*
Long before sunrise, Myrrhine rose sleepless, dressed, and went to the wagon where she found Palaemon already harnessing the mules. All morning they negotiated the undulating hills until they crossed another shallow tributary of the Kephisos. They started the ascent of the spur of Kithaeron toward Eleutherai, the last settlement before the pass. On the other side they'd be in Boeotia, enemy territory.
The road was rough and devoid of travelers. Word of Persian bands on the loose had sent the entire countryside into hiding. The wagon started quaking when one spindle loosened and the wheel wobbled. Palaemon did what he could, and they limped on into Eleutherai, arriving in late afternoon.
The fort at Eleutherai was heavily manned and crowded with refugees. At one time, it had been on the boarder between Boeotia and Attica, but hatred of Thebes drove the inhabitants to align with Athens. Myrrhine spent the night in the temple of Hera while Palaemon worked on the wheel spindles at the local blacksmith's and then slept in the wagon.
That evening, Myrrhine stood atop the city walls listening to wild screams coming from the wooded hills. These were the slopes of Kithaeron, ancient abode of Dionysus, the twice-born god, where dark legends told of many infants who'd been exposed on its slopes. Baby Oedipus had been abandoned there but had been saved by a shepherd and returned years later to unknowingly kill his father and marry his mother. Female devotees of Dionysus, maenads, also roamed these slopes, engaging in orgiastic rituals during which they ripped apart live animals and devoured raw flesh.
Another scream sent a chill through her. Was it animal or human? Myrrhine returned to her chamber.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 58