CHAPTER 15: The Isthmus of Corinth
When Melaina, Myrrhine and the rest of the women from Eleusis reached the dock for the boat ride home, Aeschylus and Kallias came to them again. The men were dressed in fresh white chitons with their himations draped over their shoulders leaving the torso bare, ends thrown back over the shoulder. Kallias had restrained his mass of black hair with a bright-green strophion.
Aeschylus told mother and daughter, "The War Council will hold an awards ceremony at the Isthmus. You two are requested to participate in the women's chorus."
Melaina was sorely disappointed. She'd spent so little time at Eleusis during the last year and felt like an exile, forever on the run. The epilepsy had escalated her growing sense of insecurity. She wanted to see her grandfather and hear the ring of the blacksmith's hammer.
Aeschylus added, "We're to award prizes for valor in battle."
Melaina laughed. "What better way to contaminate victory than with jealousy and malice." No sooner had she spoken than she regretted it, would have swatted the winged words from the air like mosquitoes, but they were already out biting ears.
Aeschylus' powerful, hair-framed face turned red. Melaina saw him struggle, lips working to voice some deadly admonition against her, but he fell silent. He turned to Kallias, "Why bother with insolent youth."
Melaina breathed a sigh of relief. She'd better watch her tongue. Never had she known her words to come so quickly, so thoughtlessly. Perhaps it was the epilepsy.
The men led the two women to a great battleship, a trireme standing before the docks like a sleek leviathan riding proudly above the waterline. It was so long, seemed to Melaina it stretched on forever. Her first excursion, aboard the boat to Salamis, had whetted her appetite for the sea. That'd been a merchant ship and, although a crew sat at the oars, was chiefly powered by sail. The trireme was a warship and propelled through the rough Aegean by one hundred and seventy oars. It rarely unfurled a sail. A raised deck ran the length of the ship, leaving the sides open for near-naked oarsmen on cushioned benches. Down the center, ten hoplite warriors wearing breastplates, helmets, and greaves, took up position, some standing while others knelt. They had swords strapped to their belts and carried spears and axes. Four Cretan archers with long bows and arrow-stuffed quivers stood alongside them. Seeing the deck stained black from battle blood, Melaina took a deep breath and forgot about returning to Eleusis.
Standing amongst the warriors was Xanthippus, the quiet man she'd seen at Phlya on the way back from Brauron, the man Kimon hated. Though she understood Kimon's anger, Xanthippus' short, stout frame and quiet but firm bearing, gave her a sense of security she gained from no other.
Xanthippus noticed the women and came forward.
Melaina dropped her eyes.
"Welcome," he said to both women, but turned to Melaina. "Never have I heard such a prayer as you gave the night before battle." He returned to his station by the helm.
Melaina overlooked this scene from her position on the elevated stern, the poop deck, glowing from Xanthippus' compliment. She felt at one with these men and met the eyes of warriors and oarsmen alike as they followed her every move. At a shout from Xanthippus, they pushed off and the aulete stamped his foot thrice, tooted on his twin pipes to sync the oarsmen. Melaina realized Xanthippus was the commander of this magnificent vessel, the captain.
Melaina loved the trireme immediately, loved the creak and groan of straining timbers, loved the sweaty smell of laboring men, their mumbles, light curses. Melaina felt the warship's wild energy, the power that could disembowel any vessel afloat. She heard the incessant grating of oars on tholepins, the threshing of seawater. What a mass of masculinity was housed within the motherly hull. She was reminded of her father and felt closer to him. He'd died a hoplite. She remembered her vision of him, his severed hand, and thought once more of her promise to him.
As oars foamed saltwater, Melaina and her mother stood astern with Aeschylus and Kallias by the huge steering paddles that swung at the vessel's sides. The helmsman touched now on one, then the other, to correct course. But her mother shrunk back behind Aeschylus and cast her eyes downward upon deck. She spoke to him, "Why have you brought us aboard a war vessel? Surely our presence here is forbidden."
"Rumors of Persian patrols," he said. "Xanthippus arranged it. Travel by land to the Isthmus is no longer possible. The Scironian Road was destroyed to keep Persians out of the Peloponnese."
At the forecastle standing alongside the bow officer, Melaina saw a thin form gazing off into the emerald water swiftly flowing toward them. This was young Sophocles, pensive, brooding. She wondered anew about his agony.
Melaina talked her uncle into taking her forward, "to see the deadly ram." Aeschylus balked, obviously concerned at parading her amongst the men, but her mother protested also, and that seemed to change his mind. Melaina wondered about this. She'd noticed a growing discontent between the two of them. Her mother always kept her distance when they spoke.
As Melaina and her uncle walked amongst the warriors to the prow, each armed man rose, gave ground. Melaina couldn't help smiling. When they reached the forecastle, fenced in by a solid parapet, Sophocles became aware of their presence and turned away, but not before Melaina caught a glimpse of his sad face, tear-filled eyes. He's suffered a tragedy, she thought, and wondered if someone close to him had fallen in battle.
A fine spray of saltwater chilled her cheeks as she peered over the edge at the great, two-pronged bronze ram protruding from the massive bow. The ram peeled the sea aside in thin transparent sheets. She wondered how many enemy hulls the ram had penetrated, how many men it had sent to their deaths? She understood why they named ships after goddesses, for this was indeed a divine being.
