestine, laid it out on the ground. Then he grabbed the heart with the left hand while he cut it loose from the arteries with his right.

"What are you doing?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. She suppressed a laugh. "Start with the lungs, heart, then liberate the gallbladder and liver."

"I've never done this in front of a priestess," he answered.

She wondered how a grown man, a fleet diviner, could be afraid of a girl only fifteen, when she realized, with a jolt, that the man was a fraud. "You have a problem?" she asked.

"I know that with the knowledge you've shown just this far, you'll see through me, so I must tell you the truth. I have no reputation. Many chide me over my lack of skill." He still wouldn't look at her. "I've but taken the name of a great diviner's son and have little knowledge of seercraft. If the generals find out, they'll have my head."

Melaina thought to herself, So that's what's behind his façade. Instantly, she made a decision. "No one need know," she said, then thought, How fragile and transparent are the hearts of men! "I learned from an aged blind man at Epidaurus, a descendent of ancient Teiresias. We'll work together to bring forth a prophecy so pure, it'll sway the hearts of even the most ardent disbelievers."

She took the knife from him and severed a large vessel coming from the head. "Note," she said, "on its path to the liver, one-half the vessel runs beside the kidney and loin to the thigh, then continues to the foot. It's called the 'hollow vein.' The other half courses the diaphragm, lying close to the lung, then branches to the heart and arm."

Deiphonus stared into the bloody victim, observing Melaina's hands as they quickly severed the connecting veins and raised a dark mass from within the bloody chamber. The hot, sticky fluids warmed her cold hands. "This is the liver with gall bladder attached."

"What part indicates divine preference?" he asked. "I know the liver, spleen, heart. Even their function in nourishing the body is no great secret. But I find no god residing there."

"Oh, but you must think in terms of the wits, the way thoughts come to us." Melaina took a deep breath, realizing she'd better start at the beginning. "The brain contains the higher principal, the divine element of the soul," she said, "and the body the lower. The neck is the isthmus connecting but restraining passage. The higher principal contains reason, reflection, and understanding. The lower houses terrible but necessary feelings: pleasure, pain, confidence, and fear, the appetites. It's irrational, falling easily under the spell of phantoms. The heart, filled with courage, passion, and love for contention, is set at the guardpost before the gate to the divine citadel, demanding temperance and enforcing the rule that only the best shall pass upward."

"True enough," he said. "But this tells nothing of divine will."

"Patience," she said, "I'm coming to that. We feel the gods, experience their presence inside ourselves. They influence us mortals through our entrails and demarcate animal entrails in the same way."

Melaina laid the dripping mass in his hands and stroked the surface to indicate the condition of the various parts as she spoke. "Diviners use the nobler entrails, in particular the liver, which resides next to the irrational part of the soul with its weakness for hallucination. The liver transmits thoughts to the soul under the influence of the gods, receiving and reflecting images as a mirror. It's there, into the liver, that the gods throw their ideas and feelings."

"But how to read it?" Deiphonus' voice was high-pitched, full of panic. "What discernible signs could possibly manifest there?"

"When the gods wish to express dissatisfaction, they cause the liver to become bitter and threatening, thus giving off bilious color while becoming wrinkled and round. The lobes bend and shrivel. Conversely to express pleasure, the gods use the liver's natural sweetness to provide gentle thoughts, allaying bile and bitterness to render smoothness, perfection, and thus furnish happiness and joy. All this occurs within the livers of humans and animals alike and is the reason seers divine using sacrificial victims. To read divine will in the entrails, one simply unfolds the liver as a writing tablet, opening and inspecting it."

"Beyond strange, but simple enough," he said, his voice returning to its normal state of feigned confidence. "The lower portion of the soul, though irrational, sees the future?"

"Necessarily so. As proof that divination comes from our innate foolishness, not wisdom, realize that I don't attain prophetic truth and inspiration when I have my wits about me but when I'm demented. Only later, when I have recovered my reason, can I judge the meaning in my apparitions and interpret whether they are favorable or contrary."

Deiphonus' eyes were large, and his voice filled with wonder. "How did mortals learn such things?"

"Prometheus, Forethought himself, taught mortals divining when he stole fire. As punishment Zeus sent his winged hound, the eagle, to banquet on Prometheus' liver. Since Prometheus taught us to read the liver, Zeus tortured Prometheus' own."

"Yes, I've wondered about that. But hurry. Let's set up the sacrifice. The generals will arrive shortly."

Into the garden the generals came, the temple overflowing with warriors and seamen to witness the sacrifice. Melaina had slaves cut them all tender myrtle sprays to bind their brows. She and Deiphonus then purified their hands in the sacred mountain stream, while one servant brought baskets and another a bowl for slaughter blood. They kindled the fire and set cauldrons around the hearth, the clang of metal ringing.

"Bring a lamb," she said.

"Will any do?" whispered Deiphonus.

"Select haphazardly, as in casting lots, so divine guidance that pervades the universe will direct the choice."

While he was gone, Keladeine appeared, Lykos at her side. Melaina whispered a few words to her, and Keladeine spoke sternly to the wolf. Melaina then patted him on the nose. Keladeine stood back with the other observers, Kallias at her side. Melaina regarded him briefly, then turned back to the sacrificial fire just as Deiphonus returned carrying the lamb under his arm.

Melaina turned to Leotychides, and asked him to agree to a twofold question. She offered, "Is it better and more proper for us to wage war on Persia in Ionia than to remain at Delos?"

"Yes, that is the question," Leotychides assured.

Melaina cast barley meal upon the altar and spoke. "Apollo of rocky Delos, vouchsafe victory for Hellene forces and ruin for our foes."

From the basket, Deiphonus took the straight blade, sheared a lock of lamb's wool and cast it upon the flame. Then he slit the lamb's throat.

With the filleting of the animal, Deiphonus showed considerable skill, slitting it down the middle with the sharp blade, and breaking it open. Melaina took the knife from him and bent to the work of severing the large vessel from the head to liberate the liver. She stared at it intently. But the liver was less a lobe. Melaina knew only a healthy sheep could be used and studied the visceral side of the liver, which also contained a deformed gallbladder.

Deiphonus gasped. "Evil portents, foreshadow of disaster!"

A murmur of concern passed among the generals.

"Hardly!" Melaina scowled. "The lamb is diseased, the omens spurious." She turned on him. "You've brought us a bad victim. I'll have to select one myself."

Deiphonus threw the carcass to the stray dogs standing about, and he and Melaina left the temple together, walked to the sacred holding pen. Several lambs approached the two seers, and Deiphonus was ready to take the largest, but Melaina spotted one in a far corner. "That!" she said. "The word of Apollo is elusive. We'll take one reflecting his nature."

Back in the temple, Deiphonus drew back the lamb's head with great flourish, cutting through sinews of the neck, and splashing red the stone altar. After the filleting, he offered the gods thighbones wrapped in glistening fat.

Melaina said, "Listen. Hear the fire crackle? That's Hephaestus laughing. A favorable sign." Then she grasped the noble entrails and inspected them, Deiphonus looking over her shoulder.

"The liver is sectioned as a picture of the world read from the night sky, a model of the heavens," she said quietly to Deiphonus. "Read from the top, going around to the right. I read a favorable sign from Hera," she said, "obviously concerned for her temple on Samos, her birthplace."

"Yes," said Deiphonus, then raised his voice so all could hear, "a favorable sign from divine Hera, her temple on your island in jeopardy," he said to the Samians.

This brought murmurs from the crowd, "Ah, yes," they said, but still Melaina saw confusion etched in their faces. If I don't get on with this, she thought, they'll lose confidence in me.

Melaina knew that the regions of the liver important for interpreting Demeter's influence also carried significance for Kore. She stopped, her courage shaken, then regained her composure. "This is from the divine daughter and pertains to me alone," she said.

Melaina's silence had caused some in the crowd to believe she'd lost her confidence. Kimon said, "She hasn't the courage to speak the will of Zeus. Shout your thought in the midst of us, Melaina. Does cowardice master you?"

Leotychides chimed in. "She's lost her way in the reading," he shouted. "If you utter a vain prophecy, lead the fleet to disaster, think how to escape my hands alive."

Melaina's face flushed and for the first time she panicked. Deiphonus was not the only fraud here. Never before had she read entrails on her own. Yet she knew she could do it. Had they already lost faith in her?

Kallias then stepped in front of the general, his face red with anger. "Hold your tongue when addressing this priestess for she is my wife. I'll send you to the Undergloom if you threaten her again."

Another murmur of surprise passed through the crowd, and they seemed to look upon her with new respect. This was the first time Kallias had mentioned their marriage in public. Melaina was struck dumb by the statement and felt immeasurable gratitude for this magnification of her stature. Now she was not only a priestess but also the wife of the richest aristocrat in Athens, a field commander's wife. She could do this.

Melaina addressed Leotychides' fear. "I falter not from lack of knowledge, sir, but overabundance. Never have I seen such beautiful entrails. The liver glistens with more brilliance than the heavens. The fate of all present here is written therein, just as in the stars. Any of you, step forward. I'll read your fate in the coming days."

The two generals who had spoken against her shuffled about uneasily, each standing first on one foot, then the other.

"I see the end of all your lives," she said, "you have but to ask to know if it comes tomorrow or in a hundred years."

But not one had the courage to look his own fate in the face. Kallias shamed them. "Ever you find fault with soothsayers, but tremble before her seercraft."

Since they all remained silent, she proceeded with the reading. Deiphonus crowded in behind her. The two spoke quietly, then Melaina addressed the generals.

"Deiphonus allows me to relay the final word of Apollo as he prophesies the will of Zeus. The condition of the entrails is perfect. Never has either of us seen such glistening liver fat. Zeus has spoken again, his word unchanged from past prophecy." She raised her hand in the air, made a fist. "Ionia is ours! Death to Persia!"

But her enthusiasm was slow to move the crowd. Leotychides spoke for the group. "This is the final word then? A favorable reading from the entrails?" But Melaina could tell he was still unstirred.

"One more word will I speak," she said. "The vision came to me as I read the entrails. The Persians have burned Samos. Red flames lick timbers on the holy island as we speak."

The Samians shouted in dismay. "Ever more urgent is our need," said their aged leader. "Proceed quickly."

Melaina continued, "If you had doubt that those on Samos would revolt against the Persians, this should settle the issue."

Seeing that the omens were favorable, Leotychides asked the Samians for their names, "Perhaps they will contain another good omen," he said.

Lampon was one, another Athenagoras. The Samian who'd done all the talking stepped forward, the old humped man. "Hegesistratus," he said, Leader of the Host.

Melaina thought this a curious name and wondered if she hadn't heard it before.

Quickly, Kallias came alive, drew his sword and advanced on the man. "I'll hack your head from your shoulders," he said.

Melaina wondered if Kallias had gone mad.

"Show your leg!" demanded Kallias. "I'll see the right foot, or take your head."

The Samian pushed back, wanting no part of his body vulnerable.

Then Melaina's own confusion over the name resolved, and she realized Kallias' worry. She stepped between them. "Lord Kallias! I know your mind and can assure you he's not who you suspect."

Kallias turned to her incredulous. "You know him?"

"No, but I've met a man by that name, Hegesistratus the clubfoot who divines for Mardonius." She turned to the Samian. "Sir, offer up the limb. I'll see to it that he, my husband, not cleave it from the trunk."

The man cautiously stepped aside, raised his tunic.

"Yes," said Kallias, "the woman is right. No carved timber you walk upon. Forgive my outburst. I thought we had an enemy amongst us." He turned to Melaina. "Who in Hellas or Persia, or in all the world for that matter, don't you know? Women are supposed to come to marriage as a clean slate, a piece of papyrus for their husbands to write upon. You come to me a book of screeches and ravings, full of enough lunatic learning to baffle an aged philosopher, and not yet past your fifteenth year."

The tension broke, and Leotychides spoke to Hegesistratus. "The meaning of your name is indeed a good omen. I'll cast my vote also for liberating Ionia. But before such an undertaking, let us take an oath of offensive and defensive alliance. This young priestess here would seem an excellent choice to give it. Let her be the one to pour wine and administer the words." He then looked expectantly at Melaina.

Melaina was astounded with the distinction given her. But the thrill quickly turned to foreboding as she looked at Kallias and remembered his vacillation concerning their marriage. Even with his recent admonition, the fact that he'd faltered for a while still stung her. Can a man keep an oath? she wondered. "Greatly do you honor me, sir," she said to Leotychides. "What holds Hellas together is the oath. Still, without wishing to seem ungrateful, I'll not do it with wine."

"She's temperamental," said Kallias, "and unreasonable at times. Perhaps someone else would be a better choice."

Melaina ignored him and continued addressing Leotychides. "I'll use water from the river Styx carried in a golden goblet, as do the gods."

"Impossible!" shouted Kallias, and the murmur from the rest told that they shared his alarm.

Anticipating such an outburst, Melaina maintained her composure. "The islet west of Delos is sacred to both Hekate and Iris. A sacred spring flows there with water forbidden for use other than oaths. It comes from Styx in the Underworld, and Iris herself draws water there for the gods' oaths. I'll use it unless your oath is insincere."

Leotychides questioned her. "Why such extremes for oath taking? I've heard nothing like it."

"Kallias has taught me well of men's fickle hearts," she said. "I'll not give an oath that can be taken lightly."

"What of this, Kallias?" asked Xanthippus.

Kallias, face beaming brilliant red, turned his back to them.

Then, all stood still, each hoping the other would know how to satisfy her. Finally, Kallias turned back, spoke. "I'll take her to the island. She can draw the water herself."

"Hurry," said Hegesistratus, "Helios' light fades."

From Apollo's temple, the priest retrieved a large golden goblet that Melaina carried in both hands on the walk to the dock. Quickly, she and Kallias entered a small fishing boat. Kallias, at the oars, facing the stern where Melaina sat, negotiated the narrow channel as the pink glow of sunset faded from the western sky.

On the far side, they exited the boat, and Kallias helped her up the shallow incline and past a small abandoned building, a temple of the divine oathgiver Iris, Hera's winged messenger, the angel. They came to a grove of oak trees, all stunted by rocky soil. Within the shaded grove, they found a cliff and through a cleft in it heard, but could not see, running water. Melaina removed her chiton and unwrapped the bandage supporting her bulging abdomen, then folded and laid both on the ground. She stood naked before Kallias, holding the golden goblet.

"I'm afraid of the dark," she said. "Talk to me while I enter."

"So you do still have some of the little girl left in you," said Kallias, then kept up a stream of words, nonsense really, as her bare feet stepped into the cold water. She squeezed between rocks into the cleft, wetness splashing her, then held out the goblet until she felt it overflow. She backed out of the cleft to Kallias.

"Quickly, Lord," she said. "Dry me. This water has death in it."

"Is it really from the Styx?"

"So it's been told by priests since primordial times. To drink it brings death, to get it on the skin causes those closest you to grow remote."

He dabbed the cold water from her with the bandage, then stood looking at her. "Though eight months pregnant, you're by far the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Melaina. I've come to love you in spite of this terrible falling affliction." His voice was smooth there in the pale moonlight, touched with sadness. He took her into his arms.

Melaina felt an exquisite internal warmth and a quiet compassion for him, though she'd not call it love. But she did kiss him, kissed him as if she loved him. Then she donned her chiton and they returned to the boat by torchlight.

She warned him, "Careful the waves not rock the boat and splash this Styx water on deck." She held the torch while he rowed.

Once again before the generals, Melaina said, "My final request."

The generals then looked askance of one another, nervousness besetting the group. Kallias stood aside, refusing to argue with her.

Melaina looked at them as if they were her group of girls back at Eleusis. "I'll need a lump of iron for each general, and a single hand-bellows. Following that I'll give the greatest and most awful oath possible."

From within the city grounds, slaves brought forth several heavy ingots and placed them and the wheezing bellows before her.

"Fire them!" she said. "They're of no use until white hot."

She stood before the fire squeezing the bellows as she'd seen Palaemon at Eleusis. Great flames grew but gradually died as the glowing coals became hotter and hotter.

"This water bears a curse," she said, holding up the goblet, "therefore drink none of it. It comes from far below Earth's wide paths, a cascade from the briny deep. If any god of snowy Olympus pours a libation of this water then swears falsely, he lies breathless a full year, wrapped in evil coma. When this trial subsides, another seizes him: nine years banishment from council and feast. Mortals suffer ten years exile plus whatever other evils the gods devise."

Deiphonus, along with a warrior he had sequestered, brought forward two ewes, one back, one white, and while Deiphonus slit their throats, spilling black blood into a bowl, Melaina called forth the gods. "Immortal Zeus, father of all mortals and immortals, wrathful and invincible god ruling from Olympus; bright-faced Helios, whose eternal eye sees all; and rabid, arrogant Furies who howl Necessity's dictates and wreak vengeance for false swearing; all you gods witness this solemn oath."

Then the generals, each in turn, retrieved their glowing iron ingot from the fire and, using the sacrificial victim's skin as a sling, cast the hot metal into the sea. "We swear never to break our mutual friendship until the masses of iron float up of their own freewill, still red hot."

With that, she poured upon the ground water from the golden goblet, the generals scurrying from its trailing path lest their feet become wet with the fearful liquid. Melaina prayed again. "Ethereal and blazing Zeus, and all you other vengeance-mindful gods; whosoever is first to do wrong against this oath, may his brain spill out on the ground as does this water, his wife be a captor of other men's desires, and his children reflect the face of his enemies."

Kallias flinched at the mention of children and wives, then looked daggers at Melaina. The generals plunged their right hands of fellowship into the warm, sacrificial blood, and Melaina spoke words binding each to the other, those from Samos pledging wholehearted support of the Greek cause during the coming battle. Henceforth and forever, the generals Leotychides and Xanthippus pledged both liberation of Ionia and protection against Persia.

The oath complete, the meeting broke up, generals to the docks, Melaina and Kallias to the temple of Artemis. They entered her chamber and closed the door.

Kallias said, "I'll leave you here and board one of my triremes for the trip to Samos. You'll return tomorrow morning to Athens or perhaps Eleusis, whichever you prefer. I only ask that you send word to my mother of your decision."

"Me, decide?" said Melaina. "How am I ever to understand you and your vacillating commitment to our marriage? In Athens, you sealed my fate saying you'd not suffer my illness. Then you acknowledge our marriage here before the generals. And now you act as though it's been me vacillating all along."

Kallias looked apologetic, yet remained quiet. Just as he seemed ready to speak, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Xanthippus entered smiling. "We want Priestess Melaina with the fleet," he said. "They would sail the triremes through the Gates of Hades for her if she willed it, I swear. We took a vote and gained unanimous consent."

Melaina slipped back behind Kallias, not wanting the general to see her face. Mention of sailing further east brought sudden fear to her.

Kallias told him they'd consider the matter and give a decision before the fleet sailed. "She's heavy with child," he said.

The general left, and Kallias turned to Melaina. "You can't withdraw your support now."

But her courage had left her entirely. "O Father Zeus! What a fearful thing to ask," Melaina said. "Let me think. Had I to say this moment, I'd return home. You promised my father you'd take care of me." As she spoke, tears filled her eyes. "The unborn babe, my lone feeble ally in anguish, just kicked me in the ribs. It too senses the peril. But to give the warriors an example of cowardice, when they desperately need a call to valor, would be unseemly. Allow a little of this night, Lord Kallias, for me to find my courage."

CHAPTER 34: A Call to Courage

Melaina settled down for a rest while Kallias gathered his armor in anticipation of an early start, but a fierce tempest arose, and he feared they'd be kept from sailing. Violent blasts stirred the sea, the rough surge setting ships pitching and rocking. Melaina rose again and stepped outside to watch the crews scurry to bring the beached crafts farther upon the sand to prevent them from being ripped apart by the raging waves. Priests worried the winds, and Melaina, with her robe wrapped tight about her to deflect the gusts, fell to wondering if somehow she'd further offended the gods.

Kallias and the generals seized the opportunity to sleep, but Melaina, with her insomnia, kept dreamless vigil over their slumbers. She thought of seeing her mother again, that she might comfort her over the Hierophant's death, and she longed for Eleusis even in its ashen state. Oh, how I long for the sight of home! I really am an exile, she thought. Will I ever see my home again?

After hours of listening to thunderstorms unleash their fury, Melaina also dozed and had visions of Iphigeneia with her father Agamemnon. She woke briefly, dozed again, and dreamed of herself at the slaughter stone on Delos as Iphigeneia had been at Aulis. She woke remembering the children who'd worked the silver mines at Laurium, the worms, how their labor bought the fleet of ships that saved Greece during the battle of Salamis, and now made the liberation of Ionia possible. Their toil must not be in vain, their suffering come to some good. My own child could end up there, she thought.

