CHAPTER 39: The Newborn
Back in the ruins of Eleusis and within the Gates of Hades, Myrrhine relit the family hearth fire and set up residence. Palaemon tried convincing her to take a chamber in his home, but Myrrhine refused, preferring the Dark Lord's sacred grotto, where she sat awaiting her daughter's return from the far side of the Aegean.
Two days earlier, she'd watched the Greek forces rout the Persians at Plataea. She'd tended the injured, then returned to Eleusis with Aeschylus and Sophocles. The ruins of the Telesterion had become a great center for war casualties. Families and friends from both Attica and the Peloponnese congregated at Eleusis' crossroads to eye those returning from the north, question them about a husband, a son, a neighbor. By the wagonload came the injured and dying to be sheltered and nursed among the ruins. Gone was the glory of victory, left, only the unmerciful mutilations, the naked ghastliness of death.
When Myrrhine first returned from Plataea, she'd found Kallias' mother waiting for her. Hipparete had come to salvage what she could of Kallias' home in Eleusis. She told Myrrhine that Melaina and Kallias had gone with the fleet to Delos. With the annihilation of the Persian army at Plataea, Myrrhine hadn't been worried that Delos might be attacked, and knew Melaina would be safe to return a few days later. But Myrrhine couldn't understand why Kallias had taken Melaina with him to Delos at all. Hipparete, after much coercing, admitted that Melaina had had a vision, a prophecy of an Aegean battle.
"I know the truth then," said Myrrhine. "My daughter has had another seizure." Lady Hipparete nodded. She held Myrrhine's hands as they both cried. Myrrhine realized that her daughter's epilepsy hadn't been cured at Epidaurus after all.
At night, Myrrhine had been sheltering in the ashes under the overhang of the ancient grotto, and during the day, she stayed atop the hill overlooking the bay. Always she awaited the return of the warships.
While ascending the hill this day, she heard horse hooves along the road from Athens, then shouting in the ruins of the Telesterion. Young Sophocles, she thought, and called to him. He walked up as she started down to meet him.
Sophocles looked tired and worn, his tunic grimy. His eyes had lost their sparkle. Myrrhine realized that he didn't bring good news, and fear gripped the pit of her stomach.
"She's okay," Sophocles said, "but Melaina will not return soon. She's gone with the fleet to liberate Ionia."
"No! Sophocles, not to Asia!"
"Several days ago. This morning a ship returned from Delos with the news. A priest of Apollo mentioned her."
Although she questioned him unrelentingly, he knew little beyond those few words. Those who'd returned had given no reason for Melaina having followed the fleet. Sophocles had no word of Melaina's condition. Finally, he did remember that the priest had also mentioned that Melaina met another girl at Delos, a friend and a priestess of Artemis. She'd left with Melaina for Asia. A girl from the Isthmus.
Myrrhine thought a moment. "Keladeine," she said. "Melaina met her after the battle of Salamis. At least she'll not be among all those warriors without female companionship."
Two days later, Myrrhine sat on the Mirthless Rock before the entrance to the Gates of Hades, where divine Demeter had also sat awaiting the return of Kore. Myrrhine heard singing at the entrance to the sacred quarter and watched as choruses danced around the Kallichoron Well. These celebratory sounds mingled with the wails and moans of the injured still camped there. Myrrhine realized that this was the day of the Mysteries ceremony, and that people had come even though initiation was no longer possible.
Myrrhine climbed the hill's stone steps and stood at Melaina's favorite spot above the bay searching for ships that might signify Melaina's homecoming. The morning chill was deeper than usual. All day, Myrrhine remained on the hilltop, and as afternoon dragged, she noticed people streaming in from Athens along the Sacred Way. She thought she recognized the Iakchos song. The ruins of the Telesterion filled with people, both able-bodied and injured along with the dying and the dead.
Just before sundown, Myrrhine saw three sleek triremes slicing through the bay toward Eleusis. When they drew closer she could no longer contain herself and ran downhill, through the gate, and out onto the dock. Wind gusts created choppy waves as thunder rumbled in the distance. Others came running to join her at dockside.
Myrrhine stood at the gangway of the first ship but could see neither Melaina nor Kallias. The men who caught the hawsers and tied them over the landing lugs shouted back and forth at the men onboard. A great roar went up, so she could no longer hear.
"What's happened?" she asked a man struggling with the huge papyrus rope.
"Leotychides defeated the Persians at Mykale!" he shouted, but singing drowned the rest of his words. Another man spoke, "These ships bring the wounded and some of the dead." She saw the walking-injured struggle to the gangway. The bow officer was the first to step down.
"Have you seen a girl, a priestess from Eleusis," Myrrhine shouted to him over the din.
"Kallias' mistress? No one will ever forget her," he shouted back.
