by Laura Gill
We completed another circuit of the hearth; there was no other way to move about the megaron. The stuccoed floor had been partitioned into tiles, some plain, others colorfully painted with patterns of spirals, waves, and checks that we took care to avoid; it was a dance we did, negotiating the sacred space. Ariston did not need to watch where he was going, whereas I, having to constantly watch my steps, found myself at a loss.
“There...has been violence,” he reluctantly admitted. “Skirmishes on the road between Livadi and here.”
“And you never thought to tell me?” I stopped beside a square painted with stylized, zigzag thunderbolts. “From now on, you’re not to keep anything from me, no matter how terrible. You don’t understand. The villagers of Pelargos are my neighbors and my friends. They took me in when I was defenseless and terrified. They kept my secrets and honored Zeus of the Strangers.” Something more needed to be said. “Thank you for doing the same, despite the danger. I do not mean to be a burden to you.”
Ariston maintained a neutral expression as we continued walking. “You are not a burden to us, Lady.”
Leaving the megaron, we entered the dim corridor. “I hope you never have cause to regret those words.” We came to the door of my antechamber, but when Ariston started to bid me farewell, I stopped him. “If the herald comes again, I must be there to receive his message. Wake me, drag me from the loom, do whatever you have to do, but I must be there. You do me no favors by keeping this from me. I might not be able to be in Pelargos with my friends and neighbors, but I am with them in spirit.”
Ariston frown told me he missed the point. “You are a consort of Zeus who should not be subjected to terrors.”
I sighed heavily. “I am not a delicate flower, High Priest, so please do not mistake me for one. Did the herald tell you when he would return?” How long did I have before Polydektes started ordering executions?
“In less than a week, Lady, but you should not distress yourself.” Ariston raised both hands to forestall my protest. “There is no guarantee that there will not be blood. King Magnes used to impale criminals’ heads on spikes and parade them all over the island. Of course, I do not think Polydektes would dare order such grisly trophies brought before Zeus, but you should not have to be subjected to such atrocities.”
“No,” I said slowly, swallowing my innate revulsion, “I should witness his crimes against my neighbors and friends, not shut myself away from them. I told you before, Ariston, I am not a delicate flower.”
*~*~*~*
The herald from Chora returned four days later. A priest hastened to my door to give warning. “Lady, he comes alone, and the high priest has ordered the sanctuary emptied to make sure there are no soldiers hidden among the worshippers.”
I set aside my spindle; the day was overcast, the light too poor to allow much work at the loom. “Give me a moment to refresh myself.” I self-consciously touched a hand to my careless braid. “Have Ariston ask the herald to wait in the vestibule. I will come to the altar shortly.”
I dressed in the finest of the clothes the priests’ wives had brought, and found my way to the megaron where Ariston awaited me. My nerves were a riot of uncertainty, even after I reached the altar and grasped the stone surface with both hands. I breathed deeply, straightened my posture, and said, “Do not keep the herald waiting.”
Samos drew aside the curtain and called the herald from the vestibule. By the time he entered and made his way to the altar, I had settled myself like a queen: chin high, back straight, and ready to speak. “I am Dorea of Pelargos and Danaë, daughter of Acrisius, and on this altar, sacred to almighty Zeus, I claim sanctuary.”
“Princess.” The herald, Keratios, inclined his head. He was a robust man, taller than I, deeply tanned with a scraggly, liberally salted beard. “King Polydektes extends his most gracious invitation for you to join him in the palace at Chora.”
“Invitation? Those are not the words you used with High Priest Ariston the other day, when you spoke of killings in Pelargos.” I had spent hours rehearsing my speech, but my words and demeanor now seemed to me woefully inadequate, as though I were merely playacting. Nonetheless, I could not betray myself as uncertain. “Is this well done of your king, to menace his own law-abiding subjects over one woman?”
Keratios appeared honestly abashed. “Lady, this has nothing to do with you. The villagers of Pelargos are in rebellion.”