A noise startled Melaina. On the windowsill above sleeping Kallias hovered a small, big-billed bird with a bushy crest, a halkyon with a fish in its beak. Some god had turned it aside while it flew aloft and settled it upon the pane. Melaina didn't know whether she was awake or dreaming. She'd thought the halkyon was a mythical bird with no earthly form, as legend told of its calming the waters to nest at sea.

"We are two of a kind, sweet twittering shuttle," Melaina said, "I may weave my own nest upon the sea before long."

The halkyon beat the fish upon the sill to kill it, as if knocking upon the door of Hades, swallowed, then uttered a laughter-like screech.

Melaina realized its clatter was fraught with omen, and that its shrill voice prophesied the ceasing of winds. Melaina spoke to it again. "O halkyon, sing your doleful song. I know you ever bemoan a homeland. I match your tearful cry, an unwinged songstress longing for Eleusis."

A thought came to Melaina, a twinge of guilt with it. On the far side of the Aegean, on some ancient Asian shore, a happenstance might occur in which she could avenge her father's death, as she'd promised him. She took a deep breath and made her decision. "My sweet Lord, see your grandchild through this."

She touched Kallias as he lay wrapped in soft sheepskin. "Kallias! Wake. You must climb rugged Kynthos and propitiate Artemis. We must dedicate me to this voyage, and the stormy blast shall cease."

He stirred, stared at her in alarm. "What daemon has hold of you this time?"

"The halkyon, kingfisher of the sea that knows the whims of waves, spoke as you slumbered. By the power of Artemis and no other will the sea be calmed, even as favorable gusts were given Agamemnon at Aulis when he sacrificed Iphigeneia."

Kallias wiped sleep from his eyes. "Ridiculous! I see no bird. The gods haven't demanded a human sacrifice in hundreds of years."

"Not sacrifice, Lord Kallias, dedication. I'll bend to the generals' request and sail with the fleet. I can't follow the path of the divine virgin, but she still has use of me. We'll offer a hind in my place."

Kallias took her hands in his, shook his head. "Last night, your tears provoked my pity. I now call back what I said. Don't risk this trip into the jaws of death. I can't bear to see you and the child in peril, two lives joined with mine as I've sworn before Zeus."

Melaina wondered again at this renewed commitment, but put a finger to his lips. "Listen, Lord Kallias. It's as if the winds here on Delos are those absent at Aulis that cost Iphigeneia her life."

"Still, this is a man's war."

"Look at it through mine eyes, and see the right of it. The first time I set foot on Salamis, during the earthquake, and during my prayer the night before the sea battle, all the strength of Hellas turned to me. And now, these ships, whither they sail, depend upon me."

"No. It's blind arrogance to think that all depends upon you."

Melaina faltered. She fell quiet a moment, but then took Kallias' hand, pulled it to her breast. "Dearest Kallias, how I wish you were right, but I know better. The battle must be fought before a temple of Demeter and Kore. Just as my mother must be at Plataea before a temple there, so must I be at one in Ionia. Put me where you will, in the bilge, on the prow, at the stern. Wherever I'm least likely to cause disruption."

"But this will be a sea battle. You were right earlier. I did promise your father that I'd keep you safe."

"He'd want his daughter to show courage. Besides, you'll need me even more if fighting at sea. I'll create a temple aboard ship. The wrath of Demeter over the burning of Eleusis howls inside me. Through the Mother and Maid, goddesses of divine deliverance, we have the power to rid the Aegean and all Ionian Hellas of barbarian suppression forevermore."

"This would be unfair to the unborn. Board the next boat back to Eleusis and the arms of your mother."

"And not to your mother and our home?" she said, once again noticing his vacillation. Still, her mind in this matter was set. "I mustn't cling to life too fondly, Lord Kallias. If the unnamed babe is indeed divine, let the deity who came to me in the dark protect it. I'll give my life, as centuries ago did Iphigeneia, for Hellas. I'll even risk the divine child's life. But take me aboard, and throw off the yoke of Persia."

Thus, she spoke convincingly, and Kallias rose from bed, leaving to wake his comrades.

"She's agreed to go," he said.

Word spread like fire along a dry hillside in autumn when all turns golden and lifeless, and a spark of flint may start a raging heat. So the warriors were heard in song throughout the island, their hearts inflamed. "The priestess accompanies us!" rang the cry.

"We'll need priestess Keladeine," Melaina told them.

Quickly, they drove a red female deer from the sacred herd to the mountain's lofty summit, ghostly shapes of nearby Mykonos and Reneia hovering off shore, exposed by the blinding flash of Zeus' lightning. The men heaped a stone altar, and all hunkered over at the crash of thunder, wreathing their brows with myrtle.

Priestess Keladeine came forward, invoking Artemis with many prayers as she poured libations on the blazing hearth, and with Kallias, beseeched the goddess turn aside the stormy blasts. At Keladeine's command, youths danced a measure in full armor, clashing swords against their shields to lose the ill-omened wail of wind in the din.

At the edge of firelight appeared beasts of wild wood, wolves and rabbits that had left their lairs and thickets to witness the dedication to their patron goddess. The generals feasted and sang praise to the goddess of Kynthos, Artemis most venerable.

As the fire raged, Kallias cried, "Look, Melaina, in the east! What constellation is that rising above Ionia's far shore?"

"Giant Orion," she answered shouting over the wind's blast, "Artemis' hunting companion and her one true love, chasing the Pleiads' sevenfold track. A son of Poseidon, Orion could walk on waves. This is just one more sign that Artemis broods over this narrow isle and directs us ever toward Asia. Stack on the rest of the hind, Lord Kallias, lean rump pieces and sturdy shanks."

"Thigh bones and fat are all tradition demands."

"Artemis would have more than my fat and thighbones."

Melaina saw priestess Keladeine step back out of sight, Kimon standing alongside her, and the effeminate Scythian close by. She'd not noticed them before, but now the Scythian led two blind slaves on ropes. She started to ask about them, then thought better of it. Melaina remembered the reason Keladeine was here at Delos. "I have but one additional request. Keladeine must go with me."

"By whose will does her plight carry any importance?"

"Apollo at Delphi commanded her. She's been on Delos two long months awaiting a boat to Ionia. Yield to divine will, Lord Kallias. Artemis is the great mother goddess of Asia. Long she's suffered her temple at Ephesus in Persian hands. She needs Keladeine as priestess there."

Keladeine stepped forward from the dark. "I beg in the name of all you have at home, do not leave me here."

Kallias shook his head, but spoke to the generals, who eagerly consented.

"Then bring the dog too," Kallias said. "We'll see if he's any more than a nuisance." He took a long look at the Scythian. "Bring the barbarian also. We'll need all the help we can get." But he balked at the blind men. "The sightless will be of no use. See that they remain on Delos." He turned to the Scythian. "By the gods, man. What form of being is a Scythian that he'd blind another man and lead him about on a rope?"

Melaina held young Keladeine fast to her.

The sacrifice complete, the generals scattered the ashes, descended the hill, and the call went out urging all aboard.

"Hegesistratus!" cried Xanthippus, "stand lookout aboard the lead trireme, guide us to Samos. The other Samians can return in their own ships. In ancient times, Agamemnon missed Troy and made an aborted assault on the wrong city. Let that not happen to us."

Crews frapped their ships with papyrus cables to withstand the violent sea, undergirding hulls weakened during the battle of Salamis. The fleet drew anchor, loosened hawsers from the sacred rocks, and rowed out of Delian harbor, wind and sea still lashing the shore.

*

Melaina stood at the poop deck, watching the lights of ships. She felt moisture between her legs, a sudden sharp pain and gush of water. A wave of panic seized her, and she grabbed Keladeine's arm, realizing that her embryonic membrane had ruptured.

CHAPTER 35: Voyage to a Distant Shore

Melaina fought through the throbbing pain that gripped her abdomen while watching the constellation of lights from nearby warships that broke the darkness. The armada emerged from the shores about Delos and fell into formation. She held to Keladeine and refused to go below while the violent sea still churned. She wondered if she'd brought the fleet to doom in the pounding surf.

Kimon had come aboard with them, Aphrodite stalking Keladeine.

The ships' crews broke into song to bolster spirits, some only whispers on the wings of distant wind, but Melaina's own crew cried loud and strong. "O Paean! Paean, never leave us! Arrogance is the ruin of cities, but brave men stand as their loftiest bulwark. Gods are wrathful with a coward, so may I fly far from that reproach. Courage is ever a tower raised against the foe. Oh joy, Paean! Oh joy! Paean, never leave us!"

They shouted louder and louder, drowning the sounds of the sea-lashing wind and the creaking sailyard. She'd never been with men going off in defense of country and felt the yoke of comradeship, the call to glory. This was the antithesis of Artemis' euphoric freedom. Gray-eyed Athena, dreadful and mighty goddess, who stirs men to battle and delights in the clash of arms, she has shackled me, Melaina thought. Oh, dear goddess, strengthen my resolve against this contraction-caused pain.

The roaring bellows of Boreas still raged, and Melaina, refusing Keladeine's attempts to get her below deck, watched as gusts shook shrouds and billowed the fine-linen sail. The oarsmen turned their profitless oars aside ship like the wings of sea birds. As the ship entered open water, Melaina sensed the goddess adding flame to her heart and felt the stab of birth pains lift.

The helmsman astride his poop-deck seat fought the tiller, a frightfully wild thing in a tempest. Melaina lifted her purple veil, tying it around the man's waist, as had divine Ino to save Odysseus from a harvest of evil winds. Dowels and belly-timbers groaned, holding the ship together.

Melaina recognized the worry of the troops and prayed directly into the stormy blast. "O goddess Leukothea, mistress of deep-bosomed sea, Ino, who delights in waves but delivers mortals from wretched death in the deep's destructive ire, defend these well-benched ships from old Oceanus' stormy waves and bring upon Poseidon's raging sea a fair stillness. At the end of our voyage we'll work the wrath of the gods who dwell on snowy Olympus."

The crew had not long to wait. Soon, as the halkyon had prophesied, windless air smoothed the swirling waves and lulled the sea to rest. They dropped sail, trusted in the calm, and mightily at the oarlocks bent to rowing. Their broad blades tossed sea spray threshing, heaven's brightest star finally rising to announce the light of young dawn. Melaina slipped below as the oars bore the ships on, strong stokes slicing silent sea. Not even the storm-footed steeds of Poseidon could have overtaken them. Dawn rose without a breath.

From under the poop deck where she'd fashioned a resting-place on furs and old clothes, Keladeine ministered her medicines, having brought a bag of herbal remedies from the Isthmus. Melaina rested and gradually gained strength. She felt as safe in this young woman's care as with her mother's, and the baby became quiet inside her abdomen. No longer did it struggle to enter the world. Melaina slept.

When bright Helios' chariot reached its zenith, Melaina and Keladeine came on deck to watch the gleaming plains of Ikaria, golden-grassed isle, appear to port. Melaina had to raise her voice for Keladeine to hear above the rhythmic patter of oars, the aulete's tune, and the grunts and groans of cursing seamen. As the broad blades broke the water's surface, Melaina saw rainbows in the spray, little phantoms of purple that were glittering symbols of Iris, the winged oathgiver and messenger of Hera.

As afternoon wore on, the aulete grew tired and clamored for relief, but no one else had the skills to keep a beat. Melaina felt so rested she stepped forward, her own aulos strapped about her neck, and matched his beat. The boatswain then motioned the aulete below for a rest, and Melaina took over to lighten the oarsmen's work. She sat at the mast amidships, her aulos playing a stout measure for the long-stroking oars, now a swift stroke, now a pause for the blade of pine. Leading the mighty formation, they swept forward as she'd seen Kallias' stallions surge under the whip. Apollo sent music-loving dolphins to gambol around the dusky prow as he'd done for Achilles on his way to Troy centuries before. Bewitched by Melaina's aulos music, they leapt for joy while escorting the fleet to the far-off land.

"Ho!" went up a shout from the bow officer. He'd spotted a column of black smoke trailing skyward in the distance. Hegesistratus looked toward Melaina. She knew he was thinking of her vision of Samos burning. Had she been right?

A squall overtook them, lightning flashed among dark clouds, and the aulete returned from his rest to relieve Melaina. She and Keladeine went below to the treasured water tun and brought up a glistening cup for each oarsman.

The ship was long-seasoned and weather-stained, wrinkled, hull black with pitch and tiller handle overlaid with ancient ivory. The reconditioned ship was formed of silver-fir, the cutwater and cathead of manna-ash. At the center prow, Kallias had fitted a creaky beam of old oak from Dodona that now uttered a wordy groan with every roll and jostle. Was it a tree prophet? Melaina thought its voice sounded human. She'd had enough of augury and shuddered against reading the future there.

As darkness again encroached, the bo'sun lit the ship's three bronze lanterns astern for those following behind, and they cast a glow that glistened on the sweat-streaked cheeks of the oarsmen. Melaina, captured by the aulete's beat, hummed along as she had on her boat ride to Salamis, her clear-ringing voice lofting like wings of high-flying birds. Shortly, Keladeine sat beside Melaina, her lips adding a lily-like maiden voice, and the two hummed an alluring, wordless melody. Their voices were more melting than the zither's note.

The oarsmen delighted in their song, and each rowed steadily stronger. But a single word raced amongst them, and the oar-beat instantly slacked, their drive stolen. "Sirens!" someone said, flashing fear in every heart.

"They think we're the clear-voiced daughters of Achelous," said Keladeine.

"No wonder," said Melaina, "Kore sends Sirens from the Underworld to lure seamen to the land of skulls. They think we'll draw them to their deaths."

The girls were interrupted by a shout from the bow officer, "Ho, yonder!" The ship floundered instantly, oars held dripping in bright moonlight while all stared out at lantern lights in the distance. "Persians!" shouted Leotychides. "Even in the dark I know their shape. We've lost the element of surprise."

"Yes," said Kallias, "but they sail away."

The captain ordered oars in the water again, and the fleet slipped silently forward. Soon, a distant light signified land, the southern coast of Samos. The fleet then fell in behind the lead ship, and all navigated the shore northward.

Another shout rose up from the bow officer. To starboard were faint lights of ships' lanterns in the distance.

"The Persian ships are skirting the coast of Asia," said Kallias. "They've retreated as Hegesistratus foresaw."

A shout of dismay went up from Hegesistratus. "Flames! It's the temple of Hera."

Melaina stared off to port into the flickering light on shore. As they got closer, flames scintillated, coals glowed. The column of smoke they'd seen earlier in the day had been the first omen. Melaina sensed all eyes turned upon her. Why couldn't I have been wrong, just this once? she wondered.

The Greek fleet sailed into the deep harbor unmolested, and, dropping the yardarm and stowing it inside the hollow mast crutch, turned outward and rowed violently to drive the ship sternwards to a mooring. Once inside the breakwater, all was quiet. On shore, Melaina saw shadowed shapes run about in the dark, then torches. Archers amassed at the poop deck and fitted arrows to taut strings in case Persian warriors should appear. Melaina heard the softened strains of wind-blown music and saw a band of soldiers moving, moon glittering bright on lance heads.

Hegesistratus stepped forward. "Ho!" he shouted, "is the island free of foreign menace?"

A large, cow-eyed woman stepped from the crowd. "No barbarians here. Nor in the city north."

"How about the tyrant Theomestor?"

"All Samians enlisted to fight were taken with the fleet, Theomestor also."

The fleet coasted into the slips, tied halyards, and lowered gangways. Leotychides called for assembly.

As Melaina stepped onto the dock, the woman, more beautiful than she'd first appeared, greeted her.

"I'm priestess of Hera," she said, "Chera, they call me." The widow.

"I'm from Eleusis," said Melaina.

"The sacred temple of the Mysteries?"

"Yes, my mother is priestess of Demeter."

The woman stopped, her tresses waving in the breeze and her large eyes opening even wider. She wore an excess of bracelets, and her snowy chiton swept wide with every step. Chera was a middle-aged woman, one of great dignity, with braided locks carefully arranged over her breast and shoulders. "I've met your mother," she said. "I was initiated years ago. We ourselves have a temple of Eleusinian Demeter close by, on the coast of Asia below Mt. Mykale. It's nothing compared to that at Eleusis, but still, we cherish it." Chera walked Melaina and Keladeine to the sacred precinct, her purple robe wafting aromas of exotic ointments. "Hera's sanctuary was at one time the largest in Hellas, but is now in ruins." She spoke to her handmaid. "Bear the fire before us. Scorch the air so we breathe heaven's breath free of Persian miasma."

"So is Eleusis," said Melaina, "burned to the ground."

Chera stopped again to stare in wonder. The slave woman went before them, carrying the blazing torch close to the ground and passing the hot flame from side to side along their path. She continued her expurgating ritual into the chamber, carefully singeing every corner.

"Sweep the flame wherever the tread of unclean feet has soiled," said Chera. After the woman had left the walls black with soot, she added, "Quench the torch. You've paid heaven, now bear it back to the hearth."

The group of generals and other commanders converged on the small building and packed inside. Leotychides spoke, first of their good fortune, then of Persia having abandoned all the Greek islands. "I question proceeding any further," he said. "Why tempt fate? We've liberated Samos. Let's return forthwith and savor our conquest."

Xanthippus, not yet having found a seat, turned on him. "Don't second-guess your decision at Delos. The task was assigned not here on earth but in Heaven. My friend, why cherish an incomplete victory? Fate beckons with no need of a helmsman to show the way."

But the commanders milled about, mumbling under their breaths, not wanting to risk the lives of their men so far from home. Some wanted to proceed to the Hellespont, capture Xerxes' cables used to cross into Europe, then return.

Kimon walked among the generals, speaking insultingly first in the face of one, then another. "Long we've heard Spartans brag of courage, yet all those here would seem cowards. Who amongst you has the legs to finish the task?"

Leotychides grew red in the face. "Kimon, I warned you about insults. I'll not tolerate them further!"

Melaina could no longer remain quiet. She rose to her feet and walked out among the generals, searching the eyes of each. She could see the weariness there, but knew the job was not finished. "Wherein lies reverence for the solemn oaths you've taken?" she asked. "Remember the Styx water? Yet, already your capricious hearts cry for release from your vows."

Kallias fixed her with a stern glance, and Melaina realized she shouldn't invite further shame. Yet her heart was firm. "Zeus demands action!" she shouted.

"Listen to the girl. What courage!" Kimon cried. "Have our men become women, our women men?"

"She won't have to face Tigranes," shouted one. "He's the best-looking man in the Persian ranks. Perhaps she covets a look at the general."

Laughter broke out, and Melaina realized that her woman's opinion carried no weight now. She'd heard much of this Tigranes in the two days past, but not of his good looks.

Kallias took Melaina by the arm, but Kimon's outrage boiled over onto her. Melaina turned on them again. "You dipped your right hand in blood and made a promise. Though the early path home seems less risky, think you not Zeus ever forgets a promise. Remember the returns of those who sieged Troy then lost the gods' favor. Corpses thronged the great sea highways and piled up on beaches from Asia to Attica." She stopped when Kallias' grip on her arm became painful.

Then Xanthippus glanced at Kimon. The verbal thrashing Kimon had given him on Delos still seemed to fuel his actions. "A single sea battle will do the job. Let us offload masts, yards, sails, and lines, and make for the coast of Asia."

Just then, a herald entered the chamber. "Attention!" he shouted. "We've received word from our scouts that the Persians have dismissed the Phoenician contingent of their fleet. We outnumber Persia two to one."

A great roar rose in favor of battle.

Leotychides turned to Melaina and Deiphonus, "Perform another augury. I'll not go into battle without favorable omens."

Melaina remembered the thunderstorms that had passed the fleet earlier in the day. "We'll augur lightning," she said, "read Zeus' will directly."

She and Deiphonus stepped out into the night and climbed a nearby hill. Melaina selected a stick of old wood and staked out a space on the ground for observations, as she'd seen Udaeüs at Epidaurus. At midnight with clear sky and calm winds, she took up her position. After praying and sacrificing to dedicate the ground, she bid Deiphonus sit praying to the gods for a sign while she scanned the heavens.

Melaina saw flashes followed by distant rumblings, but wondered how she'd ever decipher them. She recalled Udaeüs' teachings and concentrated on the color of each flash, the quality of sound.

Deiphonus questioned her about such augury. "Seems lightning arises because clouds bump together. How could that reveal divine will?"

"I say, clouds bump together to cause lightning, to send Zeus' council."

"How do you tell which contains a good omen, which bad?"

"High-thundering Zeus stands on starry Olympus, hurtling any one of three thunderbolts forged for him by a Cyclops. The first he launches on his own, as a warning. These are mostly seen in cloud tops and never touch the ground. The second, both terrifying and dangerous, but of good omen, strike the ground causing no damage. These he throws after deliberation with his twelve counselors. The third, destructive and final, he sends only with the Fates' permission. With this third, Zeus killed Asklepios after he'd raised the dead."

