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 h
illside, 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.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 24