I did not believe him for a moment. If this had nothing to do with me, then why had Polydektes bothered to send his herald? “What does the king expect when his subjects have endured such abuse, when they are innocent of wrongdoing? None of the villagers aided or abetted my flight. Only Prince Diktys assisted me.”
Keratios recovered his aplomb. “Lady, you are much mistaken. There have been skirmishes everywhere between here and Livadi. It is no longer safe to travel. Why, I myself have had to double my escort.” He spread his hands. “Heed my words. The king grants you this one last chance to end this unrest.”
“So he burdens me with the guilt, does he? And he thinks this will bind me to him?” Just like Polydektes to twist things around, and yet, it heightened feelings that already kept me awake at night. “Shameless! Tell your master that a king worthy of the scepter does not crush his loyal subjects with burdensome tithes and threats of violence. He inspires them by being a true shepherd of the people. Polydektes should take that advice to heart, and not pursue those who have given him no cause for a quarrel.”
Keratios stared open-mouthed at me. He must have thought I would cry and cling to the altar, claiming sanctuary like a terrified woman. However, I did not think my words so awe-inspiring. I was attempting to be diplomatic, where I knew that I was gambling with the lives of those I held dearest, and where my slightest fumble might mean their deaths.
Then the herald, recovering his composure, replied, “I will pass your message to the king, Lady, though I cannot guarantee he will heed you.” He bowed low, far more deeply than custom required, especially for a woman, and exited. I felt no sense of triumph at the honor he accorded me, or faith in Polydektes’ gentler instincts, only the terrible weight of the burden now on my shoulders.
*~*~*~*
The herald’s visit drew the attention of the townspeople, which brought unintended consequences. The lord of Ganema sent ten oxen to the altar of Zeus in my name, and sent his wife and daughters with presents: rich clothing, scented oil, and jewels in an ivory casket. I welcomed the prospect of female company again, until other noblewomen of the town started clamoring for an audience with the daughter of Acrisius, consort of almighty Zeus. It was too much. I had come to seek sanctuary, to hide from my enemies, not hold court like a queen.
Along with their gifts of brightly colored skeins of wool and linen, their proffered jars of home remedies, and homemade sweets, of which I did not partake, the noblewomen showered me with their indelicate questions.
“Is it true the gods speak to you?”
“In dreams, but then we all receive visitations from Morpheus.” An equivocal answer was better than none, or the truth, that the gods were simultaneously beautiful and terrifying and cold, and that I dreaded encountering them.
“Can you see the future?”
“I am not an oracle.”
“What is Zeus like as a lover?”
That these women would venture such a query in Zeus’s own domain rankled. Did they have no sense of decorum? “Ladies, you forget yourselves. Queen Hera sees and hears all.” I might as well have chided the North Wind; a few matrons nodded their agreement, but many more, like the oversexed crone who wore too much scent and who had laced herself into a Cretan-style bodice to better display her wrinkled cleavage, refused to take the hint. “But did you enjoy it?” she pressed.
At that, the matrons who agreed with my reminder of Hera’s presence shushed the old woman. “Hera will turn us all into cows if you don’t mind your tongue!”
That the ladies of Ganema saw nothing wrong in turning the
sanctuary of Zeus into a place for tawdry gossip filled me with trepidation when I myself felt increasingly uncomfortable imposing on the temenos. Neither Ariston nor the priests ever addressed the issue, and I was not ashamed of my body’s natural functions, but the god’s domain was no fit place for a woman to bleed. With nowhere else to withdraw, I did my best to keep both physically and ritually clean, while privately thanking the Mistress for her foresight in shortening my cycles and steering me along the path toward crone-hood. Zeus must not object, for he sent no sign, but the tribulations of womanhood as well as the sacrilegious behavior of the ladies continued to unnerve me.
What I could not do was withdraw and refuse to receive them, not when Ariston had impressed upon me the importance of currying favor among the nobility of Ganema. “They bend the knee to Polydektes, but many are secretly partial to Prince Diktys. You need them to be sympathetic, to make it difficult for the king.”