"Passing strange! Zeus throws the same ones over and over?"

"Yes, but above all, the favored section of heaven holds the key."

The generals gathered around but Melaina shooed them beyond her marked sacred ground. She faced north, stretched out her arms. "Look!" she shouted, "to the northeast. Flashes illuminate the clouds closest to heaven. These carry the warning I spoke of, but to the southeast, lightning strikes the ground along the coast where the Persians lie in ambush."

"What does it mean?" asked Leotychides.

"Did not Zeus send Agamemnon a lightning bolt on the right as a favorable sign to siege Troy?"

"Yea, so Homer tells us."

"What more do you need! Can Zeus be any clearer?"

Still, the generals milled about mumbling. What was she to do? She heard an owl's haunting hoots, saw it fly east into the darkness. Then remembered blind Teiresias' bird observatory at Thebes. "There!" she said, "an owl, a favorable omen from Athena, daughter of Metis most wise of all immortals. It cuts a course east toward Asia into the lightening."

Deiphonus asked, "Is there no difference in these signs, the lightning and the owl?"

"Much difference, Lord Deiphonus. The lightning was a requested sign, granted in response to your prayer. The owl is an offered sign, a call to fulfill divine will. Amazing! Since Athena, Zeus' war-loving daughter, is protector of Athens, we can but follow. I've never seen such favorable portents." Melaina turned on Leotychides. "You rebuff Zeus, fail to heed such omens, and we'll suffer divine wrath. If you want to make it home, your path leads only through Asia."

Many voices raised in favor of fighting. She'd spoken well.

Xanthippus glanced toward Kimon, pushed Leotychides aside. "Are we to spend an eternity groveling our fate? Back to the ships!" he cried. "Clear the decks of masts and sails. Bring up the boarding bridges. Weigh anchors. You heard it from the Maid. Death to the barbarians!"

CHAPTER 36: Reviewing the Troops

Melaina would have stayed on Samos but for the fleet's tenuous state of mind. She boarded over Kallias' objections, but with Xanthippus speaking her part. Then Kallias motioned Keladeine aboard also should Melaina again experience problems with her pregnancy.

They launched the ships, stored the white sails in the hold, let the rudder down astern, and fastened it securely. Now that they were finally going into battle, everyone voiced a complaint. Shouts of shortages went up, some grumbling about broken oars, others of missing ropes or anchors. Hoplites scurried to ready armor, gather axes and spears. Archers strung bows and sharpened arrow tips.

"This is not sound reasoning, taking a pregnant woman into battle!" cried Kallias.

"You made the decision when we left Delos," answered Xanthippus.

"Yes, but her water hadn't broken then." Kallias watched Keladeine and Lykos, ever fearful the wolf would nip him. He scowled in disgust at the Scythian.

Melaina didn't mention her own misgivings. She'd had light, periodic pains since landing on Samos, although she'd not even told Keladeine. Still, she chided Kallias. "How is it men by the thousands give their lives for Hellas, yet you bemoan a single woman who's caused you so much trouble?"

Kallias was slow to speak. "Perhaps, my feelings. You're certainly no longer the girl the camel frightened." As he spoke, dawn kindled on the eastern horizon, a blaze of yellow. "Death in battle may come to us all," he added. "If the time comes, you and I, we both will be at death's door together."

Melaina felt the cool breeze and shivered, then looked into the face of the wind as the ship drifted from the slip. Feeling herself cower inside, she pulled Keladeine close and wondered what dreadful fate they sailed toward, if the outcome would come swiftly or drag for days. She felt as if she stood before some dreadful abyss. The baby shifted, strained against her abdominal wall as if readying for some stroke of doom.

She and Keladeine stood at the rail of the poop, next to Deiphonus. Grave and beautiful they were, white-clad, golden-haired sisters. When would she ever return to Eleusis? She couldn't imagine it now in ashes and her grandfather no longer stalking its halls. Ever she missed her mother and prayed to the gods for her safety with the troops at Plataea. Melaina rubbed her tired eyes. She'd only caught a little sleep in the last two days, and even it had been disturbed by turbulent dreams.

The ship resounded with shouted orders, churning oars, and the rhythmic toot of the aulete. Hoplites shuffled about on deck, rattling swords, shields, and greaves. Oarsmen put up side-screen leathers, shallow tents extending along both sides of the ship to protect themselves from the rain of Persian arrows. Yesterday, they'd come into Samos in line-abreast formation, but now, coming to Asia's coastline, they assumed line-ahead, two long strings of ships extending into the channel behind.

Midday, the late-summer sun bore down as they skirted the southern coast of the peninsula jutting out toward Samos, brooding, forested, shadow-laden. Long they strained their eyes over the choppy sea, looking for mustered enemy ships in the bay, but none came to meet them. When they drew alongside the coast, a cry went up from the bow officer. "There!" he shouted, "fresh-cut timber." The Persians, knowing their vessels were unequal in battle, had beached them, thrown up a wooden palisade, and dug a ditch. They laid in wait.

Melaina saw a mountain looming inland and called to Hegesistratus. "What peak is that?" she shouted above the threshing oars.

"Mykale, mother of ferocious beasts, by all accounts."

Melaina remembered Chera's words. She'd said that a sanctuary of Eleusinian Demeter lay nearby on the coast of Asia.

"Kallias," Melaina said, pulling at his arm. "Legend tells of a sanctuary of Demeter in Asia founded by Philistus when he accompanied Neileus, son of Kodrus, who came here to found Miletus. Could that be it? This would fulfill the oracle's final requirement."

Kallias called out, "Leotychides, Melaina has spotted the temple of Demeter mentioned by Chera. Delphi said the war would be won only if fought before a temple of Eleusinian Demeter and on Athenian soil. Athenians founded that temple."

Melaina added, "Zeus wouldn't have brought us here if the temple wasn't nearby."

"They'll have summoned reinforcements from Sardis," said Leotychides. "If they hold up inside the palisade, we'll never win a siege. But I'll not tolerate another accusation of cowardice from Kimon. This is my last chance to avenge Leonidas' defeat at Thermopylae. We've been hoping for a land battle." He waved Xanthippus' ship in close and shouted across the short span of water. "We'll siege the palisade! You'll soon witness Spartan courage."

"But we've prepared for a sea battle!" Xanthippus shouted back. "Haven't the troops for a siege. Not only that, if the Phoenicians return, our ships will be sitting ducks. We'll have no way home."

Leotychides waved him off, and though Xanthippus' face was barely visible, Melaina saw clouds of concern gathered there. Leotychides ordered the standard bearer to signal the other ships ashore. The man came forward holding the flag upright, dipped right, then left, raised, lowered it, oriented the head one direction, then another. When the fleet had been so informed, Leotychides ordered his ship close to shore before the Persian palisade. A lead line sounded the depths to ensure they wouldn't run aground. "Kallias!" he called. "You have the loudest voice onboard. Call to the Ionian Hellenes aligned with Persia to revolt when we attack. No Persian will understand you."

From shore, Melaina heard echoes of shouting workmen still hard at building the palisade, saw huge timbers dragged into place by oxen, and clouds of dust billowing skyward. Alongshore, the Persian infantry mustered in full battle gear.

Kallias stepped to the rail. Just as he looked ready to shout, Melaina said, "Give them a watchword, 'Hera'."

Kallias shouted across the water, "Men of Ionia! When going into battle, remember first your love of freedom, and next, a password for you to approach us, 'Hera,' whose beloved temple lays in ashes on Samos. Those in league with us will never regret it."

With that, they sailed east along the coast to where the rest of the fleet was offloading. Leotychides ordered the ship through the riptide, prow-first onto the sandy beach, and had the gangway lowered.

Kallias shouted to Leotychides. "That sanctuary," he said, pointing up the coastline. "The battle must be fought there."

Melaina exited with the men but stopped Keladeine at the boat's railing. "You're forbidden to come ashore," Melaina said.

"Leave me aboard? How ridiculous! With you suffering as you are," said Keladeine, "I'd be a comfort."

"Apollo has ordered you to Ephesus, not to be my handmaid. Stay here until it is safe."

Kallias had his own opinion. "That damn dog has come this far, he's going to fight for his food." He gave the order for Keladeine to offload with the rest. "Let's see if she can use that bow." He added, "And the Scythian. I hear the girlish bastards can fight in spite of their appearance."

But the Scythian wasn't all that agreeable. "I'll come with you if you show a little respect. I've found Hellenes less than accepting."

Kallias waved him off.

Melaina shook her head at Keladeine although she knew that further argument was useless. "I see no reason to risk you. One of your mother's daughters has already given her life defending me."

The host set foot at a strip of beach lined with groves of dusky poplars and drooping willows. Fowl sprang up, a tumult of flapping wings over the meadows and marshes: geese, cranes, swans. To Melaina, it was as if all things fair had left Mykale, making way for the loathsome task before them. The air vibrated with armor's dull clank and came alive with the rush of warriors.

After the ships had been offloaded, but for the few oarsmen staying aboard, they pushed back from the beach and rode at anchor offshore. Each ship then let go a tethered iron mass off the bow and another at the stern to hold against broadsiding waves.

The divisions, commanded by Xanthippus and Kimon, then deployed on high ground, and as his troops did so, Xanthippus came to Melaina.

"My life is in danger from one our own," he said. "I fear Kimon will seize the opportunity to take it during battle."

Melaina had seen this feud simmer all the past year. Xanthippus was right. It should end now.

"Kallias!" she called. "Bring Kimon before me, if he will."

Kallias called Kimon from donning battle armour, and the three of them stood before her. She turned to Kallias. "These two are at speartips with each other, over the imprisonment and death of Kimon's father. Broker a peace that will see them through this battle without one of them seizing the chaos of battle to perform some deadly mischief on the other."

Kallias turned on both men. "I've seen this hatred simmer myself. Though both of you be generals, and me but a field commander, by all that's holy, if one of you dies, regardless the circumstance, I'll see that the other is charged with his murder." He grabbed both of them by the front of their armour. "Do you hear me? This is about saving Hellas, and not about person vendettas."

Kimon, large that he was, shoved Kallias back, looked at Melaina and then glanced away. "I admit that I have harbored hatred of Xanthippus over my father's fate. But never would I, nor will I, strike at Xanthippus during battle. If there is a problem, I'm the one in danger of the coward's act."

Xanthippus wouldn't look at Kimon, or Kallias, but spoke to Melaina directly. "I'm not a man prone to violence, nor have I ever served more than divine Justice. I'll take Kimon at his word. Let this be the end of it."

All three of them dispersed to their commands without a further word. Melaina wondered at this man who'd married her, his fearless way with men more powerful than he. Proud she was to be Kallias' wife.

Kallias had but a regiment, and deployed it close by the sanctuary of Demeter. The soldiers stood in ranks at his right while sea waves raged to his left. Leotychides walked before them as commanding general. The troops complained of fighting on land. "Just when we get ourselves in the mood to fight at sea, you beach us on this desolate, beast-infested coast."

Melaina stood beside Keladeine watching a bewildered band of warriors. "They never thought they'd see battle when they came to Delos," Kallias said. "They're new recruits, a lurid rabble that enlisted at the last minute."

One with eyes the size of saucers said, "We're oarsmen, poor freemen come only to power the triremes."

"Surely you're not unlearned in evils?" Keladeine asked.

"I'll place them in the rear," said Leotychides, "to kill the wounded and despoil the dead."

Melaina shuddered, the horrors of war. She tried to walk away, but Xanthippus pulled her aside, again, his face molded to another great agony. "Back on Delos," he said, "you saw the future, all our fates. Will my men survive this land battle?"

"Not all can possibly escape such a bloodletting," she said. She walked from him again and stooped to lift an aged timber partially buried in sand.

But Xanthippus followed her, came closer. She realized his concern was personal. "I've a ten-year-old son," he said quietly. "When my wife Agarista was pregnant, she dreamed of being mounted by a lion. Within the week, she delivered. One day he'll be a great man if I can but live to raise him. He would be such a gift to Hellas. Would you speak to the Great Mother?"

Melaina looked in his eyes, saw fear lodged there and thought it was for his own hide, not that of his son. "Don't worry, Lord Xanthippus. Your son will have his father."

As he ambled off, she marveled at how easily she'd spoken this prophecy, her certainty he would live. Had she simply spoken out of frustration? She looked at the staff she'd retrieved from the sand. It was a crooked wand with a curved top and resembled a battle trumpet. It was an augur's staff. It looked familiar. Her heart leapt! Was this a miracle? Perhaps her grandfather, the Hierophant, wasn't dead after all. But just as she raised it clenched tight in her fist, she had another partial seizure as she'd had on Delos, and felt she'd taken hold of a lightning bolt. Saw the flash, felt the sizzle.

She saw an apparition, a hallucination of phantoms and wraiths. She couldn't speak but heard Keladeine shout and felt Kallias shake her. Quickly as it came, it left, but her eyes glazed over and her tongue felt thick. Her legs almost gave way. The generals gathered about her and the warriors pulled close, battle gear squeaking and rattling. Melaina tried to make sense of her vision. Her own words seemed to come from outside herself.

"I've witnessed...I've witnessed the battle on the mainland," she said, "just seen the Hellenes rout the Persian forces at Plataea. Mardonius...he's dead. A Hellene now rides his white stallion."

A great commotion arose among the troops, but some doubted she spoke the truth. They milled about voicing contrary words. "What's this?" asked Leotychides. "How can she know events on the other side of the Aegean?"

"It's the sacred sickness," said Kallias. "She's had a vision."

Xanthippus' worried eyes cleared. "We've taken back Attica!" he shouted.

A great bellow came from the troops. So eager were they for encouragement that disbelief was not possible. Fact it seemed, the words sweet as dinner-table dainties.

Melaina shouted into the crowd. "It seemed as though I saw through my own mother's eyes as she stood firm before the temple of Demeter in Plataea. They've overcome the enemy and now hold siege to Thebes."

Still Leotychides wanted more. "Give another word to help us with this prophecy, Lady Melaina, any further assurance to lighten our hearts."

As Melaina's mind cleared, she felt a flash of rage. Keladeine tried to restrain her, but Melaina broke free. "How many times do I have to tell you antelope hearts not to worry? Aaugggg. . .!" she shouted, then tried to control her anger, knowing it was a remnant of the seizure. She ordered Deiphonus, who stood nearby, to sacrifice a goat while she thought of a way to add to the omens. She turned back to Leotychides.

Keladeine warned her, "Take care, Melaina. Watch your words, lower your voice."

"I'm all right," she said. "I have control of my temper now." She turned to the generals. "This staff I just found here on the beach belongs to my grandfather, Hierophant of the Mysteries," she said. "The aged timber has been passed down from Eumolpus himself, the first to be initiated into Demeter's Mysteries. Ever since, initiates have taken turns holding it when observing the epiphany. Many times I've held it in my own hand. Only my grandfather could have left it here. The staff would not have left his hand but for a reason: Zeus willed it. Even now, Persians must hold him hostage in the palisade. It was left here as a sign."

A man came running from the forest toward them shouting, "Hera! Hera! Hera!" Leotychides ordered the man apprehended and brought before him. He was an Ionian escapee. After the Ionian caught his breath, he gushed news about the enemy forces. "Persian leaders place no confidence in the Ionians," he said. "They've confiscated all our arms. At their first opportunity, all Ionians will change sides. The generals are desperate to inspire courage in their soldiers. They say that Xerxes is coming with a mighty army of reinforcements. A great lie! Xerxes languishes in disgrace at Sardis. Their one hope is in numbers. Ever the generals scan your ranks to calculate their advantage."

Meanwhile, Deiphonus had completed his sacrifice. He shouted that Zeus had sent favorable omens. At this, Leotychides called a quick conference and proposed they further tempt the Persians by causing their own Hellene forces to seem smaller. After several moments of heated arguing, Leotychides decided to split the forces. He and his Spartans would proceed up a torrent into the thickly wooded hills to attack the Persian flank.

Xanthippus was beside himself. "Leotychides decides to beach the ships and attack the palisade, and now escapes to the safety of cover while we're left in the open to suffer Persian arrows and lances."

But the decision held, and as the Spartans disappeared up the ravine, Xanthippus climbed a sand hill and spoke to the warriors while standing on grass tufts.

"Don battle armor!" he shouted. "We fight for all the Hellene islands and for Ionia. The young priestess, Kynegeiros' daughter, has dashed all our doubts. Zeus himself stands beside us; fierce Athena urges us on."

Melaina raised her fist in the air and shouted, "Avenge my father, Lord Kynegeiros!"

Kallias then led Melaina and Keladeine, the Scythian trailing behind, from the beach to the small sacred village at the edge of the forest and to the temple of Demeter. The men stayed outside, and the women entered. Inside, Melaina and Keladeine found it vacated except for the occupation of a great stench. Melaina spotted what she thought was a wooden statue sitting on a throne, then realized that it was an old woman. The white-haired crone rose to greet them, a lifeless dream bowed over her walking stick. She crept forward on bony feet, fingering the wall as she went, her weak limbs trembling. Her voice was the creak of a rusty hinge, husky breath of death. "Long I've waited for the coming of the Maid. If you truly be she, I'll end this grievous old age, having spoken unbelieved prophecies for ten centuries. Now the god can unloose my spirit."

"What is that smell," asked Keladeine holding her nose.

"Is the priestess of the temple here?" asked Melaina, checking her own breath.

"Listen!" said the crone. "All able bodies have fled inland to escape my ill-smelling and noisome affliction. Ever I reek and rave. My life is my wound. I utter prophecies like matter from an oozing sore. Long I've been at this temple seeking Kore's mercy." The crone's eyes were like wells of deep memory.

"Who are you?" asked Melaina.

"Many the names I've had. At Thebes, I was first called Manto by my blind father. As Daphni, I delivered Delphi's oracular responses. As an unnamed poet, I invented Homer's best verses, and as Sibylla they still scroll my prophecies."

Melaina had no time to listen further. She spoke to Keladeine. "She can't possibly be Teiresias' daughter. She'd be eight hundred years old." She turned to Kallias. "I'll be safe here. Ensure Xanthippus realizes that the battle must be fought nearby. Don't let him siege the palisade, but urge him to await the Persian attack."

The old woman's scratchy voice questioned her. "You be truly the Maid, my cure? If so, you're as the rust from the sword that heals its own wounds."

Melaina and Keladeine were not listening to the old woman, but instead stepped outside to watch as the phalanx formed down the beach from the temple. Kallias mustered his regiment alongside the others. The old lady's coarse voice in the background kept up a steady stream, but Melaina ignored it. The late-summer sun cast long shadows as the hoplites rigged themselves in body armor: bronze helmets, bell corselets, greaves.

Kallias complained as he dressed, "Breastplates are always a bad fit and never distribute weight over the collarbone." He shuffled shields until, finally, he found one suitable for his arm length. "Many the time I've had a shield fly off." He searched through a pile of weapons for an iron thrusting spear, hefted one for weight and balance, and stuck a smaller blade into his belt. "When will they ever provide protection for the throat and groin?"

Melaina heard other warriors' worried grumbling of not having enough armor to go around. The men fought over breastplates and shields. Seemed no one possessed a complete panoply. One would have a new corselet but a primitive helmet, another no greaves. Even when all the hoplites were dressed for battle, no mustering order came, and the men were greatly displeased as they basked under the Aegean sun. "We'll suffocate!" they shouted, writhing inside their ventless armor.

Keladeine's Scythian took no armor. To Melaina, he looked something of a eunuch and seemed sluggish but stout, fat and hairless, with a sunburned complexion. He used bronze-tipped arrows, wore gold headgear, gold belt and girdle. Attached to his quiver, he wore three light-colored leathers, each with a large patch of hair.

Melaina had to know about the hides. "What are those?"

"Enemy skins," he said. Melaina was sorry she'd asked, but couldn't resist yet another question. "To what use?"

"Handkerchiefs."

She wondered if bring the Scythian had been all that necessary. His black dog looked fearsome enough, but Melaina didn't like him any more than she did his master.

The Scythian saw her looking at his dog. "My canine is famous as a hunter and distinguished for keen scent. No wild goat, fawn, or hare can escape him."

But Melaina thought the dog looked untrustworthy. It wouldn't meet her eye. "This dog is impure," she said.

Finally, Xanthippus raised the criers, and the call to battle went out. Auletes shrieked. She heard the whetstones screech as they grated against iron in the last-moment sharpening of swords. Men came crowding, and easily as herdsmen divide sheep mingled in pasture, so the officers formed combat companies. They advanced alongshore, making lines of hoplites ten deep, shields locked, long spears thrust forward. Then came the light-armed peltasts, javelin men, and stone throwers. Last came the defilers of the dead.

