CHAPTER 28: A Mistress for the Dadouchos
Melaina remained in the wagon outside, lapsing into a state of silent desperation. She was now in the hands of Aunt Philokleia, wife of her most vocal critic, her Uncle Aeschylus. She wished the Persians had captured her. She felt exiled, forced to take up unwanted residence on foreign soil. Athens is not my home, Melaina thought, nothing will ever make it home. Sitting alone in the wagon, she prayed against Kallias. "Oh most glorious Hera, grant not the dark wishes of a cruel heart."
Aeschylus returned, scooped Melaina into his arms and carried her inside. "You'll not be allowed to mope while the rest of us re-light the hearth," he said. "Your self-indulgent life is over."
After the slaves had cleared debris from Hestia's habitation, Aeschylus slaughtered a goat, prayed first to the hearth goddess for prosperity and happiness, and then to his ancestors to receive Melaina into their care as a new household member. He also asked divine Dionysus to provide guidance for her during the coming days.
Melaina's family ancestors were much the same as at Eleusis, her father being Aeschylus' brother, but she hadn't anticipated the loneliness she felt at no longer being in the care of Demeter and Kore. She hadn't thought much about her uncle's devotion to Dionysus, although it made sense. Dionysus was the patron god of theatre, and Uncle Aeschylus the most famous playwright in all Greece. Melaina had shied away from Dionysus, god of frenzy, wondering at times if he wasn't behind her epilepsy. Now I end up in a home where he's worshiped as the first god, she thought. She remembered her uncle's strange story of Dionysus coming to him in a dream and telling him to write tragedies.
Melaina took a deep breath and reassessed her situation. Since Athens had its own temple of Artemis Brauronia on the Akropolis as well as a school for girls, she wasn't needed as she'd been in Eleusis. But all was not lamentable. Her baby would now have a father. Provided Kallias would accept the child.
The longer she thought about it, the more Melaina wondered if her predisposition against Kallias clouded her reasoning. Let me take heart with my misfortune as might a philosopher, she thought. My soul, by its own nature, often adds heaviness to circumstance. Oh, if I only had my mother's pleasant disposition. Why be a lover of grief and fault-finding? Evenhanded Zeus doesn't administer misery to some in a gentle, well-tempered flow, and unleash on others an undiluted stream. I count upon myself only the worst of my lot. Kallias is the wealthiest man in Athens and will care for me with great extravagance.
Melaina hoped the marriage would take place in Gamelion, Hera's sacred month in the dead of winter and five months hence, as did most. But Kallias wouldn't let it rest, saying, "At the full moon." He would not tolerate the childs' arrival before they were joined.
"Tell my mother, so she'll be here to carry the torch," said Melaina.
"We'll see," said her uncle.
Reluctantly, Aunt Philokleia prepared for Melaina's wedding before they had the ashes scraped off the floors. Philokleia scoffed at the thought that Melaina was carrying a divine child. "Simple promiscuity," she said. She pumped Melaina for the name of the father. "Tell me!" she ordered. "We both know he's around here somewhere."
Melaina fell to crying and prayed that her mother might rescue her.
The evening before the marriage, Aeschylus and Philokleia took Melaina to the Akropolis, where they mounted the hill through the propylaea to the temple of Artemis Brauronia, badly desecrated by the Persians. Melaina had brought her childhood toys and deposited them at the altar: clay animals, dolls, noisemakers, knucklebones. Kallias had brought so many of her possessions, including all her trinkets, that she wondered if he'd scooped the dust from the floor. Kallias and his mother, Lady Hipparete, met them at the temple for the marriage preludes.
Melaina knew this would be her last chance, so she ran to Kallias. "Tell me of my father's promise," she said. "I must know his exact words when he give me to you."