"She's dead then?"
"Next ship." He pointed at a trireme docking further down.
It was a featureless ghostlike ship in the gloom of twilight. As its gangway lowered, she saw Kallias carrying a bundle in his arms and rushed to him.
"Oh Zeus! How to interpret this? Is it a body?" she wondered aloud. "Kallias carrying a lump of humanity, bloodied, bandaged. Oh, if only I could see the face in this failing light. Is she Melaina? No! But who else could it be? Yes, it's my dearest Melaina, poor child. Am I dreaming?"
Kallias said something to the girl in his arms.
"Melaina!"
Lady Hipparete appeared from behind Myrrhine. She screamed, "Kallias, my son, you're alive! Ah, the worry is over!"
A flash of lightening lit the dock and another rumble rocked them. Myrrhine recognized the physician followed by more women from Eleusis, then Anaktoria and her mother, Myrrhine's own cousin. "Oh! Great Zeus in heaven," she said, "have they all returned alive?"
Melaina's face filled with pain. "Oh, mother! Your voice is the dearest music!" Tears came. "The wound is but a superficial nothing. I've been in labor off and on two days since the ship past Delos. I can't stand much more."
Myrrhine felt delirious upon hearing her daughter's sweet words, even if pain-filled. What exquisite complaint, she thought, running alongside Kallias as he carried Melaina through the stone gate, up the hill, and down the other side to the sacred quarter. Myrrhine took her daughter's hand, released it, took it again.
Myrrhine halted the small group and spoke quickly to Anaktoria's mother, hugged her and sent her and Anaktoria to find their burned-out homes. Then she turned back to her own daughter. "Through here," she said, directing Kallias to an opening in the hillside. "How could you do it? Lead her into such great danger."
"Me?" Kallias scoffed. "She dragged the entire fleet to Asia."
"You let them hurt her." She recognized one of her slaves hanging back and called him forward. "Off to Salamis with you," she said. "Bring Kleito. It's your life if she doesn't get here in time."
Kallias defended himself. "Zeus knows, it was not her life in danger. I'd not myself live today but for her."
Darkness came swiftly. They stepped out of the short tunnel and into the open space before Hades' cave, seemingly emerging from the Underworld itself. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, announcing their arrival to those camped in the courtyard. A cry of wonder rose up from the field of wounded and dying who now spread before them as a gigantic plain of misery.
Aeschylus it was who came among them carrying a torch, grumpy Philokleia at his side, Palaemon limping behind. Aeschylus said, "The daemons Might and Force have announced your arrival to this primordial landscape. Bleak as Scythia this grotto seems among the ruins. I see you bring the injured daughter of my own brother. Is her life in danger?"
"Only from the child wishing to be delivered," said Myrrhine.
As Kallias pla
ced Melaina upon a pallet within the grotto, Aeschylus questioned him. "How goes the defense of the Aegean?"
"Won!" said Kallias. "Ionia has been liberated along with the islands. What news of Plataea? Your presence here is surprising."
"We routed Mardonius four days ago. Pausanias lays siege to Thebes as we speak."
"Victory four days gone? Can it be, truly? Under that same day's sun we destroyed Xerxes' forces at Mykale and burned his fleet of ships."
"That very morning?"
"Afternoon and evening."
"We'd finished business and prepared a meal before you started."
"Ah, so it's true. Melaina had a vision. The troops believed her, took great heart in it. But the generals deemed it impossible that she'd know."
"Out with you, Kallias," said Lady Hipparete. "All you men, find another shelter from the storm." She shooed with her hands. "Women bring the newborn into the world. Off!"
"The staff!" said Melaina "Before you go, Lord Kallias. The Hierophant's staff."
"The women have laid it on the ground beside you."
Myrrhine wondered at her daughter's words. How could the Hierophant's staff have fallen into her hands? "It burned with the Telesterion," she told Melaina.
"Not so, mother. I found it on Mykale's desolate shore. Grandfather is alive!"
"Mercy of the gods, what news! You saw him?"
"No. Although Anaktoria and her mother did. The physician also."
"Such relief! Where is he? Was he not aboard the trireme?"
"Our worries for him are not over. Persia still holds him captive."
"I'll worry him later. It's enough to know he's alive. But why did you make such a journey across the Aegean?"
"Please let me pass over that, not bring all the dangers to life again in the telling." She grabbed her abdomen, "Oh! It comes on again."
"The siege of birth pains?"
"Yes! This cursed plague. It burns me!"
"I'll get warm fomentations to ease the pain. Light a fire, Hipparete. Set a cauldron to boil."
Great thunderheads formed above, as night grew deadly dark inside the cave. Bitter wind swirled about them, kicking up ashes among the towering ruins. Yet nothing could dampen Myrrhine's spirits. Her mind whirred. Melaina returned safe, my father back from the dead, the Persians routed both on land and sea, Ionia liberated. Is it possible to retrieve so much happiness in all these ashes?