Melaina walked down from the temple and stood before Kimon's men. He was a great presence in armor, shield rattling against his spear tip. "At last! We get to bleed these Persian dogs," he shouted. "Think not of your own safety, men, but of the limbs you will sever from these pus buckets who burned your homes."

Xanthippus stood before all squadrons and shouted, "Steady your hearts! Remember, Mykale is ours! You're to but deal the death blow demanded by the gods." The general then approached Melaina and asked her to join him in reviewing the troops.

"But I don't know how. The warriors will never stand for it."

"Oh! You have no idea the violence a woman can stir in the hearts of men." He added, "Athena reviewed the soldiers with Agamemnon before Troy. Follow along with me."

"But she's a goddess," Melaina protested, following behind.

Oak-waisted and deep-chested as an ox, Xanthippus passed before his army, great strides bearing him along, and golden-haired, blue-eyed Melaina, heavy with child, kept pace, bearing the staff of the Hierophant. Immortal and august she seemed, golden tassels lofting in air. Down ranks that dazzling woman marched, stirring to the attack, and in each man she saw the heart grow stronger at her passing, war itself become fairer than return, lovelier than sailing home.

A shout rang out, and all turned toward the Palisade. Drawn up outside the timbered walls stood the Persian squadrons, flanked by officers, with the clamorous lines screaming slaughter, raging shoulder to shoulder. They wore little armor: leather corselets with bronze platelets, cloth head-coverings for sun protection, skin trousers and wicker shields.

The battle for Ionia was about to begin.

CHAPTER 37: The Battle of Mykale

Xanthippus and Kallias stood surveying the enemy host before them. "Leotychides was right," said Xanthippus. "These Persians disdain us and emerge from their stronghold thinking of us as easy pickings. By Zeus, I hope they're wrong!"

As the opposing armies advanced, silence fell.

Quite without warning, another army appeared from the right. The Greeks, realizing it wasn't the Spartans' sneak attack, thought perhaps Xerxes' forces had arrived from Sardis. The Greeks fell into disarray, some shouting, "To the ships!" others, "Hold your lines!"

Both sides halted.

The Greeks then realized these were the rebelling, liberty-infected Ionians, who then fell in behind the defilers of the dead, since they were short on weapons. Xanthippus re-assumed his position leading the phalanx, and Melaina strode back to the temple. Another shout went up, a great eagerness for battle apparent as the Persians bore down screaming. A dense dust cloud rose, and the ground rumbled and groaned. A hail of arrows descended first, sharp points pelting shields like a mighty hailstorm. Voices carrying the paean broke out.

The phalanx charged, fifes splitting the air, front crashing against front, shield clanging against shield. Bucklers ground together, a toiling clamor. It was as if Terror, Rout, and Hate, Ares insatiable sisters-in-arms, walked the earth sowing ferocity, redoubling groans and cries of agony. Dust clouds soared heavenward. Throngs of Persians and Greeks lay strewn beside each other, and the earth streamed with mighty crimson torrents.

Keladeine and the Scythian stood their ground, protecting Melaina before the temple: Keladeine as tall as an Amazon, beautiful as queen Penthesilea who'd also roamed these shores and, as told of old, was killed in battle by Achilles. As the Persians grew ever closer, Keladeine and the Scythian stepped forward and turned loose the dogs. Lykos was a rage of howls and growls, ripping the face from one warrior, disemboweling another. Warriors fled before him without bothering to hurl a spear. The black Scythian canine worked along side Lycos, the two ferocious as lions.

Kallias' company was particularly hard put to it, shoved back against the very doorstep of Demeter's sanctuary. Kallias himself was disarmed, his shield shattered. He snatched a glittering buckler from a dead man and clashed amidst the assembled host, dealing death and courting it, all the time shouting, "Smite! Slay Persia's sons!" A thunder of war cries rang, roared. Men dropped, battered amid murderous streams of gore. Kimon gripped a fearful mace, swung it around like a sickle, lopping necks and heads, helmets clanging.

So the battle raged before Melaina, great numbers falling in both armies, neither winning an advantage, when, with a great crash, enemy forces closest the temple broke through Kallias' regiment, threatening the sanctuary. Melaina faltered, cold fear flooding through her, dissolving all her courage. She stood her ground although she knew not how, as before the gate, a Persian warrior stepped to the front, standing head and shoulders above the rest. He was the ugliest man she had ever seen.

"Tigranes!" she heard a Greek scream. As the shout went up, all Greeks before the great warrior gave way, no one willing to engage him.

"Melaina!" she heard Keladeine call, "back into the temple! Save yourself!"

Tigranes issued a great laugh and leapt into the fray where Keladeine and the Scythian loosed their arrows. He let the darting shafts thump on his shield, then scattered the Greek warriors. Melaina lost sight of Keladeine as the lot of them were consumed in a flood of Persians. She herself started to run into the fray but remembered the child inside her, then again heard Tigranes shout nearby.

"Women! The Hellenes have brought their women to fight their battles. Hellene men are little more than children."

No sooner had Tigranes spoken the insult than Kallias accosted him, relying on the very skill he'd demonstrated in winning the Olympic pankratium.

"No! Kallias. No!" shouted Melaina. Surely he was no match for this giant.

But Kallias baffled the rush of his foe, noting the play of sword to judge strength and weakness, and exchanged brutal blow for brutal blow. As shipwrights smite timbers, thuds resounding, so helmets crashed, teeth clattered. Kallias and Tigranes stood apart, labored and gasped, then rushed together as bulls furious over a grazing heifer. Melaina watched the two battle and judged it not awkward but ordered, fierce Ares' blameless dance. But Tigranes quickly overcame Kallias, felled him with a stunning blow, then stood over him to wield death.

Melaina stopped herself from rushing to her dear Kallias. She had a better thought. "Here! Here!" she shouted. "Death beckons. Hear me!"

Tigranes, startled at hearing a woman's voice amid the battle cries, stepped over his fallen pray in favor of the sweet morsel before him. Tall and threatening this dark lord stood, a great shadow of despair falling over Melaina, his sword raised in eagerness.

Melaina stood her ground though by pale dread possessed. She'd have fled except for a curious thought: this man had killed her father at Marathon. A false wizardry worked her mind surely, but one she would not dismiss. A vision flashed of the severed limb, and she remembered Orestes wrath in avenging his own father's murder. Her heart flamed. Woman of Eleusis, courageous Kynegeiros' daughter, though swelled with child, she'd not cower before the might of Persia. Golden locks lofting about her shoulders, chiton wafting, she raised her grandfather's staff to ward off the blow and slumped to one knee to steady herself.

A cry of utter hatred split the air, a shriek of murder and madness, as down came Tigranes' grim blade. Her staff rang as if made of some sacred metal, notched but held even as her arms gave way. The sharp bronze ripped her garment, split her shoulder flesh and toppled her backwards into the dirt.

The fell lord bellowed, believing his blow had been fatal, hideous laugh ringing. But Melaina rose from her own wreckage, blood-stained, wounded, she stood again. The great shoulders gathered a second time to send her to the world of shades as she faced her enemy, on both feet this time, even more determined, and directed her own blow with the staff, a quick crack between dark eyes.

She knew not whether the snap was the staff's stiff wood finally giving way or if it was a skull splitting, but the man's eyes crossed, he stumbled, then toppled from his feet. As his dark shape crumbled to the earth, Melaina saw Keladeine looming over the fallen warrior and realized that she'd crushed the cranium from behind as had Melaina from the front. But Keladeine was swept up in the flow of battle, and the two were again separated.

Kallias then rose to his feet, blinking and bewildered. He looked around realizing that the two women had done his work for him. But he immediately responded to a call for help from Kimon.

Melaina swiftly stepped forward, grief over Keladeine's uncertain fate racking her insides, and seized the Persian sword. Anger over her father's severed limb grew inside, and she hewed the dark head of Tigranes from its shoulders. She lifted the heavy container-of-wits by the hair, shoved it down on the Hierophant's staff, and then resumed her position at the gate of Demeter's temple. She stood tall, blond hair shimmering, staff in one hand, sword in the other, blood trailing from shoulder to glowing skirt hem. Brains bled down the Hierophant's ancient scepter, a deadly admonition to all Persia. No one would pass Demeter's gate.

Leotychides' Spartans finally emerged from the forest and came screaming into battle. All Greeks found their courage as the flower of Persia broke for the palisade in terror. The troops of Leotychides and Xanthippus converged and pursued the barbarians into the moat surrounding the rampart, so close on Persian heels as to enter with them, leaving no chance for the barbarians to swing closed the gate and throw home the locking bolts. A great river of Greeks flooded over and through.

Since the battle no longer raged before her, Melaina searched for Keladeine among the nearby bodies to no avail. She reentered the temple. The old woman's voice had fallen silent. Melaina found her collapsed in a corner, just a heap of dust and bones, suffering an arrow through the chest although no blood flowed. Melaina thought the crone dead, but heard a faint squeak, mouse words.

"Burn not my body," she said. "Apollo's swift arrow has loosed me from interminable life and this oracular madness. Let me lie shamefully unburied. My black blood will seep through the earth and feed the green grass for herds of grazing beasts. It will infiltrate livers to foster prophets' foresight. Birds rending my flesh in ribbons shall gorge and prophesy mankind's woes." Her dull eyes raked across Melaina. "Daughter of Darkness, come for me at last." Then life left her, not as warmth ebbing, but as a cold puff of dust.

Melaina scooped the thin frame into her arms. It hardly felt the weight of a child, as she carried the body behind the temple and into the nearby woods. She heard wolves howling, yet laid it on the ground among the leaves of myrtle trees and hurried back to the temple.

She dismantled the head of Tigranes from her grandfather's staff, reuniting it with its shoulders. Anguish wrung her heart as she discarded the sword. She followed after the storm of murder, stepped through the carnage. The groans of the wounded matched her own throbbing shoulder, and she wished for the comfort of Kallias' arms. But she realized the truth about him.

Ever more was her grief. Melaina worried the spindle of shame over what she had done: helped Kallias and Keladeine kill a man, shouldered the wicked task of defiling the body. She heard the cries of the dying, the maimed, and remembered Sophocles' lament. He'd said it was because he'd slaughtered on the isle of Psyttaleia during the battle of Salamis. "Yea, I now know your burden," she said.

Searching for Keladeine, she followed after the warriors into the trench and up the other side through the stockade wall made of stones and tree trunks and crowned with spikes. Melaina stood inside peering down upon a city of beached ships, a great mustering of wood fishes: beaked bows with wide painted eyes gasping for breath, masts like gigantic fins, slack sails flapping, useless oars laying in sand.

As Zeus' great eagle had accosted Prometheus, so the Greeks swooped down upon the Persians, air ringing with screams as the warriors fed on gore. Melaina clutched tight Palaemon's golden broach. The stockade enclosed a thousand shapes of death. Greeks ever delivered to the helpless wounds, gashes, lacerations. Tears wet Melaina's cheeks as she thought what a dreary lot had seized her. "I've led them all to this," she said aloud. "Daughter of Darkness indeed, I've become the dreaded Daughter of Death." Melaina felt as though on this journey that started at Eleusis, she'd been on one long descent into the Underworld and had finally become dread Persephone herself, Mistress of the Dead.

Off in a corner of the palisade, the surviving Persians had locked themselves away in the only building, planning to await Xerxes' glorious entry. Xanthippus, however, set his own mind to fire. As a beekeeper smokes a droning swarm from its hive, so Xanthippus set fire to the timbers. The Persians remained steadfast until fear of becoming roast meat caused them to erupt from their prison. They scattered among the ships, this way and that, emitting wails and shrieks as they realized all was lost. Xerxes was not coming.

Word circulated that two Persian divisions, those under the fleet commanders, had escaped into the deep forest. Greek warriors gave chase, but as dusk drew on, pursuit over the hills and gullies slackened. The warriors returned after hearing a lion roar and sighting a bear. Leotychides called off the hunt.

Melaina walked about in a daze, then ran onto the Scythian. Hope at last! "Keladeine," she shouted, "where is Keladeine?"

The Scythian said they'd been separated during the fighting, that he knew nothing of her fate. Melaina watched him hold a dying Persian's head in his lap and thought it touching, until the Scythian quickly slit around the neck, waited until the man bled to death, then slit around the ears. He skillfully slipped the skin and hair off the skull. She remembered his handkerchiefs.

Melaina was a blinking owl in failing light, wreck and disaster all around. She remembered her grandfather and knew he must still be alive. She turned bodies, questioned Ionians concerning an old sacred official of the Mysteries, a Hierophant.

She found Lykos whining over the body of the Scythian's black dog, who'd been hacked to pieces. Lykos took up with Melaina, walking at her side, as she sunk into deeper depression over Keladeine's fate.

Then Melaina saw a familiar face: a tall, broad-shouldered man, gentlemanly, yet grave. He was administering to the injured and dying. Alongside him, a young woman dressed wounds. They were the physician, Podaleirius, and Hygieiadora, his assistant, who'd examined Melaina at Eleusis. He'd taken possession of a portion of cleared ground. Also his serpent-entwined staff stood nearby staked into the soft sand. Hygieiadora recognized Melaina, nodding to her as she closed a patient's arm wound.

"Have you seen my grandfather," Melaina asked, "the Hierophant?"

The physician said, "Your grandfather was just here but is gone now."

Hygieiadora finished with the man and fell to cleaning and dressing Melaina's shoulder wound, applying a healing salve and wrapped her shoulder in fine white linen. She said, "Your grandfather was taken prisoner at Eleusis and kept alive although he was thoroughly disagreeable to his captors. Just moments ago, he was taken by force from the palisade when the two fleet commanders escaped."

Melaina talked to those who now returned from chasing the escaping Persians into the forest, but they knew nothing of the Hierophant. She realized that her grandfather's freedom would have to be won another day. "He's beyond liberation," she said, resignation filling her. "So be it." She took a deep breath. "Zeus has need of him in Persia."

Melaina watched as the Greek fleet beached at the palisade, and a great joy seizing her as she recognized Keladeine standing beachside. The young priestess of Artemis screamed when she saw Lykos, and ran to the canine, ignoring Melaina as though she weren't even there. Keladeine warbled over the animal until Melaina wondered if her friend cared about her at all. She shouted to Keladeine, but a great weariness had overtaken her. She sat on a stone beside the physician and Hygieiadora. "I've been very wretched," said Melaina, "not knowing if I'd see you alive again, Keladeine."

"So was I over you," Keladeine said. "And now I find you injured, blood drenched. You should have stayed in the temple as I told you."

Hygieiadora turned her attention to Melaina's pregnancy. "You've taken great risk with the child," she said. "From the seventh month forward, you should have given up violent movements and concentrated on perfecting the embryo. By breaking the chorion and losing the birthing fluids, you've ensured a dry delivery and endangered yourself and the fetus. Besides, of what use is a woman in battle?"

Melaina heard a scream from behind, then heard her name called. She turned to see a tall girl standing beside a sour-faced woman. Stately Anaktoria it was, Melaina's girlfriend from Eleusis, and her mother. Though captured, they'd both survived, along with a small group of women from all over Attica. They stood amongst the carnage, blinking and confused at having been liberated.

As the women raved at each others' remarkable survival, the warriors removed Persian treasure from the beached ships: golden bowls, goblets, silks, jewels, money chests. On the beach, they set up a great pile of common-stock plunder. From the dead they stripped anklets, chains and gold-hilt scimitars, embroidered apparel. All this fell activity shrouded by encroaching darkness. Warriors heaped the dead upon the beached ships, and Leotychides set afire the palisade. Melaina recognized the sharp aroma of Syrian cedar. The conflagration played along the wooden wall, blaze upon blaze leapt, flashing into the heavens. A great lion roared, silencing all but the raging funeral pyre. Warriors, oarsmen, and the two priestesses remained on the beach feasting throughout the night and tending hurts of the wounded. All the while, Deiphonus sacrificed to the immortals.

When the sun rose over dewy hills, waking roosters and shepherds, the fleet loaded the spoils onboard, loosed hawsers, and set sail back to Samos.

CHAPTER 38: A Final Word to the Generals

Melaina couldn't stop the flurry of activity surrounding her. She'd already given voice to pains that had begun before leaving Mykale, so the women of Samos would allow her no peace. Chera swept her up at the first mention of discomfort, took her to the birthing chamber beside the temple, and sent for the midwife. Now women surrounded her, those from all over Samos as well as the few Athenian women saved from the Persians.

Melaina knew the child wasn't coming, yet the chamber reeked of pennyroyal, apples, and quinces to bring her back to her senses should the pain overcome her. Nearby, a fire-driven cauldron belched steam. Stacked about were wool cloths, linens, pillows, sea sponges, bandages for swaddling the newborn. The interrogating midwife was forever anointing her own hands with warm olive oil and probed Melaina's privates while frowning at the undilated uterus.

Melaina kept Anaktoria close, holding her hand and hugging her, unable to get enough of this human treasure retrieved from the Persians. Anaktoria cried frequently, lapsed into silent dejection and wouldn't talk. Her mother mourned the death of her child of less than a year while in enemy hands. Melaina worried about her grandfather. She'd sent Keladeine to snoop on the generals who'd been in council since their return to Samos. She'd heard Leotychides had already declared Ionia indefensible against Xerxes in the long term.

Melaina felt uncomfortable on Samos and desperately needed her mother. This troublesome pregnancy now caused her to feel as if she were again a child. She had faced the might of Persia, but cowered before birthing pains.

Keladeine returned, saying that the Spartans were dead set on relocating all Ionia to Attica, which greatly offended Ionians and Athenians alike. Melaina realized her labor was not progressing, so she sent for Kallias. The women scurried out except for Anaktoria, whom Melaina wouldn't let leave. Melaina stood to greet her husband, knees shaking.

"I must speak to the generals," she said, "a last word, Lord Kallias, to fulfill my commitments to the fleet and the gods. I realize the trouble I cause, but I must return to Eleusis. My mother should know that her father lives, and these other women from Attica should return to their families. A single boat, please."

Kallias said nothing but assisted her to the generals' council. It was a much smaller affair than those of the past: Leotychides and Xanthippus, the generals of Corinth, Sikyon, and Troezen, plus the three Samians who'd been at Delos. A handful set hard to the task of determining the future of Ionia. Kimon stood in a corner with Keladeine alongside.

They all fell silent and rose as she entered.

"I realize that for me to voice an opinion concerning the future of Ionia is against custom, but both Athena and Artemis, daughters of Olympian Zeus, came to me, concerned over your wavering. It would be a grievous insult not to tell you their will. This is what they've ordained. If you should give up Ionia and relocate its citizens, realize you forfeit Rhodes, Athena's birthplace; Ephesus, Artemis' greatest temple; and Samos, Hera's birthplace. Also, Manto, Teiresias' daughter, at the direction of Delphi, founded Colophon. The rocky island of Chios was home to Homer, favorite of the Muses. Several centuries ago, Immortal Zeus command all these places settled." Melaina stared at Leotychides until he dropped his eyes. "To even discuss abandoning them to Persia is blasphemy."

Her audience sat silent in the aftermath of her history lesson. Melaina felt tired and disillusioned, believing her words meant nothing to them. They'll find the path to greatest conflict and follow it, she thought. She turned to Kallias. "Please, I must go home."

Kallias said a few words supporting Melaina's position, then took his leave. "I'm escorting the women and injured back to the mainland," he said.

Melaina and Kallias left the council amid the rumbling of voices and sharp shouts from Xanthippus directed at Leotychides. "You'll turn all Olympus against Hellas with your isolationist attitude," he said.

At midnight, Kallias, Melaina and the other women boarded The Tragodia. Melaina balked when she saw the name, a tight grip of fear seizing her, but she gave herself and her child up to fate and stepped aboard. The physician and Hygieiadora accompanied them. Kimon also boarded and sought out Keladeine. The ship's lanterns created an eerie mix of shadow and golden light as Melaina said goodbye to Deiphonus, who stood on the dock looking up at her at the ship's rail, his face aglow with success.

"From now on, you can divine without worry. You have a reputation."

"Still, I could be found out."

Melaina smiled, thinking that this man's self-image was irreparable. "You're not a fraud. Study the craft, kind Deiphonus, and remember that each seer's art is unique."

"All my life I've wanted to be a diviner."

"Ancient Teiresias didn't think it a boon, and considered anyone who foretold the future a fool disdained by those who seek him. Even Agamemnon hated Kalchas for his divining."

"Everyone seems to appreciate your gift."

Kallias gave the order to disembark, and Melaina turned to her husband. "First travel along the coast of Asia to Ephesus, Lord Kallias. Apollo has ordered Keladeine there, and we can but deliver her."

Kallias spoke not a word of protest but motioned the helmsman north instead of west, the breeze billowing the white-linen sails. The oarsmen let the sleek pine rest in the tholepins, and the wind did the work for them.

