*
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."
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 23