*
Palaemon was just returning from the smelter, shuffling into his shop as Melaina entered. She stood watching as he and his two servants, Akmon and Damnameneus, stacked heavy ingots of bronze, iron, and lead in the storeroom. Smaller ones, of silver and gold, he stored in the chest within his living quarters. Melaina cornered him there.
"The brooch you gave me for use against arrogance is troubling," she said. She heard his two giant workmen singing wordless hymns, melodies strangely warbled as if by ancient Orpheus.
The smith laughed melodiously while tightening the strap securing his leather apron. "As it should be."
"Is not the love of freedom itself a great arrogance?"
"So some would say."
"Then is not all Hellas at risk?"
"Only the desire to be free of the gods' will is forbidden. To be free of another mortal's suppression, I think not. Thinking yourself better than your fellow mortals is an arrogance that corrects itself."
"I've noticed it infecting the great general Themistocles."
"Ah, it's easiest to detect in others, but obscure within."
"What about women?"
"I'm but a crippled smith, the legs of my arrogance broken in the womb. I'm not a philosopher and ill-suited for all these questions. I'm afraid you've outgrown me."
Melaina took a deep breath, looked down at her hands and so saw his withered legs. Never had she felt so close to him. They both had their defects. Few others would ever understand. "The gods marked me early also," she said, "but it didn't stifle my arrogance." She thought about what she was going to tell him, her mother's caution. But she'd never believed in Kleito's cure anyway. "I'm epileptic."
Palaemon stopped fidgeting with his metals. "How could this be, child? Are you sure?"
"Mother says I've had seizures since father died. They've always been during sleep, but recently they've waylaid me no matter the circumstance."
"The purest metal comes from the hottest fire."
Melaina thought this comment curious. "I experience a great euphoria with it, but can tell it's wearing on me. No one else at Eleusis knows this but my mother."
"Your secret is safe. I…" Something seemed to gripped him. He came toward her, staggered, seemed to stumble, or was it just his awkwardness? She was within his arms, and at first she thought he'd grabbed her while falling, then realized he was hugging her. He'd never touched her before. What a great comfort she felt in those sooty arms, prickly wool like rose thorns on his massive chest. She wondered if this was a father's love.
After they finished talking, Melaina stayed awhile, and he joined his two slaves at the bellows. Gigantic men they were, groaning, hovering over the crippled blacksmith and around a molten mass. She heard the din of anvils, and loved it, the great blast of the bellows. The men hefted heavy hammers far above their heads and smote rhythmic blows on glowing iron. The furnace fire in Palaemon's eyes gleamed like jewels.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 36