Melaina looked at Keladeine, who was talking to Kimon. He was subdued, his voice reduced to gentle tones. He'd assumed a noble bearing, a tender look. Could it be that love inspired him? Melaina thought he was well worth the gaze of those initiated into Aphrodite's mysteries.

Not far up the coast, the trireme entered a quiet bay, light from the oil lamps of Ephesus aglow in the distance. Soon the ship entered the slip before a brilliantly lit temple, the most beautiful Melaina had ever seen, and so large that it dwarfed the Telesterion at Eleusis.

"You'll be in good hands," she told Keladeine. "I've simply been an instrument to get you here. What a magnificent temple! You'll have a life filled with purpose."

"I'll always feel empty without you beside me."

"Artemis will fill the void," Melaina said. "Mortals can't imagine the miracles worked by the divine."

"Come with me! Artemis could use you more than me."

"Insatiable necessity compels me forward, however bitter it is to leave you." Melaina then bent to pat the wolf. "Care well for your mistress, Lykos. She is truly one of the world's marvels."

Keladeine had a final word. "The great trireme will bear you home, lady, to the ashen ruins of Eleusis. Follow the ever-circling stars, and perhaps someday the gods' decrees will blow you my way again."

At the last moment, Kimon also stepped off, walking behind Keladeine and Lykos, Aphrodite in firm control of his heart and ever tempting the young priestess.

The warship finally set sail, following the stars' path west. Melaina and the rest of the women spent the remaining darkness below deck slumbering. With the sun, Melaina could no longer stay below. She left Anaktoria and went topside to care for the wounded. The slack sail billowed as though she'd brought along a bag of winds. One badly wounded warrior she held in her lap and eased him into his death. All day and night, the fresh wind bore the ship on, sleek trireme slicing silent through purple water.

CHAPTER 39: The Newborn

Back in the ruins of Eleusis and within the Gates of Hades, Myrrhine relit the family hearth fire and set up residence. Palaemon tried convincing her to take a chamber in his home, but Myrrhine refused, preferring the Dark Lord's sacred grotto, where she sat awaiting her daughter's return from the far side of the Aegean.

Two days earlier, she'd watched the Greek forces rout the Persians at Plataea. She'd tended the injured, then returned to Eleusis with Aeschylus and Sophocles. The ruins of the Telesterion had become a great center for war casualties. Families and friends from both Attica and the Peloponnese congregated at Eleusis' crossroads to eye those returning from the north, question them about a husband, a son, a neighbor. By the wagonload came the injured and dying to be sheltered and nursed among the ruins. Gone was the glory of victory, left, only the unmerciful mutilations, the naked ghastliness of death.

When Myrrhine first returned from Plataea, she'd found Kallias' mother waiting for her. Hipparete had come to salvage what she could of Kallias' home in Eleusis. She told Myrrhine that Melaina and Kallias had gone with the fleet to Delos. With the annihilation of the Persian army at Plataea, Myrrhine hadn't been worried that Delos might be attacked, and knew Melaina would be safe to return a few days later. But Myrrhine couldn't understand why Kallias had taken Melaina with him to Delos at all. Hipparete, after much coercing, admitted that Melaina had had a vision, a prophecy of an Aegean battle.

"I know the truth then," said Myrrhine. "My daughter has had another seizure." Lady Hipparete nodded. She held Myrrhine's hands as they both cried. Myrrhine realized that her daughter's epilepsy hadn't been cured at Epidaurus after all.

At night, Myrrhine had been sheltering in the ashes under the overhang of the ancient grotto, and during the day, she stayed atop the hill overlooking the bay. Always she awaited the return of the warships.

While ascending the hill this day, she heard horse hooves along the road from Athens, then shouting in the ruins of the Telesterion. Young Sophocles, she thought, and called to him. He walked up as she started down to meet him.

Sophocles looked tired and worn, his tunic grimy. His eyes had lost their sparkle. Myrrhine realized that he didn't bring good news, and fear gripped the pit of her stomach.

"She's okay," Sophocles said, "but Melaina will not return soon. She's gone with the fleet to liberate Ionia."

"No! Sophocles, not to Asia!"

"Several days ago. This morning a ship returned from Delos with the news. A priest of Apollo mentioned her."

Although she questioned him unrelentingly, he knew little beyond those few words. Those who'd returned had given no reason for Melaina having followed the fleet. Sophocles had no word of Melaina's condition. Finally, he did remember that the priest had also mentioned that Melaina met another girl at Delos, a friend and a priestess of Artemis. She'd left with Melaina for Asia. A girl from the Isthmus.

Myrrhine thought a moment. "Keladeine," she said. "Melaina met her after the battle of Salamis. At least she'll not be among all those warriors without female companionship."

Two days later, Myrrhine sat on the Mirthless Rock before the entrance to the Gates of Hades, where divine Demeter had also sat awaiting the return of Kore. Myrrhine heard singing at the entrance to the sacred quarter and watched as choruses danced around the Kallichoron Well. These celebratory sounds mingled with the wails and moans of the injured still camped there. Myrrhine realized that this was the day of the Mysteries ceremony, and that people had come even though initiation was no longer possible.

Myrrhine climbed the hill's stone steps and stood at Melaina's favorite spot above the bay searching for ships that might signify Melaina's homecoming. The morning chill was deeper than usual. All day, Myrrhine remained on the hilltop, and as afternoon dragged, she noticed people streaming in from Athens along the Sacred Way. She thought she recognized the Iakchos song. The ruins of the Telesterion filled with people, both able-bodied and injured along with the dying and the dead.

Just before sundown, Myrrhine saw three sleek triremes slicing through the bay toward Eleusis. When they drew closer she could no longer contain herself and ran downhill, through the gate, and out onto the dock. Wind gusts created choppy waves as thunder rumbled in the distance. Others came running to join her at dockside.

Myrrhine stood at the gangway of the first ship but could see neither Melaina nor Kallias. The men who caught the hawsers and tied them over the landing lugs shouted back and forth at the men onboard. A great roar went up, so she could no longer hear.

"What's happened?" she asked a man struggling with the huge papyrus rope.

"Leotychides defeated the Persians at Mykale!" he shouted, but singing drowned the rest of his words. Another man spoke, "These ships bring the wounded and some of the dead." She saw the walking-injured struggle to the gangway. The bow officer was the first to step down.

"Have you seen a girl, a priestess from Eleusis," Myrrhine shouted to him over the din.

"Kallias' mistress? No one will ever forget her," he shouted back.

"She's dead then?"

"Next ship." He pointed at a trireme docking further down.

It was a featureless ghostlike ship in the gloom of twilight. As its gangway lowered, she saw Kallias carrying a bundle in his arms and rushed to him.

"Oh Zeus! How to interpret this? Is it a body?" she wondered aloud. "Kallias carrying a lump of humanity, bloodied, bandaged. Oh, if only I could see the face in this failing light. Is she Melaina? No! But who else could it be? Yes, it's my dearest Melaina, poor child. Am I dreaming?"

Kallias said something to the girl in his arms.

"Melaina!"

Lady Hipparete appeared from behind Myrrhine. She screamed, "Kallias, my son, you're alive! Ah, the worry is over!"

A flash of lightening lit the dock and another rumble rocked them. Myrrhine recognized the physician followed by more women from Eleusis, then Anaktoria and her mother, Myrrhine's own cousin. "Oh! Great Zeus in heaven," she said, "have they all returned alive?"

Melaina's face filled with pain. "Oh, mother! Your voice is the dearest music!" Tears came. "The wound is but a superficial nothing. I've been in labor off and on two days since the ship past Delos. I can't stand much more."

Myrrhine felt delirious upon hearing her daughter's sweet words, even if pain-filled. What exquisite complaint, she thought, running alongside Kallias as he carried Melaina through the stone gate, up the hill, and down the other side to the sacred quarter. Myrrhine took her daughter's hand, released it, took it again.

Myrrhine halted the small group and spoke quickly to Anaktoria's mother, hugged her and sent her and Anaktoria to find their burned-out homes. Then she turned back to her own daughter. "Through here," she said, directing Kallias to an opening in the hillside. "How could you do it? Lead her into such great danger."

"Me?" Kallias scoffed. "She dragged the entire fleet to Asia."

"You let them hurt her." She recognized one of her slaves hanging back and called him forward. "Off to Salamis with you," she said. "Bring Kleito. It's your life if she doesn't get here in time."

Kallias defended himself. "Zeus knows, it was not her life in danger. I'd not myself live today but for her."

Darkness came swiftly. They stepped out of the short tunnel and into the open space before Hades' cave, seemingly emerging from the Underworld itself. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, announcing their arrival to those camped in the courtyard. A cry of wonder rose up from the field of wounded and dying who now spread before them as a gigantic plain of misery.

Aeschylus it was who came among them carrying a torch, grumpy Philokleia at his side, Palaemon limping behind. Aeschylus said, "The daemons Might and Force have announced your arrival to this primordial landscape. Bleak as Scythia this grotto seems among the ruins. I see you bring the injured daughter of my own brother. Is her life in danger?"

"Only from the child wishing to be delivered," said Myrrhine.

As Kallias placed Melaina upon a pallet within the grotto, Aeschylus questioned him. "How goes the defense of the Aegean?"

"Won!" said Kallias. "Ionia has been liberated along with the islands. What news of Plataea? Your presence here is surprising."

"We routed Mardonius four days ago. Pausanias lays siege to Thebes as we speak."

"Victory four days gone? Can it be, truly? Under that same day's sun we destroyed Xerxes' forces at Mykale and burned his fleet of ships."

"That very morning?"

"Afternoon and evening."

"We'd finished business and prepared a meal before you started."

"Ah, so it's true. Melaina had a vision. The troops believed her, took great heart in it. But the generals deemed it impossible that she'd know."

"Out with you, Kallias," said Lady Hipparete. "All you men, find another shelter from the storm." She shooed with her hands. "Women bring the newborn into the world. Off!"

"The staff!" said Melaina "Before you go, Lord Kallias. The Hierophant's staff."

"The women have laid it on the ground beside you."

Myrrhine wondered at her daughter's words. How could the Hierophant's staff have fallen into her hands? "It burned with the Telesterion," she told Melaina.

"Not so, mother. I found it on Mykale's desolate shore. Grandfather is alive!"

"Mercy of the gods, what news! You saw him?"

"No. Although Anaktoria and her mother did. The physician also."

"Such relief! Where is he? Was he not aboard the trireme?"

"Our worries for him are not over. Persia still holds him captive."

"I'll worry him later. It's enough to know he's alive. But why did you make such a journey across the Aegean?"

"Please let me pass over that, not bring all the dangers to life again in the telling." She grabbed her abdomen, "Oh! It comes on again."

"The siege of birth pains?"

"Yes! This cursed plague. It burns me!"

"I'll get warm fomentations to ease the pain. Light a fire, Hipparete. Set a cauldron to boil."

Great thunderheads formed above, as night grew deadly dark inside the cave. Bitter wind swirled about them, kicking up ashes among the towering ruins. Yet nothing could dampen Myrrhine's spirits. Her mind whirred. Melaina returned safe, my father back from the dead, the Persians routed both on land and sea, Ionia liberated. Is it possible to retrieve so much happiness in all these ashes?

The slave reappeared with Kleito, little Euripides at her side. "Found her at the dock," said the slave, "her mind already bent on serving you."

"Oh Kleito! Good news comes so quickly, I can hardly catch my breath. Lady Hipparete is here to help, but has no herbs for birthing afflictions."

"Lost during the evacuation," confirmed Hipparete.

"I never travel light. Always have remedies at the ready." Kleito hefted a leather satchel. "These all be herbs for delivering as well as healing. Who'll do the midwifery?" Kleito looked ethereal, dressed in a silvery robe, golden belt around her waist, her face veiled. Myrrhine thought her friend resembled a sorceress. Kleito pulled the veil forward over her brow.

Myrrhine waited before answering, knowing she'd have to admit her barrenness. "I will. My womb is empty even at this early age. Artemis wishes it so. She gave me one child to gain experience. You and Hipparete can assist."

"Hurry, Kleito!" cried Melaina. "The fiend attacks again. Oh agony!"

"Steady," said Myrrhine, then turned to Kleito. "Give her something for pain and check her shoulder. She's been injured. Heat the olive oil, Hipparete, while I soothe her with warm hands. Soak some rags."

"Her shoulder is fine. Some professional has already treated her," said Kleito.

Agido rushed into the grotto, screamed, and fell upon Melaina.

"What a joy to see you, little friend," Melaina said, "but the pain! Mother, help!"

Myrrhine kept an eye on Kleito as she retrieved a small pouch from the satchel. "What's that?" Myrrhine asked. "Tell the heritage of each medicine before administering."

"Don't trust me after the hellebore?"

"I asked you here, didn't I?"

"Dittany, peculiar to Crete." She spread flakes over the surface of a cup of steaming cauldron water. "Relieves pain during difficult labor, and resembles pennyroyal in looks and taste. Goats go crazy over it, graze it to nothing. It's scarce. If you prefer I not...."

Myrrhine hesitated. "Smells of lemon."

Melaina said, "Yes! Kleito, yes! Give it to me." She held Agido's hand so tightly that it looked as though blood might drip from the fingertips.

Kleito faltered, as if she'd withhold the medication, given the questioning. Melaina grabbed the cup from her.

"The epilepsy," said Myrrhine to her daughter, "are you in danger of a seizure?"

Melaina sipped. "No, Mother. No symptoms."

Still Myrrhine worried. "Kleito, do you have anything to forestall seizures?"

Kleito said nothing but dipped another cup of hot water from the cauldron, sprinkled a bit of dried leaf upon its simmering surface.

"Mmmm," said Melaina putting aside one steaming cup for the other. "Thyme."

"From the slopes of Hymettos not far from our home in Phlya. It's usually given to revive from a seizure."

"If I could rest, a little sleep. I'm so tired."

As the women chattered, the blazing fire cast dark shadows onto the grotto walls, shapes shifting about like Underworld creatures. The chorus, who'd been dancing around the Kallichoron Well, came to the sacred grotto in a long train, followed by a chorus of warriors who had finally made it back from the battle at Plataea. With them, came the children of the silver mines at Laurium, the worms so dear to Melaina. The children scampered, sang, and scurried about the temple ruins like crazed Korybantes. The chorus formed about the birthing scene, drowning Melaina's cries with wild shouts and the lusty beating of swords against battle shields.

Through all the din, Myrrhine went about her business laying hot cloths across Melaina's swollen abdomen, then inserted her finger into Melaina's privates.

Melaina jumped, trembled. "Where are you touching me? You'll kill me! It leaps again! The evil pain rouses up!"

Myrrhine shook her head. "You've already lost your water. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It happened at Delos," Melaina confessed, "ten days ago."

"A dry birth? No wonder the problems. Your isthmus is still closed after two days labor." She filled a goat's bladder with olive oil, shoved the small end inside her daughter and squirted till it ran out.

Again Myrrhine inserted her finger, lubricated the orifice, and pulled slightly to dilate it.

Melaina groaned. "Get your hand out!"

"It's open barely enough to admit two fingers, but getting larger. Feel it?"

"Yes! It has hold of me!" said Melaina raising from bed. "The burning flames again! What have you done?"

Myrrhine ignored her daughter's agony to observe Kleito retrieving a terracotta jar of gray balls from her satchel. "This good charm is cyclamen," Kleito said. "It produces rapid delivery. I harvest the root, burn it, and steep the ashes in wine to form balls." She looked at Myrrhine directly, her eyes cold, hard.

"What else is it good for?" asked Myrrhine.

"Pessary."

"It prevents conception? Okay, that makes sense. Give it."

Melaina said, "Ah! No need. It's gone now. Just please be quiet. Don't wake the slumbering malady."

"The pain will grow," said Myrrhine.

"Chew," Kleito said, giving Melaina one of the balls. After Melaina had chomped, Kleito gave her a small cup of wine. "Sip."

"Oh, Kleito! It leaps up again. So soon, the evil pain blazes forth."

Myrrhine stooped again to check the dilation. "Time for the midwife's stool. Oops! We have none. It burned in the fire!"

"Kleito," said Hipparete, "you're robust. We'll use your lap."

"Euripides," Kleito said to her son, "stand back against the stone wall, out of the way. You touch that fire, I'll have you by the ear." Then quickly she loosened her golden belt, stepped out of her silvery robe. She slipped on an apron, gathering it midway to her thighs, then sat upon the slaughter stone. Myrrhine helped her groaning daughter onto Kleito's thighs, placed her daughter's thighs outside Kleito's. "Melaina is so light in the hips," said Kleito, "no wonder she's having trouble."

Myrrhine sat before Melaina, anointed her left hand with olive oil and turned to Hipparete. "Has this oil been used for cooking?"

"No," said Hipparete, "it came from underground storage and hasn't been touched by the kitchen."

Another quick check revealed that Melaina was now dilating rapidly.

"Eyie!" screamed Melaina. "The vile pain has me in its clutches. Pray for me, Mother. Call forth Eileithyia."

"Can you hold her, Kleito?" asked Myrrhine.

"She's feather light but writhes like an eel."

Myrrhine wondered how she could have forgotten the birthing prayers. She rose to her feet, raised her palms to Heaven. "Venerable goddess of swift birth, Eileithyia, hear my prayer. No one sees bright day without your aid. Sweet sight are you to those in travail, laboring women. Years ago when I gave birth to Melaina, I called you. Then, you came and saved us both. Now again, I call you to us. Speed this delivery. Share Melaina's pain, freeing her from terrible distress, and I promise a great golden-threaded necklace in return. Come to Melaina's aid, rescue her child. It's your nature to be savior of all."

Myrrhine then prayed to Hera, that she not restrain Eileithyia, divine midwife, so Melaina would deliver quickly. She also prayed for Artemis to assist, for she had helped her own mother, Leto, during Apollo's birth.

Though the chorus ranted continuously, the heavens had remained quiet but now broke loose during the prayers. No lightning stuck the ground, but licking tongues of fire danced along the clouds. Thunder rumbled and echoed.

Myrrhine placed a blanket on the cold stone before Melaina and sat on it, looking up into her daughter's pallid eyes. "Expel the baby, dear. The pain is nothing to fear."

Melaina took a deep breath, strained till the blood veins popped out on her forehead, then sent forth a scream.

"Keep the breath above, child. Groan, don't scream. Let the groan drive breath downward into your flanks. Let down her hair, Kleito, loosen her wraps."

Myrrhine again placed her left hand over her daughter's womb, inserted her oiled finger, and, with a circular movement, dilated the orifice. "Ah," she said. "The chorion has ruptured. Won't be long now. I feel baby hair!"

Though Melaina grunted and strained, strained and grunted, the baby wasn't coming. Myrrhine read exhaustion on her daughter's face. Her own mother had died giving birth. She couldn't bear thinking of Melaina suffering the same fate. She felt inside Melaina again. "The orifice is large enough, but the head is wrong. Maybe something beside it. Move her around, Kleito. Shift her."

"Perhaps she conceived a monster," said Philokleia, who'd kept silently back until the first hint of disaster. "That's known to cause difficult childbirth."

Myrrhine fixed her with a stern look. "We'll have none of that."

"Is something wrong with the baby, Mother?" asked Melaina.

"No, child. The baby is fine. It may be turned the wrong way."

Kleito put Melaina on the pallet, raised her feet, and shuffled her body about, then resumed her seat on the slaughter stone, Melaina astride her thighs.

"The orifice breathes also," Myrrhine said to her daughter. "First it opens, then contracts. Wait for my word to push.... Now!"

"Perhaps it's stillborn," said Philokleia. "That also causes trouble."

"Shut up!" said Kleito, with uncharacteristic venom. "Don't jinx the birth. Make yourself useful, Philokleia. Watch little Euripides so he doesn't toast his fingers in the fire."

Myrrhine ignored them. "Now, Melaina, push!" and a few seconds later, "Again! Deep breath, push it into the loins."

Agido wiped sweat from Melaina's brow.

Melaina sucked air, groaned, strained. She repeated again and again at Myrrhine's bidding. Just as Myrrhine thought that her daughter had passed into unconsciousness, given up, Melaina raised slightly, opened her eyes with new resolve.

"I'll not have my child stillborn," Melaina said, growling under her breath, hot anger flushing her face.

Myrrhine sensed Melaina put great pressure into her body, felt the child's head slip. "Yes!" she cried. "The baby comes! More, Melaina, more!"

Another loud groan.

"The head is through!" Myrrhine slipped her fingers around the child's chin, pulled the head forward. "Quickly now, before the orifice closes about the neck. Yes! The shoulders are free!" Slowly she pulled out the child, umbilical cord trailing. Myrrhine looked up into Melaina's astonished eyes.

"My baby! I have a child!" cried Melaina, then fell back into Kleito.