Melaina remained silent, and returned to the poop deck, not wanting to overextend her liberty. On the way, she noticed her mother standing at the railing next to Kallias—again witnessed her mother's interest in him—and thought what a striking couple they made. Kallias himself was as yet unmarried, and at thirty, highly ripe for it.
Because of the strong headwind, they'd not arrive until evening. The crew rowed eagerly over the depths of sea, the bay on the left, craggy shoreline to the right, passed the southern tip of Salamis, and sailed due east for the Isthmus of Corinth. Mid-afternoon, some of the men stowed their oars and broke out rations. As the sweet smell of yeast and honey swept past, Melaina watched them eating garlic, olives, grapes, barley biscuits. The boatswain brought Melaina and her mother a basket of wheat loaves, goat cheese, and chopped asphodel to eat with figs. They passed a wineskin around, and Melaina thirsted greedily at it. Soon, she felt a great urge to mix amongst the men, but restrained herself.
Her mother dragged Melaina below deck to a small compartment, where they spent their time stumbling among anchors and mooring lines. The trireme wasn't equipped for passengers. From this vantage point, Melaina watched the three banks of tireless oarsmen above while snacking on poppy-seed bread. The creak of ship's timbers seemed an ancient tongue. The men sweated streams from their brows and backs. Their eyes rolled askance while breaths came in hot gasps. All afternoon they toiled, stroke after stroke, dragging the oars through the sea.
That evening as they approached the harbor, distant shouts brought mother and daughter topside again. Melaina pointed into the dark toward a line of torches stretching away from shore.
"Diolkos," said her mother. She'd been at the Isthmus several times. "We've arrived."
"What are they doing?"
"It's a great commercial center. Ships from all over the Aegean come here, unload their cargo into cars to be pulled across the Isthmus along a stone-paved portage, the diolkos, to the waters of the Corinthian Gulf. There the cargo is reloaded into ships headed for Delphi, Patras, or towns as far away as Brentesion in Italy."
"What's that?" asked Melaina, pointing to another line of torches running parallel up the slope west of the diolkos.
"I've never seen it before. Must be the defensive
wall the Spartans built. That's where we're headed, just beyond to the temple of Poseidon."
The ship glided through smooth water and into the cove, where other vessels crowded to the docks serving the diolkos. They slipped into a space left open for the trireme, then stilled and secured the oars. Melaina and Myrrhine were the first to leave the ship, escorted by Xanthippus, with Aeschylus and Kallias close behind. Sophocles trudged past and on up the slope by himself, a lonely looking soul with his arms pulled about his body.
On land, they were met by a group of men and welcomed by Kimon, Kallias' friend whom they'd met on the road back from Brauron. Melaina had seen Kimon at Phlya in Kleito's home. He was younger than Kallias and handsome as any man Melaina had ever seen, tall and large, thick curly hair falling to his shoulders. He gave Xanthippus a wide berth, but when he saw the two women, he roared with laughter, sending up great clouds of wine-smelling breath. He was so infatuated with Melaina that he kept pawing her.
Kallias pushed him away. "Control yourself, Kimon," he implored. "Be civilized!"
"But she's Kynegeiros' daughter! I remember him when I was a child. My poor dead father spoke well of him at Marathon. How can I not be in love with her?" Melaina's father, as well as the rest of the men she was with, had served under Miltiades, Kimon's father.
"Your affection is infested with Bacchus' spirit and will turn to regret tomorrow. Your problem is you drink frog-fashion, never eating anything. She's a priestess, not a flute girl."
Kimon looked greatly ashamed. "Acting a fool among sacred company, am I? You take them then, Kallias, and you also Aeschylus. I'll walk with someone who can make me behave myself." He spoke in great gusts of breath that filled the space around them with wine fog.
His pawing, the monstrous hot hands, gentle and kind on her arm, didn't offend Melaina, but she did resent Kallias assuming the role of her protector. What affection she couldn't deflect, her Uncle Aeschylus could save her from.
They walked the slope to the sacred glen, entered the temple of Poseidon through a line of stately pines, and passed statues of the Isthmian Games victors. The temple precinct was small and surrounded by stone, the northern side forming part of the now-infamous military wall, a great makeshift structure of sand, brick and timber, reinforced by strategically spaced towers. It swarmed with warriors. Poseidon's columned temple was no taller than the trees, and two Poseidons stood out front alongside a statue of the sea goddess Amphitrite, Poseidon's divine wife. The god's children were worked on the plinth, since they, too, were saviors of ships and men at sea. A rowdy horde of warriors packed a nearby theatre and an adjacent white-stoned stadium.
The men joined the feast, while the two women were taken inside the temple. Melaina and her mother stopped before a great marble basin resting on a ring and supported by four stone women, each standing on a lion's back. Female servants brought pitchers and tipped holy water for their hands into a silver bowl. Others filled the wine bowls and poured a fresh cup for each. A larder mistress brought a tray of honeyed loaves for their bedtime repast. Against a far wall, a hearth-fire burned, and Melaina and her mother sent a shower of wine over the flames, crumbled a loaf into the coals, drank deep, and spoke a prayer to the great bearded god in whose temple they would spend the night.
The priestesses and servants disappeared down an echoing hall to their quarters. Handmaids brought blankets and deep-piled rugs, and they went to bed wondering what morning would bring.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 29