*
It was still pitch dark when Melaina and her mother arrived at the dock with her grandfather. With them, they brought two slaves, a married man and woman, who used switches to goad along a small herd of sacrificial animals: goats, sheep and pigs. The man also dragged a wagon of caged cocks, all with legs tied to keep them from fighting. In the dim torchlight, Melaina could barely make out the ship's crew, hard at work hauling at the forestays to raise the mast from its crutch and set it in the tabernacle. This was a merchant sailing ship with rounded swooping lines, none of the linear sleekness of a trireme.
The crew pushed the ship away from dock with punting poles, and immediately Melaina missed the aulete's beat, the swish of oars. But she soon learned to appreciate the pop of white linen sails, the sing of twisted-papyrus halyards, the groan of the yard against the mast. Even in rough water, however, the galley was lethargic.
They sailed on in silence, dawn's pink glow gradually revealing the coastline of Salamis as they skirted west through the strait of Megara and broke out into the open water of the Saronic Gulf. The Hierophant's deep voice came alive to tell Melaina of Saron, the ancient king of Troezen, who hunted a hind into these waters, but became overcome by waves and met his fate in the deep. The gulf was named for the king. The Hierophant also told of Theseus being born and raised in Troezen, just south of Epidaurus. They'd not sail quite that far.
Conversation quickly lapsed as they passed the southern edge of Salamis and were more exposed to the winds that carved great swells in the sea. The boat pitched violently, bow breaking through wave after wave sending showers of seawater across the deck. The animals' worried cries, bleats, oinks and baas were a constant strain on Melaina's ears. She'd never been south farther than Salamis nor seen the open sea. Now the expanse of the Mediterranean stretched all the way to Egypt.
The Hierophant seemed to shed his years, along with the pain he'd lately felt. He came alive, talking as Melaina had never heard him, telling of how in his youth, he'd commanded a ship himself. Before becoming Hierophant, he'd been a merchant and sailed to far off lands: Crete, Cyprus, even Phoenicia. The Hierophant hummed ancient sea tunes long since forgotten by most, and talked of Melaina's grandmother, how she'd died in childbirth. He was an old man when he'd married her, she just a girl. Melaina, he said, reminded him so much of her. If she'd lived, she'd be Aeschylus' age.
Melaina noticed her mother's saddened expression at the mention of her mother. Melaina knew that she had never known her and realized for the first time what a tragedy that must have been.
Afternoon came and went, and just before sundown, they made dock at a small headland jutting out into the gulf. The Hierophant pointed to a building on a rocky spur. "Hera's temple," he said. "We'll spend the night there."
"This isn't Asklepios' healing center?" Melaina asked.
"Half a day's journey inland. We'll be there midday tomorrow."
Melaina felt uneasy staying in Hera's temple. She'd avoided the goddess of marriage since making the decision to follow Artemis. Tonight she'd have no escape.
The grain ship dropped them off at the dock and continued on south. Melaina wondered why no one met their group, but the Hierophant didn't seem to expect anyone and labored on up the hill, each step torturing his bent frame. He leaned upon his staff and poked at their small herd of animals to help the two slaves. The goats, particularly excited about being off the boat, kicked up their heels.
The sanctuary was enclosed within a stone entry with large double doors. All was silent except for the wind whistling between stones and bowing trees. The Hierophant pounded on the doors with his staff, waited, then pounded again. Finally, they creaked open, and an old toothless man poked his head out. When he saw the Hierophant's purple cloak and gold-spiked staff, he fled. Soon an old, cow-eyed woman appeared, her matronly face partly shrouded by a veil, her dark hair falling freely to the middle of her back. She spoke little but showed great respect for the Hierophant. She ushered the group inside and slaves provided an abundant repast, then she showed them to their bedchambers. She left to show their slaves where to pen the animals and let the chickens loose to stretch their legs.
But Melaina had another errand to perform and stole quietly outside to Hera's temple. Inside, she found a beautiful ivory and gold statue of Hera seated on a throne. The goddess wore a gold diadem, as had the old crone who'd opened the gate, and a double-sleeved chiton exposing white arms. In one hand she held a pomegranate, a seed symbol linking her to the Mysteries of Eleusis, and in the other a sceptre. A cuckoo sat on top of the sceptre, a manifestation of the form Zeus took to court Hera. Hera's face had broad, handsome features, a high forehead, and a dark, somber mood revealed in the eyes. The corners of her mouth drooped. Zeus' wife was stormy, sullen, but glorious.
Melaina stood uneasily before the statue. "Dearest mother Hera, first of goddesses on Olympus, blessed queen of all and consort of almighty Zeus, who guards the keys of marriage. I've come to beg your forgiveness. I've neglected you since deciding to remain virgin and follow Artemis. I mean no disrespect…"
Melaina stopped. She heard a ringing in her ears and felt the presence of a great hostility. She tried to characterize it further but was lost. She continued. "Threefold goddess of the moon, though I myself will not marry, I'll forever be in your service, preparing young maidens for the celebration of your sacred marriage rites…"
Melaina sensed a growing threat, a hovering hatred. She backed away from the statue and returned to her chamber. But she didn't sleep well, tossed and turned, and lay awake most of the night. She heard her mother's deep breathing next to her and the Hierophant's groans in the adjoining room. Throughout her life she'd always sought solace in the presence of the divine, but here at Hera's temple, she was an outcast.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 41