The chorus that had kept up a steady vocal stopped. The silence in the sacred grotto was broken only by the infant's squeaky wails.

"A girl!" cried Myrrhine. "A granddaughter!" She took the warm rags from Hipparete and rubbed them gently over the smooth skin, raked aside waxy goo and blood. The baby stopped wailing and opened its eyes, blinked, lips formed as if to speak. "The navel cord, Hipparete. No, a steel blade is of ill omen. Bring a sharp piece of glass. There, cut it four fingerbreadths." Myrrhine squeezed clotted blood from the remaining length of cord.

"She's mine, Mother," said Melaina. "I want her." But she grunted again, groaned. "Ohhh! How's this? The gripping comes again! Is there no end?"

"Something is wrong," said Hipparete. "The chorion is left behind, won't fall clear and makes trouble."

"Eyie!" screamed Melaina. "It's devouring me!"

Again the chorus' voices lofted, swords clanged against shields, thunderbolts crashed. A few drops of rain fell. Kleito felt Melaina's abdomen, then laughed. "She has another loaf in the oven. Hurry, Myrrhine! That it not fall on the ground."

Myrrhine handed the first baby off to Hipparete and again sat before her daughter. With her left hand, she felt inside the hot, bloody opening to her daughter's womb. "You're right, Kleito. A slick, bald head." She looked up into Melaina's agony-filled eyes, saw tears, felt a knot in her own throat. "One more time, dearest. Twins! No wonder they've come early and with double trouble. This one'll be easier."

"I haven't the strength. My whole body is ruined."

Myrrhine could see her daughter's exhaustion written across her drawn face. "A few deep breaths. You must start again. The baby calls." She watched as Melaina roused herself, groaned.

Surrounded by lightning, neither cowering nor afraid, the women trusted in Zeus as would innocent children, that he'd not strike them dead amidst his own mystery. Crash after crash struck the mountain, illuminating the grotto scene witnessed by the spellbound audience as the chorus continued its crescendo of voices, laced with the twang of a minstrel's lyre brought to song by the plectrum. The chorus mimicked dances of the immortals, cosmic dances, twirling to imitate the course of planets through the heavens.

The second child did come easier, Myrrhine pulling at the infant during dilation, giving way when the uterus drew together. Myrrhine, lit by strobed lightning flashes, handed the baby to Hipparete, then turned to work the chorion. She inserted her left hand into her daughter's uterus before it closed, grasped the embryonic pouch by its roots, gently moved it from side to side to ensure it was unfettered, and pulled. While Melaina strained, Myrrhine applied a light but steady pressure, careful not to capture the uterus. Finally, the quivering mass of purplish jelly, with nerves, veins, and blood-filled arteries, pulled free. She set it sizzling on the fire.

"What's the second, Lady Hipparete?" asked Melaina. "I'll die if you don't say."

"Bright-eyed boy! Bald as a gourd."

"Let me have them before swaddling."

"Not so fast," said Myrrhine. "We've the cleanup work left."

While Philokleia stood back out of the way, sulking that all had gone well, Hipparete and Kleito bathed Melaina first with cloths doused in hot cauldron water, followed by heated olive oil, washed her genitals and padded them to absorb the drainage. For the breasts, which had already begun to swell with warm milk, Kleito applied fomentations with sea sponges squeezed in a decoction of aromatic fenugreek.

Myrrhine cleaned each child, first beating fine powdery salt with honey, besprinkled it over the child, avoiding the eyes and mouth, washed it with a great quantity of warm water. This she repeated, besprinkling and washing, with even warmer water. Then she squeezed thick mucus from the nose, cleared the mouth and injected the eyes with olive oil. With her little finger, she dilated the anus. She bent the naval cord double, wrapped it with a lock of wool. So, the second child.

Melaina took a child in each arm and soothed the wails with patting, gentle coos, put them inside her own blanket. Two naked little bodies pressed against their mother's warm skin.

Myrrhine watched her daughter, proud, jealous waves sweeping her. "May I take one?"

"Mother! You've seen them more than me."

"They need swaddling."

Melaina, baby cradled at each breast, said, "The man at Epidaurus had it backwards. The gods give two blessings for a single trial."

Melaina finally gave up the little girl. Myrrhine gently laid her on a blanket in her own lap, gathered soft wool bandages three-fingers width. She held the babe's left hand and felt its fingers grip her thumb, fell in love, so tiny. She kissed them. She wrapped the fingers, wound the palm, forearm, biceps. Wrapped the other arm. She wound a larger bandage around the tiny chest and bound the breast tight, the loins loose.

She looked away, then spoke again, but her voice cracked, felt a sob in her throat. "The little girl, all that hair. She's but a duplicate of you, Melaina."

Each leg she swaddled separate, so to the toe tips. Then she placed the arms tight against the sides, the feet ankle against ankle, and with a broad bandage wrapped the babe from chest to toes to prevent twisting and inordinate movement. About the head, she wrapped a soft clean cloth. Thus, she also wrapped the little boy, but loosened the chest bindings and tightened them about the loins. More seemly for a male.

She passed both babes off to Melaina.

The warriors and slave children of Laurium had vanished, leaving only the women's chorus's soft song and the quick floating rhythm of tender feet. It was a vision of the cosmos: the twin primal forces of music and twirling dance setting order amid chaos, the ethereal elements woven tight by gesture and movement as even the very planets coursed the heavens.

Agido beamed at the babies as if they were her own.

"May I give them a nipple?" Melaina asked. "Both are making smacking noises."

Melaina then took each nipple in turn, wet her babies' lips with them. They set to sucking. Melaina first winced with pain, then smiled as intense pleasure spread across her face.

While Melaina nursed them, Myrrhine set torches about, and Zeus continued his lightning and thunder. The babies trembled at each flash, frightening crash. Like flaming pillars, the bright bolts stood and vanished, yet lingered in the mind. The chorus parted to give the audience more than a glimpse. A deathly stillness fell.

A final lightning bolt struck the cave itself, setting afire the wobbly-hinged Gates of Hades. The crowd cringed back from the crash, women ran screaming as if having viewed light from the Elysian Fields. Great shouts of surprise and amazement erupted.

When the commotion subsided, and the fire on the wooden gates became but smoking embers, young Sophocles made a short appearance. He'd only just heard of their return from Asia and rushed to the ruins. He was surprised to see Melaina with two babies. He smiled to see such tiny humans, blushed before Melaina, then walked away.

Little Euripides finally came to see, touched his finger to a tiny nose, then took up residence beside Melaina, snuggled against her shoulder.

Melaina spoke to Hipparete. "Have you seen Kallias?" she asked.

"Gone to Athens," she said. "Melaina... He'll not have the children as his own."

"I know," she said. "I've watched him agonize over me and the pregnancy for several days. Finally he's decided."

Myrrhine saw a cloud descended over her daughter, but she breathed a sigh of relief. "This is all for the best," she said. "I don't believe either of them. Not Kallias, not Aeschylus. Your father would never have given a Eumolpid to one of the Kerykes and upset the balance of power in the Mysteries."

"But Kallias described Father's death scene to me. How the two of them were alone and Father close to death. Father gave me to him for my protection. So Kallias tells it."

"Aeschylus wasn't there?"

"No, according to Kallias."

What great liars, both of them, she thought. She'd not trouble her daughter further with this. Not only Kallias, but also Aeschylus would have some explaining to do. Myrrhine saw the blacksmith approaching.

Palaemon told her, "Bring mother and children to my home. This is no shelter for the newborn."

CHAPTER 40: Journey to the Elysian Fields

Myrrhine stood at the makeshift loom she'd pieced together, listening to the clang of the blacksmith's hammer and swoosh of bellows at the opposite end of the courtyard. Palaemon had been better than his word. He'd moved himself out and given Myrrhine, Melaina, and the babes the best chamber in his home, small though it was, having swept and scrubbed it during the night. He'd left the furnishings and found new bedding. Myrrhine realized that Akmon and Damnameneus had performed much of the work and reluctantly felt indebted. She hoped to get her own home rebuilt soon. The oath the generals took before the battle of Plataea, to not rebuild the burned sanctuary, still worried her.

Kleito spoke words of departure while giving Melaina a supply of kakhry, fruit of the herb libanotis. "It smells like frankincense but brings breast milk, should you be slow to lactate."

Melaina accepted the leather pouch, thanking Kleito for the remedies against birthing travails. "I'd still be in labor but for you."

Kleito left by carriage for her home at Phlya. "It's nearly burned to the ground and ravaged by Persians," she said. "But it's where I belong." She retrieved Euripides, who was pestering Agido by pulling at her braids, and set off.

Myrrhine put her mind to names for the babies. Two of them! Kynegeiros would be proud. A grandson! She tried not to think of Kallias trying to take control of the Mysteries by marrying Melaina. Aeschylus had remained nearby while the two family additions came into the world. Myrrhine thought of his alliance with Kallias and wondered if Aeschylus realized how close that scene had come to the epiphany of the Mysteries.

"Theonoë," said Melaina. She'd been up and around since yesterday with Agido begging to help. Myrrhine had never seen such swift recovery. Melaina and Agido bathed the babies at the back of the chamber, then lay them down to sleep.

"What?" Myrrhine asked, fitting a scorched shuttle with soft thread.

"Theonoë. Fits her perfectly. Her little eyes project wisdom. She'll know the gods' designs, both what is and what will be."

"And the boy?"

"Zakorus, for Grandfather."

Agido giggled. "That's a big name for a small child."

"One day he'll be Hierophant."

Myrrhine wondered if her daughter was right. She'd not tell her of the generals' oath. Could Greece really exist without the Mysteries? The last two years, Eleusis had conducted no official ceremony. Yet, the Hierophant had held that initiation of the dead before the battle of Salamis. And the scene with Melaina giving birth two nights ago, lightning and thunder crashing around them, could be viewed as the epiphany with Zeus himself officiating.

"I knew Kallias would reject me when we returned," said Melaina. "You were right, Mother. Men have no stomach for aberrations in women. He'd support me as long as I served his needs, but won't tolerate me running his home."

"It's all of little consequence."

"Why so? Children need a father."

"If your grandfather returns, perhaps he can solve this problem. It will not be difficult to find a more suitable match for you, one who will love and foster the children."

"Agido," said Melaina, "find some lamp black and papyrus for me. Please?"

Myrrhine checked the weights at the ends of the warp, fingered the threads, slid the shuttle through. "More poetry?" she asked.

"Through all the years since Father's death at Marathon, I've longed for some word from him. Just any memory meant for me alone. I'll write a short scroll for each of these, my babies. I'll not have them raised without a heartening word from me. Bad enough they won't have a father. I love them so."

"They'll have years of memories of you."

"I need to tell you something, Mother. Seriously."

The gravity of Melaina's words alarmed Myrrhine. She turned a weary eye toward her daughter.

"My seizures have become progressively worse. The one at Kallias' home almost marked me permanently. When on Delos and again on the beach at Mykale, I had partial seizures. I didn't fall, but trembled and had visions."

"Surely this shows improvement. Definitely not cause for concern. Perhaps they'll stop altogether."

"Oh Mother! How I love your eternal optimism! Ever you see the bright side of a dark reality. I felt the closeness of death following my last full seizure at Kallias' home. Since then, I've noticed a gathering storm, some great anger approaching. The partial seizures delayed it, but only while giving birth have I been sure I'd not have an attack."

Melaina fell silent as Agido returned.

"The lamp black is of no great quality," Agido said. "The papyrus is from my father's private store." Her voiced cracked. "He'll not need it in the Underworld. I couldn't find a stylus."

"I already have one," Melaina said. "You're a dear to give such precious stores. Now you must leave me alone with my mother, sweet Agido. We've something to discuss." When she protested, Melaina said, "Shush, be brave little Agido. And always remember, I've never loved any friend more than you."

When she was gone, Melaina added. "Kallias has my dowry."

"Oh dear Demeter! I knew it, though Kallias wouldn't admit to it."

"Though he's rejected me, he still may try to keep it for himself. And I won't be here to see that Theonoë gets it."

"You can't be serious. You're recovering remarkably."

"Grave are the days coming! Worry the dowry, not for me, but for little Theonoë. It's hers henceforth."

"Surely you're wrong. Perhaps you'll have another seizure but be fine afterward."

Melaina told her, "I never foresee a seizure's day or hour but can feel a disposition toward one. Plus," she said, her voice cracking, "I read it in the entrails of a sacrificial victim while on Delos."

Myrrhine felt as though her daughter had stabbed her with a kitchen knife. "Surely, you're wrong about this. Demeter wouldn't permit such a thing with the children meaning so much to the Mysteries."

Melaina didn't respond, but continued to write scrolls to the children, stopping now and then to nurse or change their soiled cloths. Melaina bathed and dressed herself becomingly, and afterward Myrrhine caught her talking to the babies as she took each in her arms, fondly kissed them. "Never shall I see you dance the Bear, Theonoë, or you, little Zakorus, lead the initiates to Eleusis. Farewell, my babes, little orphans. Live glad lives in the light."

Into evening, Myrrhine's vigil continued as she grew increasingly apprehensive of her daughter's state. Late that night, Melaina came to her, took her hands within her own, as she'd not done for so long. "Ensure they build a temple to Artemis here at Eleusis," Melaina said. "Artemis demands it." She fell quiet again. "I wanted so to remain virgin. And never wished to be married. I wanted only freedom, but once married, learned a sort of love for Kallias. Just as the gods wouldn't allow me to stay virgin, so they also took my marriage."

Myrrhine told her, "Freedom is an illusion here on earth, and is only real in the Afterlife. All we see and know is a but metaphor of the eternal."

"Such I've learned. Now I can imagine nothing greater than being mother to my babes. But Zeus will take them from me, too. It's as if first he makes me see what I've renounced, ensures I love it, then takes it from me as punishment."

Myrrhine saw a nervous twitch in her daughter's eye. A slight trembling in the limbs. "Are you certain you'll have another seizure?"

"More so than ever. Do not, Mother, I pray, store bitter sorrows, for you'll only become a bird of ill omen. Promise if I should die you'll summon cheerfulness and a peaceful spirit. Now tell me of the Underworld."

Realizing that her daughter might be right, Myrrhine bid Melaina sit. "Should it happen," she said but faltered, then gathered her courage. "Inside Hades, a spring flows on the right, and beside it grows a white cypress. Descending souls cool there, but you should pass on without drinking as the water contains forgetfulness. Further on, guardians will ask why you're wandering Hades. Tell them you are a daughter of both Earth and Uranus, desiccated with thirst, and wish cool water from the Lake of Recollection. Afterward, you'll come to a meadow, be stripped naked and judged wearing only life's deeds. Zeus appointed King Minos of Crete to hold court in this meadow, where the path branches to the Isle of the Blessed and Tartarus. Holding his golden sceptre, he scans your soul. Those who've suffered at the hands of the gods have been cured of evil deeds, and thus, go to Elysium. Those guilty of heinous crimes are past cure and sent to Tartarus. You needn't worry. You're headed for eternal oneness alongside the divine."

"How can you be sure?" said Melaina, grasping the golden broach of Arrogance. "I killed and beheaded a man in Asia."

"That was in war. Besides, you've abandoned bodily pleasures and devoted yourself to knowledge, afitted your soul with courage and selflessness. You're devoted to others and country. Look at all you've suffered for the sake of Hellas. I'd think your concern would be that you've lived so little, been cheated of a full life, not of where you're going."

"Oh, not so! Remember? Grandfather told me, I've been blessed with two fates. Kynthia at Brauron died that I might live a while longer. Before she stepped between the assassin and me, I saw my own death. Favored I've been, not cheated. Yet, it is with dire dread that I leave you, Mother. What happiness can I have even in the Elysian Fields without you?"

Myrrhine saw the muscles twitch in her daughter's cheeks. Melaina took a deep breath. Her hands trembled. "Oh Mother, I feel a tightness between the shoulders and hear ringing in my ears. Eyie! Sparks, fiery circles. Ah! They come!"

"Who, Melaina? What's happening?" Her daughter seemed to be looking through her to something beyond.

"First comes the dark lady, dread Persephone, though beautiful beyond words. Then comes dear Hermes, guide of souls, followed by Father, your husband. Aha! His hand has been restored. In the distance, I see Charon, death's ferryman, with his two-oared skiff lurking at the dock, his hand impatient upon the boatman's pole."

"Are you really leaving me?"

"Don't worry. Father will care for me. Though you live a long life, it will be as tomorrow you shall join us."

"Ah me! What'll I do without you?"

"One last thing. We owe a cock to Asklepios. Don't forget it." Melaina reached for the leather strap but couldn't grasp it, gave a strange cry. She fell backward as the bodyquake took hold, rent her legs stiff, and turned up the whites of her eyes.

Though she'd prepared herself, Myrrhine was shocked at the power, the ugliness of it. "Off!" she screamed, "the child is not yet yours." She searched the fold of Melaina's chiton and found the leather strap, forced it between her daughter's teeth although the struggle was fierce. Already, foam formed at the mouth's corners, and Melaina was slick with sweat. Her arms beat the ground as if they were drumsticks in the hands of some madman.

The shaking stopped, but Myrrhine knew it wasn't over. Melaina's eyes flitted back and forth, her limbs tensed. The seizure struck again. Melaina was beyond her help. Myrrhine turned her daughter loose and stepped back as the entire body was lifted from the ground, thrown about.

As quickly as it began, all was silent, still. Melaina was at rest, but breathless, lifeless. "Oh! Hermes, no!" Myrrhine screamed. "Don't take her. Mark her if you must. Cross an eye, wither a hand, but don't take Melaina from me."

Again the sickness seized Melaina's limp form, as if it were some god in the midst of a terrible rage. It shook her until Myrrhine thought the body would be dismembered.

"Leave her alone!" cried Myrrhine. "Can't you see she's dead?" Myrrhine wept, again took Melaina in her arms, her darling daughter, and prayed her not leave. "Already I yearn to stand in the light with you, but gone are all our times together."

Myrrhine fell on the neck of her dead daughter, wept her miserable heart out. "Would that on the day I heard of Kynegeiros' evil death, I'd straightway given up my own life and gone among the shades. Once I was admired among Eleusinian women. Now I'll pine away, ill-fated for love of you, my only child."

Then Myrrhine made a long, frantic appeal to Asklepios. "Divine healer! I know you possess blood from the Gorgon's right artery that heals the dead. Bring some swiftly for Melaina." Although she realized that Zeus had killed Asklepios because of such an act, still she argued her case. "Zeus is wrong to have allowed Melaina's death. Your healing act will be justified. Please! Asklepios, please!"

Myrrhine held tight to her daughter's limp frame, felt the warmth dissolve. She rose to her feet, stood over the body, and prayed long with one arm outstretched, palm upturned, the other fist clenched over her heart. She beseeched dear Hermes to be gentle with Melaina, to guide her swiftly to the Elysian Fields. She evoked Charon, Hades, told gracious Persephone how much Melaina loved her, begged her grace.

Just before dawn, one baby cried and woke the other. Myrrhine left her daughter covered with a blanket and went to care for the children but had nothing to quell hunger wails. She walked to the chicken coop. She witnessed the cocks' first crowing and carried home a warm-feathered rooster. At the slaughter stone before the sacred grotto, she lopped the head with an ax and let the rooster's black blood flow as its flapping wings created great gusts of dust in the temple. She stood with arms outstretched to the god but could find no words to propitiate him.

She returned.

Myrrhine checked Melaina again. Yes, she was dead. Reluctantly, ever so tenderly, Myrrhine closed her daughter's eyes, released her soul.

CHAPTER 41: The Funeral

Agido couldn't stop screaming. Her face swelled to bursting, veins dilated and blue against her forehead, cheeks flushed crimson. Still her screams echoed along Eleusis' streets, unconsoled even by Anaktoria.

Morning came without a breath of air, and the sunlight filtered through a dull haze. Myrrhine's cheeks were wet and her heart in agony when she sent runners to Athens for Aeschylus and Kallias, to Kolonus for Sophocles, and Phlya for Kleito. She walked the length of the courtyard to the smithy, where the crippled blacksmith sat in silence as if awaiting his own death sentence, bellows not breathing, fires but dying embers. She heard the far-off thud of axes as woodcutters felled giant timbers to warm the hearths of Eleusis.

"Come witness," she said, "the corpse of she who was not merely loved, but the loveliest of the beloved."

He hobbled after Myrrhine to the chamber where the body lay. He fell before it pouring torrents of tears, his words now marked by the Ionian dialect. Around the lifeless form, he pranced on dwarfed legs like some dumb beast. Grief expended, he spoke with uncharacteristic pessimism. "The gods never take villainy but by chance, the noble always."

"Melaina never felt that way."

