*
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."
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 16