*
That afternoon, a squadron of Hoplites boarded boats and sailed the strait to Phaleron, Athens' seaport. They encountered no resistance among the city's smoldering ruins and sent back word, all was clear. The Greeks took back all of Attica without a blow. Families prepared to return to what was left of their homes. Kallias owned a commercial galley that was quickly loaded with household goods and shipped across the channel the following day. The refugees' migration home had begun.
Melaina said her good-byes to Kleito and little Euripides, bid Kleito tell her mother not to worry. When aboard ship, Melaina looked longingly to the north at the wisps of smoke drifting skyward above Eleusis. When would she ever see her mother again?
As the sea breeze chilled her cheeks, Melaina sensed the onset of another seizure. I've not been cured, she thought. She knew not when the frenzy would take her, only that it was a hidden, stalking presence. And when it did come, she'd be in the hands of those who knew nothing of her illness. Should she tell them? What if she was wrong, and this only some minor illness, perhaps the sniffles?
From the docks, Aeschylus and his family, now including Melaina, walked through the ashes of Phaleron and along the footpath to Athens, wails of returning residents growing with each step. Aeschylus put Melaina aboard an ox-drawn cart. As they traversed the ruins, Melaina fell to self-pity and tried to take stock of what had happened to her. I love freedom so much, she thought, and yet have not only been stripped of it, but also of my internal sovereignty. The gods have stolen my body and given my mind over to frenzy. Aphrodite has taken my heart and given it to Sophocles. Uncle Aeschylus has stolen me from my mother and given me to Kallias, and I'll spend the rest of my life in terrible Athens. What else can they take from me?
On they went, Melaina's despair growing with every step. Despondent old men, women and dogs, who'd been left behind during the evacuation and had survived, came to the side of the road to witness the return. Smoke trailed overhead and coals glowed in dark places. A chorus of dog howls filled the ruins.
In Athens, her uncle Aeschylus found his home without a roof and the stone walls pulled down, all but two rooms scorched. In these, Philokleia set up housekeeping although she screeched and raved. Slaves set to silently rebuilding. Miraculously, Kallias' home had been spared. The Persian generals had used it for their headquarters and left too quickly to have had time to work mischief on it.
A runner arrived, bearing a torch from the Archon Basileus, who'd decreed all sacred hearths extinguished to purge the city of Persian pollution and relit with Delphic fire. Melaina remembered the torch brought aboard the ferry at Megara. Runners with flame from that torch would now relight all Athens' sacred hearths.
While slaves unloaded household goods, Aunt Philokleia and her handmaids tried to salvage as much as possible. Though many slaves had evacuated with Aeschylus' household to Salamis, several had run off. Philokleia complained of having to set up housekeeping shorthanded. Melaina refused to enter her uncle's home. The flame inside her had also been extinguished. Where would she ever find a source to relight it?
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 68