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 fr
om 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?
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 4