Kallias stopped short and stared at her as though he'd like to smack her into the ground. But unaccountably, his glare softened. Still with considerable irritation, he spoke. "We'd pulled him from the Persian boat where he suffered the loss of his hand. He was in the physician's tent, very weak, and no one could stop the bleeding. I'd seen you only a few days before and knew what I beauty you'd one day be. I went to him even though the others had left him to his death. 'Give Melaina to me, Kynegeiros," I said, 'and forever you can trust that I'll be there when she needs you.' At first I thought he'd already died, but then his head turned slowly toward me. 'Take her, Kallias, when she comes of age. But if you mistreat her, I'll send a maelstrom of evils upon you from the Undergloom.' He then passed from us, and I shut his eyes."
Tears had filled her eyes during the telling. "Where were you the night I conceived this child?" she asked.
Kallias' face turned bright red, but he would not answer.
She shook her head at him but asked nothing more. They fell in with the rest and walked to the temple. As her father wished, so would she live.
As the sinking sun cast the giant shadow of the Akropolis across the group, Melaina stood before the altar, a dark veil pulled over her face, refusing to speak and tears rolling down her cheeks. The wind had kicked up, sending a scattering of ashes through the air. The temple, although in ruins, reminded her of that at Brauron and the terrible events of the previous year. Finally, Melaina steadied herself, dedicated her toys to Artemis, and stood ready to recite her prenuptial vows.
Except for one last thing.
Melaina looked down at her feet, the sandals Kleito had given her covered with ash. I can't do this, she thought, not without at least knowing how my child and I will be treated. She wished desperately to speak to Kallias alone. She took hold of his coat and pulled him aside. She thought, Holy Demeter, he really is a large man, all those muscles. "This business is troubling, Lord Kallias," she said. "What'll be my role in your home? How will my child be treated? Shall we be prisoners, slaves to those running it?"
"Oh no, my love!" A look of outrage flashed across his face. He smiled a little. "You'll be mistress of everyone living there. Your honor among Athenians will be the greatest and those who wrong you punished unless they propitiate forgiveness. You are a priestess and the daughter of Kynegeiros, hero of the battle of Marathon. You'll bring prestige to my household."
Melaina had never imagined any fate for herself, save as appendage to his mother. He called me, 'my love'? "What will be the role of my child in your home?" Again the thought crossed her mind that she had but to tell him of the epilepsy to end this. But she knew the consequences could be disastrous.
"Our home," reminded Kallias, "and our child." He pulled her even farther from the others. "Do not question my allegiance to this child, for its fathering is no mystery to me."
Melaina was astonished. "You know how I came by the child?"
At first, he looked bewildered, as if he didn't understand her. "I know of the fathering of divine children…" He stopped in mid sentence, unsure of his ground, then tilted his head back in a gesture of reassurance. "Then let me tell you something that will satisfy you, I'm sure, a story of my family, the Kerykes. We descend from Hermes. Hermes was also the sire of Odysseus' grandfather, Autolykos. Odysseus was my distant cousin. Laertes didn't sire Odysseus though he loved him dearly. It was cunning Sisyphus of Corinth who first lay in shameful promiscuity with Autolykos' daughter, Anticlea. Yet Laertes took the pregnant woman to wife and accepted the child, Odysseus, as his own. No one will blame me for doing so with our child. The question of the child's father is not a liability but an asset. Speculation runs rampant concerning which god fathered it. What man, who fears the gods, would deny shelter and parentage to a divine child, such as yours, ours."
Somehow this news disappointed Melaina. She'd hoped he'd give her an excuse to end this. But her heart now softened toward him, and she realized her dreams were gone. "Forgive my questioning, Lord. I'll not be so difficult henceforth."
The two rejoined the others.
Melaina took a deep breath and recited her prenuptial vow. "I earnestly swear to behave myself," she said, a note of irrepressible irritation flavoring her words, "to obey my husband and stay indoors, to dress as befits modesty and hold my tongue in public and private." She bitterly resented the staying indoors part. She so loved Helios' bright rays. Her one consolation was that she'd finally get to see her mother.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 69