"Her generous nature wouldn't allow as much," he said, "but I've seen the wicked given excellent care, Hades never calling rogues and knaves but gleeful in stalking the valorous and just. The gods want the most precious with them."

"Be grateful they allowed her with us as long as they did."

"A grievous task we have to live a bleak existence without the one who makes it bearable. Never has the world seen the like of this one."

While awaiting the arrival of family and friends, Myrrhine rummaged her small store of clothing, holding out sable-hued grieving rags. She had nothing suitable in which to dress the corpse and began to worry about it. Before the gates of Palaemon's home, she placed a bowl of lustral spring water and sheared a lock of Melaina's blond hair for the threshold. Palaemon set giant Akmon and Damnameneus to scavenging wood for the funeral pyre and digging the grave. Melaina would lie beside her father at the family cemetery close by.

Helios had already reached the zenith and begun his descent when Hipparete arrived, followed shortly by melancholic Philokleia, Aeschylus' wife, fully within her element and weaving her web of woe. "Punishment for the way you raised her," Philokleia said.

Myrrhine was staggered by the cutting remark but remained silent. Neither Aeschylus nor Kallias were among the mourners. Myrrhine thought it strange, but knew that sending the dead to their final destination was women's work. Hipparete brought a glorious white, ankle-length himation for the deceased, so that was one worry Myrrhine could set aside. No word of Kleito. Perhaps Mnesarchides wouldn't allow her to come.

"Thank goodness you're here, Hipparete," Myrrhine said. "You can help keep my emotions within bounds."

Myrrhine sought restraint in grieving. Law prohibited loud wailing or other unseemly excesses. She didn't know how she could possibly watch the body burn. Just then, all Melaina's best traits came to full bloom. How gentle she was with children, her willingness to give, her devotion to country. There'd be no more illuminating questions, no prophecies. The wonder had gone from Myrrhine's life.

Myrrhine would allow no one but herself to handle the body and trusted others only to retrieve fresh sea water, the origin of all life, and dowse the sponge. But Myrrhine took the sponge herself and tenderly, gently caressed her daughter's body with it, as might a lover, using soothing strokes. She washed the breasts, dabbed dried milk from the nipples, rubbed them with perfumed olive oil as if for a wedding. She washed with particular care the navel where Melaina had been connected to her own body fifteen years before, the tortured privates where Melaina had given birth, smoothed away blood crusts. The limbs were most sorrowful, rigid already with death's creeping stiffness.

The face she washed last, most painful, and allowed herself a single mournful wail. "I hoped you'd nurse me in my dotage, deck my corpse with loving hands." Delicately she washed away caked foam from the lips, affectionately scrubbed the nose, eyelids, fondled the ears. She fixed the golden silk hair, soft, manageable. How many times she'd brushed and braided it, felt its rich curls between her fingers. Lastly, she cut two locks and rolled one within each of the scrolls that Melaina had written for the babes.

The women moved the body to the death couch, Hipparete and Philokleia helping slip on the himation, prop the head with a pillow. Myrrhine added her daughter's favorite earrings and necklace just before Palaemon returned with a gold lip-band to hold Melaina's mouth closed and a gold strophion to grace her head, add queenly presence.

Myrrhine was content with a single bronze obol slipped between the lips, but Palaemon wouldn't have it and substituted two gold-foil coins he'd made himself, Charon's pieces. Myrrhine put a honey cake in Melaina's hand to distract Kerberos when she arrived at the Gates of Hades, and remembering the eagle broach, pinned it between the breasts.

"Yes," said the smith, "she wore it well."

The dark, smelly forms of Akmon and Damnameneus moved the couch upon the high-standing bier and set it in the center of the chamber, feet facing toward the door. Myrrhine draped it with a white cloth and spread myrtle branches over the feet. She swept the chamber and the floor of the smithy, saving the sweepings in a leather pouch.

Death's garniture was complete.

As darkness descended on the ruins of Eleusis, strangers journeying by sea and land gathered before the blacksmith's home. Unaccountably, they'd heard of the death. Observing great composure and quiet, they entered, said prayers bierside, then lingered in the courtyard. Many brought sacrificial animals, slaughtered them, and held their own funerary banquet.

From among them emerged Pindar, the famous bard Myrrhine had seen at the Isthmus. "I'm on my way to witness the siege of Thebes, my home, see it burned or saved. Never would I have thought that the little priestess I saw dance at Poseidon's temple could be dead.

Myrrhine asked if he'd sing before continuing on his way. "Rather than a dirge to incite an unseemly tempest of grief, let it be inspirational. Melaina would have wanted it so."

Pindar accompanied himself on the lyre and sang standing before the crowd in the courtyard, his voice lofting a forlorn refrain.

The death yoke comes hard for all us left behind  
but even Kronos, father of all,  
can undo none of the Fates' determined endings  
whether in right or wrong. The good soul,  
pure from all dishonorable deeds, passes  
where ocean-breezes blow round the Isle of the Blest  
and flowers of gold blaze from radiant trees.  
For them, Helios shines in meadows red with roses,  
shaded by the incense tree laden with golden fruit.  
So shall it be for the deceased here.  
Pure was her heart, loyalty to Hellas ever her cause.

Afterward, a chorus of maidens clapped their youthful palms and danced around the bier. Myrrhine let it go awhile, enjoying the sweet voices that reminded her so much of Melaina's. Finally, she stepped forward. "Hold the hymn, stay the dancers!" she called. "Enough! Time for bed. Fatigue is the enemy of us all. Let the mourning continue at the procession early tomorrow."

She thanked Pindar and sent him on his way.

Myrrhine hadn't slept in two days and went to bed hoping for at least a little rest. They'd all be up long before first light. By law, the burial had to be complete by sunrise. She hugged the crying babies to her, each frail squeak reminding her of their need for nourishment. She'd tried goat's milk without success. Little Theonoë spit up, and Zakorus got mad about it, clenching his little fists and wrinkling his brow. She'd find a wet nurse in the morning after the funeral. Before bed, she ingested the rest of the herb Kleito had given Melaina, the kakhry, to produce milk. An overdose taken all at once, it was worth a try. She dozed thinking that she had become her own daughter. Both babes were so precious.

Myrrhine woke several times, reasoning that Melaina's death had been a dream, and finally felt it so strongly that she rose and walked into the death chamber, only to find Melaina still on the bier, flesh cold and firm, tight within the grasp of death's stiffness. She stood over the body expecting Melaina to awake, sit up. She remembered that Death and Sleep are twin brothers who dwell in the country of dreams. She kissed Melaina's face, couldn't quit kissing it, the cold lifeless flesh sweet nectar to her lips. She returned to bed.

A ruckus in the house, followed by the babies' wails, woke her. She started at a chill across her bosom, then realized that her bedding was soaked. Tightness in her breasts caused her to pull open her nightgown. Milk flowed copiously. The kakhry had worked. She put a child to each breast, as had Melaina, an elbow cradling each. She felt that sensual, sexual heat creeping into her bosom that she'd not known since breast-feeding Melaina. How she'd missed that feeling. And how different were the two babes. Little Theonoë quietly sucking, placid, pensive, gentle at the nipple, sighed. Shiny-headed Zakorus' greediness already showed, sweat puddles under his eyes as he worked hard at the warm breast, butted when flow slowed like a kid at the nanny's udder, squealed. Guilt swept over Myrrhine, enjoying Melaina's children so.

Myrrhine arrived late at the procession, the bier already upon a funeral wagon. Ghost-like shapes wailed about it. Why the hearse? she wondered. The walk to the family cist tomb is but a short one. Pallbearers would be more appropriate. Dogs stretched awake, yawned. Birds rustled at their roost. Bright stars broke the black overhead. Arkturus, the star that ushered in the harvest of grapes and pears, hung well above the horizon. Oh, how Melaina had loved sweet pears! Kallias' four high-spirited black horses, barely visible in the darkness, stood impatiently before the train. All was ready, waiting. But the procession faced the wrong direction, west not east.

Aeschylus stood before the horses ready to give the command forward.

Just then, Kleito arrived by carriage. Waterfalls of apologies poured forth from her along with tears upon seeing Melaina's corpse atop the bier. Myrrhine hugged her, passed a babe to her, the other to Hipparete. Myrrhine turned back to question Aeschylus.

"She'll not be buried in the family cist," he said.

Fear seized Myrrhine. Aeschylus seemed no longer her late husband's brother, but some evil spirit hovering about the death train. "But Kynegeiros' daughter demands burial alongside her father."

"Not so," he said.

"But the pyre and grave have been made ready beside him."

"I ordered them changed last night, timbers moved, trench filled."

Myrrhine saw Agido and Anaktoria nearby and did not want them to witness her hostility, then thought it better that they learn early men's unjust nature. Rage flamed in Myrrhine's heart, a great hurt fueling it.

"What idiocy! Have you gone mad?" She turned to Kallias. "Why shield yourself behind Aeschylus, Kallias? Is this your doing? You want your wife buried with your family?"

Kallias shuffled his feet. "She'll not be interred there either. Our marriage was never consummated."

Myrrhine, standing close to Kallias, felt a sudden hatred for him, had to check her fists. She had never hit a man. "Melaina warned me of your fickle heart. She saved your life in Asia. Think about what you're doing." She turned back to Aeschylus. "Still, the procession points in the wrong direction. Burial along the Sacred Way is to the east."

"The Sacred Way has nothing for this corpse."

"Cowards! Why didn't you reveal this maliciousness last night? I'm a woman, not one to reverse men's dictates."

"We'd not trouble you unnecessarily," said Aeschylus. "It's the epilepsy. I'll not have the frenzy pollute those already laid to rest."

"Many the hero who died with the falling sickness, yet was given a glorious burial."

"None's death was caused by it."

"Where's the burial to be then? Some dark world corner to hide this shame that is my lovely daughter?"

"West of the city."

"Hence the hearse instead of pallbearers. But all that lies out there is the burial site of those disgraced centuries ago by the futile siege of Thebes, the leaders of Argos' armies who died in the struggle between Oedipus' sons. That is a burial site for commoners, slaves, and those humiliated by defeat."

"The same."

"Melaina during life was infinitely kind. Even as a child, she'd invite my breast to other infants, serve them at her own bountiful table. Remember her prayer before the battle of Salamis? Her call to you to find your own courage? Surely you'd not reward such kindness, such honor, with ostracism."

Aeschylus stood silent.

"Enemy within my own family! I should have known your mischief wouldn't end with marrying off my daughter without me. But this cunning deception strikes at the heart of divine justice. Many an evil will this act spawn."

Myrrhine shrieked, then left the lot of them and returned inside the house. She took up a dull blade, chopped at her hair, scraping at it angrily until it was cut close about her face. She noticed broad streaks of gray that had come upon her overnight. Then she turned her nails upon her cheeks and unleashed sharp pain that lured ever deeper. Runnels of bright blood merged with her tears' stinging torrents. She cherished the sharp pain, delighted as her nails stripped skin from her own flesh. She rubbed filth into her grieving cloths, ripped them, covered herself in hearth ashes.

She returned, unleashing her fury anew on Aeschylus. "In this bosom festers wrath and hate immeasurable."

Aeschylus shook his head. "Don't surrender to unwarranted grief and rage. The law requires natural sadness and goodwill instead of wild, frenzied mourning."

"You forget," she said, "when Zeus apportioned honors, Grief asked and Zeus granted a share."

"Yes, but only a share."

The procession moved slowly through the dark city gate. Kleito held a babe in one arm and helped Myrrhine walk with the other. They left cobblestone for the dirt road west toward Megara, past the earth-scarred quarry to a stone enclosure at the edge of town where the ancient Argive warriors lay buried. Beside the enclosure, Myrrhine saw a tower of timber and a hill of dirt beside an open grave.

Myrrhine turned on Aeschylus again. "Do not do this evil thing," she said. "Lead us back beside her father's grave."

Aeschylus remained silent.

Myrrhine clenched her teeth, so her words hissed through them. "The procrastination of the divine in punishing the wicked is infamous. But never you mind the slow grinding. The mill of the gods ever turns. Soft though she treads, divine Justice in her own season seizes them unawares, deals the fatal blow." Then she put him out of her mind and turned back to her daughter.

Myrrhine fell to her knees on the soft, fresh earth. Here she'd have the last glimpse of her daughter in this life. She climbed upon the bier, took Melaina's stiff hand in hers. "Ah me! What mournful dirge shall I sing to you? O Melaina, how can I now go through life? Hear me, sweet daughter. Never did I realize how much I loved you. My life is gone, my heart in ruins. Hear me, daughter. It is I who call! Ruined me, printing a kiss on your dead lips." With great spasms of sobs she fell upon her daughter, embraced her, cuddled her face.

Finally, she stepped down, and Aeschylus and Kallias hoisted Melaina upon the funeral pyre. Myrrhine saw Palaemon, his twisted shape never looking so burdened by deformity, hovering about, stepping forward as if to help, then stepping back shaking his head.

Myrrhine took a torch from Aeschylus and stepped up to the felled timbers. "O Melaina! Forgive me, dearest! Had I Orpheus' tuneful voice to charm Demeter's daughter, I'd descend into the Underworld and return you to life. Not even Kerberos, Hades fell hound, could hold me from restoring you." A great pain seized Myrrhine's chest as she touched flame to tinder. She circled the pyre, spreading fire along its flanks.

The greedy blaze leaped along the timbers, wetting each limb with cleansing flame, licked her daughter's garments until they also burned. "O divine Demeter, I release my daughter to the fire to make her immortal. Receive her into your care. If it weren't for these two babes, my limbs would be stretched beside hers on these same flames."

Myrrhine saw the dark shapes of Akmon and Damnameneus hovering just outside the firelight and thought of a use for them. "The grave pit must be larger, deeper," she said. That set them grumbling about the first pit they'd covered in, but still their huge shapes again bent hard over their shovels. Myrrhine's mind was a whir of odious thoughts.

She cast her eyes over the desolate landscape, then looked out over the bay. These were the deep black bogs where frogs croaked, dread children of lake and land who live in both worlds representing both the living and dead, speaking their, "ko-ax, ko-ax," from the depths of marsh rushes. Myrrhine made up her mind to work something dirty to repay Aeschylus for burying her daughter in this forlorn moorland.

As the flames rose skyward, loosing their roar of sorrow, Myrrhine stepped back from the heat, then stepped forward again, relishing the pain it caused her lacerated cheeks. Her daughter was on her own, lost from view by the conflagration. Loud cracks scattered coals, and sparks soared skyward, trails of brilliance dancing into the heavens. Ever higher, upward it burned, the purifying flame soaring amid the stars, all accompanied by Myrrhine's wails of woe as her daughter winged her way to Elysium.

As the fire died, glowing skeletons of coals ribbed the pyre. The iridescent timbers gave way and crashed to the ground. Myrrhine stood within the ashes, searching for her daughter's remains. As the glow faded, she decided against letting anyone help bury Melaina's bones. Fetching the babes from Hipparete and Kleito, Myrrhine passed them off to Palaemon despite their whimpers of protest, then turned on Aeschylus.

"Off with you, scoundrel!" she shouted. "I'll not have you at the burial."

Aeschylus stood his ground. "I fear you devise some cureless ill against us all. Say you'll quench your thirst for this sea of misery."

"I do only what benefits my daughter. Should I catch you here when I sacrifice, I'll slit your throat and throw your blood-drained body into the pit along with her urn of ashes." She picked up and threw a clod from the burial mound, hit him in the chest.

Aeschylus was visibly shaken, and Philokleia stopped her ranting. Both slinked grudgingly off into the darkness.

Myrrhine hugged Agido and Anaktoria, bid them leave with their parents, then told Kleito to wait at the grotto. "No need for you to be part of what I am about to do," she said. Kallias and Hipparete had already left aboard the carriage.

With them gone, Myrrhine realized that Sophocles had not attended the funeral. No matter. She quickly turned to the smith. "I'll need Akmon and Damnameneus to do something dirty." She then faced the two dark shapes, feeling camaraderie, fidelity, great comfort in their presence. "If you're not up to it, say so. I'll not hold it against you. My anger rages out of control."

Myrrhine knew the two tended to be short on words, and now only heard a grunt from each, something low, harsh, favorable.

"I want the four black stallions. Can you get them?"

"Kallias will not part with them willingly," said Palaemon.

"He need not know. Follow him, quickly! Steal the horses!" An inspiration seized her. "Also, bring a single thin sheet of lead, enough for a curse tablet, and a nail. Bring Kallias' chariot. Steal everything breakable, pots, jars, from wherever. And most of all, a sharp blade of the finest bronze, a hammer, and an apple."

Akmon and Damnameneus didn't wait for Palaemon's okay. They disappeared, hungry to execute a fell deed.

Myrrhine did not douse the coals with wine, nor did she loiter as the embers cooled. She collected the ashes, skull, rib bones, knuckles, ankles, charred vertebrae while relishing the sting of the hot coals as they singed her daughter's cinders into her own hands. She scooped the melted metal, puddles of gold left by the eagle-broach, headband and strophion, then draped herself in Melaina's hot ashes that they might burn her daughter's essence into her.

All this she placed alongside the delicate bones within the funeral urn: blackened joints first, next the fine fingers and toes as were left, gold puddles, all capped by the skull. The ordering she changed several times, unable to get it right. Only the smith's troubled countenance hovering over her put a stop to it. She looked up into his face, set aglow by the coals of the burned out pyre, heard the children wailing in his arms.

"Forgive me," he said, "for what I'm about to ask, but I've seen you harden yourself to this task such as I'd never believed possible." He stopped talking and stood blinking in the dark. "Though I've the words, I lack the courage to speak."

"Don't tremble so, Palaemon. I know nothing but good could cause your questioning."

"It's thoughts of Medea troubling me."

Myrrhine wondered what on earth could be the connection with the Kolchian sorceress of ancient days. Then, she realized. Medea had killed her own children. "Brave Palaemon, I read your heart, and I'm sorry for causing such concern. Never could I steel myself to slay the children. Rest assured, I've not calculated such a murderous deed."

Myrrhine climbed down into the grave pit, dark scar in Mother Earth, and brought Melaina's metal urn with her. Her sandals bogged in the moist earth, and she noticed the musty, earthy odor of the Underworld.

"Dear daughter," she said aloud, "I'll leave here for now what remains of your earthly form. But never think I'll rest until you're laid alongside your father."

Myrrhine climbed to the surface amid the rhythmic clap of horses' hooves. Kallias' carriage careened into sight, the black steeds greedy at the run, puffing steam, the chariot stacked with clanking vessels of every shape, size, and material. Akmon worked hard at the reins, bringing all to a halt, while Damnameneus labored to keep the clanging jars from cracking.

Myrrhine asked for the nail and lead sheet first, and as would a schoolchild writing upon a tablet, she scratched harsh, querulous words into the soft surface.

May Aeschylus, the tragic poet, go to Tartarus,  
and likewise Kallias, the richest man in Athens.  
I bind Kallias before Hermes the Restrainer and Persephone,  
the tongue of Kallias, the hands of Kallias, the soul of Kallias  
the feet of Kallias, the body of Kallias, the head of Kallias  
because he deserted his wife, my daughter.  
I bind Aeschylus before Hermes the Restrainer,  
the hands, the feet, the tongue, the body of Aeschylus,  
the will of Aeschylus for improper burial of Melaina.

Myrrhine labored over each word, ensuring the letters were of uneven size and written in different directions, upside down. Greater the disorder, the more powerful the curse. She folded the tablet and, taking the bronze nail into her hand, grew large and menacing, the likeness of some awful goddess of inevitability, she seemed, divine Fate herself. Through cold lifeless lead, she hammered home the nail as if marking the close of an age, then tossed the curse tablet into the grave alongside the urn.

Akmon and Damnameneus unharnessed the carriage beside the grave and took the horses behind the ancient gravesite wall. Myrrhine asked for the sword and saw that they'd thieved the glorious blade that Aeschylus had captured from a Persian at the battle of Salamis. "You've exceeded all my hopes," she said.

She asked that they bring forward the first horse.

The black stallion trembled in her presence, nervous ripples cascading along its obsidian flanks. She spoke sweet warbled words into its ear, reached for the flowing mien, then slit its throat in one swift stroke. The horse didn't bolt, just stood dumbfounded while its gaping wound waterfalled blood into the grave. Slowly its legs gave way before collapsing in a heap in the grave.

Myrrhine wiped the blade on her gown, asked for the apple and the second horse. "Blindfold it," she said, knowing it'd bolt at the sight of its felled companion. She split the apple and rubbed it on the horse's nostrils, let its molars crunch the pulp, so it'd not smell the fresh blood. Each of the remaining three she sacrificed in this way, said a prayer over the stack of fresh bodies, and finally, threw Aeschylus' sword in on top.

"Throw the jars from the carriage here on the ground," she said, "and give me the hammer." Then she loosed her rage.