So I wore the finery the ladies of Ganema gave me and held court among the noblewomen and merchants’ wives, and at night floundered through mysterious dreams of a palace situated atop a giant mushroom, ladies with writhing serpents for hair, and, most distressing of all, a maiden chained naked to a rock beside the foaming sea.
*~*~*~*
Then the mood in Ganema changed, became restless, hostile, the static charge in the atmosphere obvious even to someone forbidden to venture out. Ariston informed me of scuffles in the marketplace between the king’s men and Diktys’s supporters. Diktys himself had left Pelargos for parts unknown, to deflect attention away from the villagers; men loyal to him watched the village to ensure that no mischief ensued. Both sides watched the sanctuary; their growing enmity resulted in the hurling of insults, and the reluctance of worshippers to bring their offerings. The noblewomen ceased their visits; their absence served only to heighten the strain of the escalating unrest. Sometimes I caught myself trembling with a powerful urge to march out onto the aithousa and shout at the opposing sides that their fighting was ridiculous, and to go home.
Some days Ariston closed the doors, declaring that Zeus deplored the violence. When that happened, they propitiated the god on the people’s behalf. Not content to sit idly by while others risked themselves for me, I asked the high priest whether I might somehow contribute to the worship. Not surprisingly, he demurred.
“Lady, we have no provision for including priestesses in our rituals.” Ariston’s brows beetled together in a deep frown. “I must consult with the other priests and ask the god’s permission.” He considered for a moment. “Although, as his consort, you might not need any special dispensation. Still, there is Hera’s displeasure to take into account.”
“One must always remember Hera,” I agreed. “I will dedicate special prayers to her, if she will receive them.”
Ariston betrayed a hint of bemusement at this. “Do you often pray to the Queen of Heaven?”
“Always.”
“Curious, and of course very wise of you.”
I propitiated the goddess with the best offering I could provide: a necklace given to me by Polydektes that I brought in case I should need to make a gift to Zeus or ransom myself. Then Ariston consulted the priests, who, despite my favored status and effort to appease Hera, remained wary. Finally, they allowed me to anoint the xoanon’s clay feet from the libations of wine, this a privilege reserved for the high priest that afforded him the closest proximity to the deity. Sometimes the priests let me sing the celebratory hymns with them, even though I had a lackluster singing voice and had to be taught the words.
Ketros the acolyte, weak-willed and petty, either stayed away on account of the threats or was compelled to by his family. His absence meant there was no one to draw water from the nearby well or sweep the sanctuary. Unable to volunteer for the first duty, I asked for the second, which Ariston refused me. “Finish your weaving, Lady. It is lovely work, and I am certain that this offering of your hands will please the god.”
When I returned to the loom, it seemed that my lamps burned more brightly than ever. The noblewomen’s presents of dyed wool enabled me to add rich blue and an earthy, autumnal russet. In addition, my wool basket was always full, the colors never running out. The work of the goddess of the loom. As such, Lady Athena received my prayers of thanks, while I strove to please her with my diligent work and determination not to let this manifestation of her favor rush to my head.
Eleven days passed in this manner. Keratios, carrying his herald’s staff, ascended to the aithousa every morning to reiterate his message that I should submit and come out. We spoke at a distance, he stationed at the door, I in the vestibule. “I have passed your message to King Polydektes, Lady, but he insists. You must leave the sanctuary and come with me to Chora. No harm will come to you, Lady. I guarantee safe conduct.”
“And can you guarantee the safety of the townspeople who have been forced to forego their devotions to Zeus because of the violence?” I answered. “And what about the villagers of Pelargos? Can you guarantee their peace and safety?”
To be fair, Keratios expressed sincere distress over the recent turmoil, and tried to explain, “Whatever twinges of conscience you may feel over your neighbors of Pelargos, whatever blood-guilt Polydektes thinks to burden you with, I should inform you that you bear none. You are but a pretext for these troubles. The sons of Magnes and their followers contend not over you, daughter of Argos. They struggle over the throne.”