They carefully set the first pot at the side of the grave, and she smashed it with the hammer, shoved the pieces in on top of the horses. Bewildered, the two gently set the next jar on the ground before her, and she smashed it as well. Akmon and Damnameneus finally caught the mood and began throwing jars to the ground, crashing them into the grave pit. They'd brought more than pots and serving dishes, having stripped Kallias' stable of all his saddles, bridles and blankets.

The medal urns Myrrhine smashed with the hammer, clanging like a dull bell ringing over the plain and out into the swampy bay, sending word to all the Underworld that a beloved was coming amongst them. The grave brimmed, and they heaped dirt upon it, packing the mound tight as the bright morning sun broke the eastern horizon. Myrrhine deposited the house sweepings she'd brought with her, then scattered brilliant flowers over the mound.

Myrrhine hurled herself to the ground and hammered the earth with her fists as if pounding the gates of the Underworld. Long she beat the nourishing earth, bent forward on her knees, wailing to Hades and cold Persephone, tear-soaking her lap. She finished with a call to Melaina. "Daughter of Kynegeiros, have a happy life in Hades. Pass swiftly through the golden gates of Elysium. No year-long mourning will I keep, but all my life."

CHAPTER 42: The Cost of Salvation

As dawn stretched its rosy fingertips over Eleusis' ruins, a monstrous screech arose. Kallias had discovered his horses missing. The entire city fell into an uproar, everyone missing something. Myrrhine's heartache was replaced by a consuming loneliness of the soul, an exile of the spirit that left her feeling so frail she felt she could be whisked away by a puff of wind. This was the first day she'd spend with her daughter gone from the world.

And what a glorious morning! The sun had never been so bright, birds never sung so sweet, children's voices never echoed with so much laughter. Soft breezes buffeted about, lofting limbs of trees laden with fall's first fruits. It was an inheritance, a great gift given to the world by some unknown god or blushing goddess of pure heart and gentle spirit. Myrrhine nursed the babies who basked in this afterglow and was nourished herself by the innocent faces pressed against her flesh.

Later, Myrrhine busied herself preparing for the Amphidromia, the ceremony where she'd officially name the children and accept them into the family. The babes would be five days old tomorrow.

By afternoon, the slaves completed rebuilding the roof over one of the chambers in her burned-out home, so she moved there from the smith's quarters, glad to be back in the arms of Eumolpid soil, although it reeked of smoke. She relit the hearth fire in the center of the courtyard, obtaining a new flame from that brought from Delphi, and sacrificed while praying to Hestia, divine mistress of eternal fire. Myrrhine prayed that Hestia restore the family of the Hierophant, "though the father of this flame is imprisoned far across the Aegean." She stood the Hierophant's staff against the fireplace as a symbol of his presence.

Ordinarily, the rest of the family would have been invited to the Amphidromia, but she'd alienated Aeschylus and Hipparete and felt relieved to have the children to herself. That evening, she stacked enough wood on the fire to create a sizeable blaze and sacrificed a swine before the hearth, calling first on Kynegeiros, then divine Demeter and Kore to renew their presence in the home and see to the welfare of the children. She burned, then ground an anklebone from the swine together with a snail. She then unwrapped the swaddling cloths of each child and pulled off the withered umbilical cords, revealing the pink, blood-speckled navels. She molded the thick mixture into two spinning whorls and pressed one into each umbilicus cavity.

She stripped herself and the babes naked and lofted each over her head while running round the fire singing aloud the child's name. Then she held each over the flame as closely as was safe, though they screamed and squalled at the heat, to burn away the pollution of birth.

As she finished rewrapping the swaddling bandages, smelling the fragrant fumes of roast pork on the kitchen fire where she prepared her own feast, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and jumped at Aeschylus' dark form lurking in the shadows.

She stepped between him and the children as he advanced, his dark figure laced with firelight.

"You've performed the Amphidromia without a man officiating?" he asked.

"In the name of the Hierophant."

"He's dead. You and your offspring belong to me."

"He lives. He was taken by the Persians to Sardis. Melaina said as much, even returned with his staff she found on Mykale's far shore. Anaktoria and her mother confirm this."

"A fanciful tale. I saw him die. You found his charred bones here in the Telesterion and buried them yourself."

Myrrhine knew arguing this was futile. "Still, the Amphidromia is finished. I'm Melaina's mother, her children are more mine than yours."

"No true mother exists. Women but incubate men's live seed. Men are the only true begetters, the progenitors of life. Kynegeiros was her only sire."

"A lie! You don't even believe that yourself. This is but Cyclops vision, one-eyed wisdom."

"Melaina was my ward. I'll determine her offspring's fate."

"If you take the children for fathering, I realize that I can't stop you."

"They're not to be raised. Both are polluted. They are but lifeless phantoms and not worth carrying around the hearth."

"You can't believe that. Melaina's epilepsy wasn't something she could pass to them. Why are you doing this? What are you not saying?"

"You'll expose them on Kithaeron's slopes."

"They're healthy. It would be murder." She walked to them, loosened their swaddling clothes. "See for yourself. When I put them upon the earth, they cry with reasonable vigor, not weakly as they would with an unfavorable condition. They're perfect in all members and senses, orifices free from obstruction. Every function is natural, neither sluggish nor weak. The joints bend and stretch, have no undue size or shape. Come here, Lord Aeschylus," she begged, "press a finger against the surface of the body or prick it. See that they suffer pain. These are the ways the ancients taught to determine an infant's worthiness."

"True, but you give only half a method. The ancients also taught that the mother should spend her pregnancy in good health, for sickness also harms the fetus and enfeebles the foundations of life. Melaina suffered a killing epilepsy. Second, they should be born in due time, best at nine months. These two came at eight. An obvious show of weakness. Further, the mother should not overly exert herself. Melaina was beaten and jostled about during the crucial late months. Kallias tells that she wielded the blow that saved his life at Mykale. She witnessed the horrors of the battle's aftermath. No telling the insanity that could produce in the unborn."

"That they survived at all and remain healthy shows their strength, not weakness. Some believe they're divine. The priest of Asklepios at Epidaurus was certain of it. To expose a divine child, two of them, would provoke the wrath of Zeus himself."

"You think this is easy for me.?These are my brother's grandchildren; the male child, his heir. I've affection for them you can't guess. My grief is tenfold yours. I'll hear no more. Expose them."

"But dear Aeschylus, I see now your crossways attitude toward the children is because of my ill manners during Melaina's funeral. Please forgive me. Don't inflict punishment rightfully mine upon the newborn."

"I've spoken. Do my bidding. I rule here."

"Please, hear just this final word. The Mysteries must be reinstated. These children are the only direct descendants of Eumolpus. The male is the only legitimate heir to be Hierophant, the daughter the only one to replace me as priestess of Demeter. All Hellas hangs in the balance. See the wrong of exposing them, Lord Aeschylus. This decision cannot stand. Rule by choosing to be overruled."

"This is but idle chatter. The Mysteries haven't been held for two years, and during this time, we've repulsed the world's mightiest army."

"Dear brother of my beloved Kynegeiros, don't throw away your own sibling's grandchildren. Look!" Myrrhine threw back her wrap to expose her breasts. "The goddess gave me milk. See! My breasts swell with nourishment for the babes. Never did I even think it possible except for a goddess. Hera's milk returned to feed the infant Herakles."

Aeschylus didn't look at her breasts, but turned his back and walked off. "You'll have until tomorrow evening. Give them to a slave to expose on Kithaeron. I warn you. If you try to escape, I'll have all three of you put to the sword."

That night Myrrhine went to bed but couldn't sleep, her grip on the babies so tight that she worried she'd crush them. Many were the names of ancient heroes who'd survived being exposed on Kithaeron's shady slopes. Oedipus had survived to unwittingly kill his father and marry his mother. And Herakles, Greece's greatest hero. Paris, who kidnapped Helen and caused the Trojan War, had been exposed on Mt. Ida.

She cried through the night, getting no sleep, but by morning had a plan. She'd give the children to Kallias. As Dadouchos, he'd understand. She hated to see them become Kerykes, but if it would save their lives, she'd do it. One day they'd be the Hierophant and Priestess of Demeter. Having the sacred officials within the Kerykes had been his one desire. Would he know about the horses? Oh how she wished she'd not been so venomous over Melaina's burial.

*

Kallias was defensive at first. His guilt over not allowing Melaina to be buried within his family plot showed. His shoulders sagged, and he had no spring to his gait. Still, Myrrhine couldn't help but wonder if part of it was caused by sadness over the death of Melaina. He spoke to Myrrhine while shouting to his slaves where to look for his horses.

Myrrhine spoke words of sympathy over their disappearance.

"Ah! We'll find them," he said. "I've a list of those who most coveted them for the Olympic games. They'll not be gone long."

Then Myrrhine approached him about the children. "Please, Lord Kallias," she said. "It would be a crime against the Mysteries, Demeter herself, to allow the children to be exposed."

"The loss will be unfelt," he said, a great arrogance seeming to come opon him. "The two sacred offices can be filled from within my family, the Kerykes."

"You can't be serious. The Hierophant and priestess of Demeter have come from the Eumolpids since Demeter herself initiated the Mysteries."

"That's of little concern. I can't take the children. I'm to be married."

"Again? So soon after Melaina's death? It would be unseemly."

"My marriage to Melaina was never consummated because she was pregnant. The marriage was never official."

"Kallias, you're my last hope. Aeschylus orders that they be exposed."

"Elpinice would never agree. We'll have our own children."

"Elpinice? Kimon's sister? Surely this can't be! Elpinice has been cohabiting with her brother in a shameful union. Every woman in Hellas has words of their filth on her tongue. She's even been over-intimate with Polygnotus, the painter. This will cast a shadow on the Mysteries. After all, you are the Dadouchos."

Kallias backed up and motioned Myrrhine away with a sweep of his hand. "She's been living with her brother due to poverty. She has no dowry. Until now, that has excluded her from a suitable match. I'm also to pay her father's fine, which cost him his life. He died recently in debtor's prison."

"But Kallias, have pity! Save these innocent lives."

"I'll hear no more. You've become abusive of late. Out with you!" He turned his back to her.

"I know you have Melaina's dowry. I'll expect it back."

Kallias didn't respond.

Myrrhine turned on him, her voice reeking vengeance. "I've always thought stories of you getting your wealth by theft and murder at Marathon were lies, but be they true or false, Kallias, you touch so much as one obol of Melaina's dowry, I'll slip you hemlock."

Myrrhine then walked to the toppled icons of Demeter and Kore outside the ashes of the Telesterion. "Dear goddesses, soften someone's heart toward the babes. Deliver them from cruel death on Kithaeron."

She carried them about Eleusis' ruins, searching for she knew not what. She spotted a horse coming along the Sacred Way, a lone rider slumped over its mane. It was young Sophocles riding a pony. As he came near, she realized that he didn't recognize her. With her long chiton, Myrrhine felt as though she didn't walk but glided upon the earth, as would a wraith soon meant for the Undergloom. Her hair, which she'd chopped short before the funeral, had turned solid silver in the last five days. She'd lost so much weight that her cheekbones pushed beneath the skin. Her face was skeletal and scabbed from the clotted mourning lacerations.

"Young Sophocles," she said, "please recognize me. I'm Melaina's mother although I've changed so in but these few days. All the desperate forces of the universe have sent you to me."

Sophocles dismounted and stood beside the pony, reins in his hand. Myrrhine knew he too had been grieving. "You're right, I didn't recognize you," he said. "But I've also been decimated by Melaina's death. How little compassion the gods have for such suffering. Her demise is shameful for them and pitiful for us."

"Oh noble Sophocles, how welcome are your words for Melaina. I'd thought the whole world abandoned her memory."

"No more honorable one has ever been than she. But please, I'm anxious to continue my journey. Make your plea, and if it's within my power, I'll grant it."

"Aeschylus speaks death for the children."

"How could anyone choose that, unless fiends had made his mind witless? Did he give a reason?"

"Pollution from epilepsy. But some other devious calculation lies behind it, I'm sure. Just realize, he means the death of them."

"I know you speak the truth because I've wondered myself why, when they were hardly out of the womb, Aeschylus unleashed a campaign against them. He prevented me from attending Melaina's funeral. I can't imagine what has hardened him so."

"Dear Sophocles, Melaina held you in highest esteem. Would you take them, save them from an evil fate?"

"I'm on my way to Delphi on an urgent mission for my father, but I believe these children are destined to fulfill a design of the gods. They may not be divine as some think, but I'll do what I can. Even so, I can only find a safe place for the male child. You'll have to find another for the female."

Myrrhine felt doomed. She'd not thought of splitting them up. Surely they should be raised together. "Alright," she said, feeling as if the words came from another's mouth. "Take little Zakorus. I'll find another savior for Theonoë."

"I'll do one further thing to keep Aeschylus off their trail. When I return I'll tell him you gave both to me and that I exposed them. The lie will ease his mind and set his conscience to worry. But you must get the little girl out of Eleusis. If he hears of her again, surely it'll mean her death."

"Oh gallant Sophocles, ever I'll be indebted. May the gods watch over you always."

"I greatly esteemed your daughter. Sweetest maiden I've known in my short life. Even in legends such valor was only found in Antigone, daughter of Oedipus. I'm off now, but beware! Aeschylus lurks about. I saw him talking to Kallias."

Sophocles mounted his pony, and Myrrhine handed up the male child with the papyrus Melaina had written for him safely tucked within his wrappings. Overwhelming grief stopped her. She pulled back little Zakorus. He'd voiced a sweet noise, and the stark reality of his impending departure overcame her. She summoned more courage than she thought possible, realizing that the child's life depended on her giving him up.

Myrrhine took a deep breath and passed the child up to Sophocles, again. The pony, with Sophocles astride him and the babe cradled in his arms, disappeared into the failing light, leaving Myrrhine with the emptiness of the child's absence. She hugged little Theonoë. "Girls are worth so little in this world," she said. "Who can I find willing to give you love and shelter?"

Myrrhine walked to the blacksmith's shop as if blown by some holy wind. There, she stood amid hammers clanging hot metal, smelled the sweet easy sweat of men at heavy work. Akmon and Damnameneus seemed golden spirits of providence since they'd become her partners in crime. Finally, Palaemon noticed her.

"I've come for another miracle," she said. "I need you to save Melaina's daughter."

The smith looked older than his years, his deformity overpowering. "Oh, priestess, surely another's help would be more suitable. What's an old cripple to offer a child?"

Myrrhine knelt before him, tears streaming her scab-scarred cheeks. "I come to you as a suppliant. Never have I been more desperate. O dear Palaemon! I found a savior for the boy, but you are the little girl's last hope. She's been ordered abandoned to Kithaeron's cold slopes on penalty of both our deaths. Take her and flee, to what destination I know not, nor care. Just fly far from Eleusis so that her enemies never cast eyes on her sweet face."

The smith took her by the shoulders and raised her to her feet. "What can I possibly offer that another, any other, can't duplicate manyfold?"

"Life itself. For only in your arms will she find safety. I've tried all others and feel ashamed for not coming to you first."

"What a terrible fate then is hers. Of course I'll do it, since you know it's no mistake to put the child in my care."

"Will it be such a burden to help the little one?"

"You've given me a joy such as I've never dreamed. My life has always been lacking. Not only will I do it for sake of moral virtue but also from deep sympathy for this child. Already, I love her more than life itself. I've been thinking of returning to Ionia since the Persians have been driven out. Eleusis is in such a desolate state. I hear they'll not rebuild the Telesterion. Never fear, I'll care for the infant as if she were my own."

Myrrhine looked straight at him, squeezed his callused hands in hers. "No! Not 'as if.' She must never be brought back here. She's yours! Henceforth, you are her father." She sat the bundle in his arms and fled, fled from her own weakness, knowing one look at the little girl or one small sound from her could overcome her resolve.

On her way home, Myrrhine saw in the street a girl who reminded her of Melaina. She chased but lost sight of her, then broke into tears, ran again, only to collide with Aeschylus. His large form, reeking of body odor, took hold of her, shook her.

He shouted at her, "Kallias tells me you tried to convince him to take the children. You went against my word as soon as my back was turned."

Myrrhine felt her body quake, shiver with cold. "Kallias had to be told of the twins' fate. When he married Melaina, he said he'd be their father. I could have died at his hand if I'd exposed them without telling him. But he rejected them also, so I've done as both you bid. Young Sophocles is on his way to Delphi by way of Kithaeron and has agreed to expose them. Ask upon his return, if you don't believe me."

He gave her a stern look and still held her by the shoulders, as if he'd like to shake her brains out. "Exposing them will end Kallias' claim to them and put your precious Mysteries back in the hands of Eumolpids. Eleusis will keep its power structure, and all I've done will be erased. Let this be the end of it. The stain of epilepsy will also die with them."

"In doing so, you'll slay me too. Go ahead, kill me if that's your desire," she said. "You've already murdered my soul."

When he was gone, Myrrhine sensed still more strongly her daughter's presence. Finally, she spoke aloud, "Ah me, what can I do bereft of thee?" and returned home.

*

The next day, Myrrhine visited her daughter's grave, then again on the ninth and thirteenth days to pour a libation and say a prayer. Thereafter, she returned each month until the Genesia year was up. She had developed a wicked insomnia and took to walking at night, a homeless, dislodged spirit seen hovering along the roadways and footpaths of Eleusis.

Then one day, Myrrhine said goodbye, calling upon the hills, meadows and sea beating in the bay where her daughter had so often walked. "Farewell, land of Eleusis," she said. "Waft upon me a peaceful silence that my own will dissolve and I submit to this grim fate the gods have dealt me."

She doused the family hearth fire.

Some said the priestess of Demeter entered the sacred grotto and descended to Hades. Others believed they saw her return each year on the anniversary of Melaina's death to carry a pale torch about the gravesite. Many who passed it late at night heard crying and great lament but saw no one. Mention of Melaina's exploits was forbidden since it was unseemly to speak of women in public, but she lived in people's hearts and private whispers. Many believed that the mother and daughter had been Demeter and Persephone returned to Earth to save Greece. They had spent what time it took and departed.

CHAPTER 43: Xerxes' Bridge Cables

Following the victory at Mykale, and after Melaina and Kallias had departed, the Greek fleet sailed north along the coast of Asia, past Ephesus to the Hellespont where Xerxes had crossed over into Europe a year and a half before. Hard-set they were upon destroying the bridges Xerxes had built of biremes, triremes, papyrus and flax cables. When they arrived, they found that the strong-hearted brothers Boreas and Zephyrus had already demolished the bridges. The rest of the Greek fleet, including the Spartans, returned home, but the Athenians under Xanthippus made port on the Chersonese, where they laid siege to Sestos, the most heavily fortified town in the district. Refugees had fled there and taken the bridge cables with them. The town was still under the command of Xerxes' governor, Artayctes.

When the siege dragged on into the bad-weather months, the occupants of Sestos resorted to boiling their leather bed straps for nourishment. Finally, Artayctes and the rest of the Persians, who'd held the district under their yoke, fled, and the Greek residents opened the gates. Artayctes and his son were captured and brought back to Sestos, where Artayctes offered to pay two hundred talents for his life. But Xanthippus and the locals were in no mood for reconciliation. They dragged him to the spit where Xerxes had winched the bridges.

That cold day in the fall of the year, clever, corrupt Artayctes begged not for his own life as they nailed him to a plank and lofted him high into the air, but for that of his son whom they also brought forward. Not content with the crucified man's physical suffering, they stoned his son before his eyes.

The Athenians then sailed home with the bridge cables Xerxes had used to span the Hellespont. The Persian invasion was over. Xanthippus had indeed survived to raise his son, as Melaina had promised. The child's name was Perikles.

*

After his retreat from Greece following the battle of Salamis, Xerxes had spent the past year at Sardis, where he fell in love with his brother's wife. Xerxes' own wife had the woman's tongue torn out, her breasts, nose, ears, and lips cut off and fed to the dogs. Xerxes' brother then tried to stir up a revolt against Xerxes but was caught and executed. A general decadence fell over his empire, and Xerxes himself eventually succumbed to an assassin.

### THE END

Here ends Volumes One and Two of _The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis_. Volume Three is titled _The Twice Born_ , which tells the story of the two outcast children who lead the struggle to reinstitute the Mysteries of Eleusis. That volume is in process and will be available at a later date. For updates, please check www.themysteriesofeleusis.com.

####

Also by David Sheppard:

### Oedipus on a Pale Horse

Journey through Greece in Search of a Personal Mythology

### Novelsmithing

The Structural Foundation of Plot, Character, and Narration

Introduction to Frankenstein

Origins and Aftermath

### The Eternal Return

Oedipus, The Tempest, Forbidden Planet

### The Escape of Bobby Ray Hammer

A Novel of a 50s Family