That last statement struck me as incongruous. “Prince Diktys has never expressed any interest in becoming king.” Did that mean he had somehow cherished the notion in secret, beyond even his aunt’s knowledge?
“His messages to the king say that he feels compelled to act for the welfare of the people of Seriphos, that King Polydektes has shown himself to be impious and treacherous.” Keratios grimaced. “Understand that these are the prince’s words, not mine. My personal opinions and preferences have no bearing on this matter, except that I urge you to reconsider your position. By shutting the doors of the sanctuary, you and the priests of Zeus deny the people the privilege of worshipping the Lord of Heaven. Chora is much more secure, much more comfortable. The king gives his word that you will be treated generously, with all the honor due a princess of Argos. Please, Lady, take heed.” Keratios extended an entreating hand. “You need not subject yourself to any privations.”
“And if I wish to subject myself thus, for the sake of piety?” Keratios could not offer an explanation, nor did I give him the opportunity to devise one. “Prince Diktys is absolutely correct claiming that King Polydektes is impious and treacherous, and not merely for his betrayal of my son Eurymedon. I have not forgotten that he is a matricide, hounded by the Erinyes.”
I raised my arm and pointed. “Go back to Chora, Lord Keratios. Tell Polydektes that I refuse to submit to him without assurances and grievous oaths that the townspeople of Ganema and the villagers of Pelargos will come to no harm. Prince Diktys will stand down if the hostilities cease. I will submit. However, if Polydektes cannot or will not do even that much, then tell him to leave me alone. He has no legitimate reason to pursue me. I am under the protection of the Lord Most High. As proof, let him know that I have borne a son and yet remain a maiden.”
Keratios blanched, but made his obeisance and withdrew. The priests closed the doors to the sanctuary, even as Ariston came to my side to offer his support. “This war between brothers offends the god.”
I felt drained, angry, even suffered a measure of despair because even there, cloistered in the sanctuary, I could see that Keratios’s words were correct: I was a figurehead, a convenient pretext for a dynastic struggle. Possession of a royal woman meant the veneer of legitimacy. “I wish the gods in their mercy would spirit me away to some peaceful place. Let Polydektes and Diktys find some other excuse to quarrel, if they must quarrel at all.”
Ariston started to touch my arm, but seemed to think better of it and stopped just short of. “Is it true, Lady, what you told the herald?”
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br /> “About what?” The look on his face told me what his lips dared not. “Yes, High Priest, I am a maiden, thanks to the blessings of Queen Hera who healed my hurts after I was forced into the chest and thrown into the sea. You may not examine me, though, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I will allow only another woman to do that.”
He blanched still further. “Oh, no, Lady. I would not dare subject the mother of an immortal’s offspring to such an indignity.”
Better to drop the subject. “What can we do to stop this madness from spreading? I refuse to be used as an excuse for conflict.”
Ariston glanced away, back over his shoulder toward the altar. “I do not know. Priests are usually consulted in these matters, but as you see...” He spread his hands. “Polydektes has his own priests, who naturally will have told him what he wishes to hear. I am certain Diktys also has access to priests and sanctuaries. He would not risk returning here.”
I knotted my right hand into a fist, wishing then that swift Hermes would deposit both brothers before me so I could vent my spleen at them.
*~*~*~*
The manmade storm broke, fittingly enough, on a day of thunder and drizzle, and delivered the promised consequences straight to the sanctuary. Above the rumbling of Zeus’s displeasure, I heard the shouts for the priests to open the doors, for the daughter of Acrisius, the princess of Argos, to face the bloodshed she had wrought.
A hundred questions swirled in my mind as I dressed in the finest of the garments the ladies of Ganema had given me. Who had been killed? Diktys? Someone else? I fastened the embroidered girdle cinching in the green and russet-colored skirt, and donned a necklace of blue glass paste flowers before smoothing my hair. Silent prayers passed my lips. I had to breathe deeply and concentrate to fortify my courage.