The slave reappeared with Kleito, little Euripides at her side. "Found her at the dock," said the slave, "her mind already bent on serving you."
"Oh Kleito! Good news comes so quickly, I can hardly catch my breath. Lady Hipparete is here to help, but has no herbs for birthing afflictions."
"Lost during the evacuation," confirmed Hipparete.
"I never travel light. Always have remedies at the ready." Kleito hefted a leather satchel. "These all be herbs for delivering as well as healing. Who'll do the midwifery?" Kleito looked ethereal, dressed in a silvery robe, golden belt around her waist, her face veiled. Myrrhine thought her friend resembled a sorceress. Kleito pulled the veil forward over her brow.
Myrrhine waited before answering, knowing she'd have to admit her barrenness. "I will. My womb is empty even at this early age. Artemis wishes it so. She gave me one child to gain experience. You and Hipparete can assist."
"Hurry, Kleito!" cried Melaina. "The fiend attacks again. Oh agony!"
"Steady," said Myrrhine, then turned to Kleito. "Give her something for pain and check her shoulder. She's been injured. Heat the olive oil, Hipparete, while I soothe her with warm hands. Soak some rags."
"Her shoulder is fine. Some professional has already treated her," said Kleito.
Agido rushed into the grotto, screamed, and fell upon Melaina.
"What a joy to see you, little friend," Melaina said, "but the pain! Mother, help!"
Myrrhine kept an eye on Kleito as she retrieved a small pouch from the satchel. "What's that?" Myrrhine asked. "Tell the heritage of each medicine before administering."
"Don't trust me after the hellebore?"
"I asked you here, didn't I?"
"Dittany, peculiar to Crete." She spread flakes over the surface of a cup of steaming cauldron water. "Relieves pain during difficult labor, and resembles pennyroyal in looks and taste. Goats go crazy over it, graze it to nothing. It's scarce. If you prefer I not…."
Myrrhine hesitated. "Smells of lemon."
Melaina said, "Yes! Kleito, yes! Give it to me." She held Agido's hand so tightly that it looked as though blood might drip from the fingertips.
Kleito faltered, as if she'd withhold the medication, given the questioning. Melaina grabbed the cup from her.
"The epilepsy," said Myrrhine to her daughter, "are you in danger of a seizure?"
Melaina sipped. "No, Mother. No symptoms."
Still Myrrhine worried. "Kleito, do you have anything to forestall seizures?"
Kleito said nothing but dipped another cup of hot water from the cauldron, sprinkled a bit of dried leaf upon its simmering surface.
"Mmmm," said Melaina putting aside one steaming cup for the other. "Thyme."
"From the slopes of Hymettos not far from our home in Phlya. It's usually given to revive from a seizure."
"If I could rest, a little sleep. I'm so tired."
As the women chattered, the blazing fire cast dark shadows onto the grotto walls, shapes shifting about like Underworld creatures. The chorus, who'd been dancing around the Kallichoron Well, came to the sacred grotto in a long train, followed by a chorus of warriors who had finally made it back from the battle at Plataea. With them, came the children of the silver mines at Laurium, the worms so dear to Melaina. The children scampered, sang, and scurried about the temple ruins like crazed Korybantes. The chorus formed about the birthing scene, drowning Melaina's cries with wild shouts and the lusty beating of swords against battle shields.
Through all the din, Myrrhine went about her business laying hot cloths across Melaina's swollen abdomen, then inserted her finger into Melaina's privates.
Melaina jumped, trembled. "Where are you touching me? You'll kill me! It leaps again! The evil pain rouses up!"
Myrrhine shook her head. "You've already lost your water. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It happened at Delos," Melaina confessed, "ten days ago."
"A dry birth? No wonder the problems. Your isthmus is still closed after two days labor." She filled a goat's bladder with olive oil, shoved the small end inside her daughter and squirted till it ran out.
Again Myrrhine inserted her finger, lubricated the orifice, and pulled slightly to dilate it.
Melaina groaned. "Get your hand out!"
"It's open barely enough to admit two fingers, but getting larger. Feel it?"
"Yes! It has hold of me!" said Melaina raising from bed. "The burning flames again! What have you done?"
Myrrhine ignored her daughter's agony to observe Kleito retrieving a terracotta jar of gray balls from her satchel. "This good charm is cyclamen," Kleito said. "It produces rapid delivery. I harvest the root, burn it, and steep the ashes in wine to form balls." She looked at Myrrhine directly, her eyes cold, hard.
"What else is it good for?" asked Myrrhine.
"Pessary."
"It prevents conception? Okay, that makes sense. Give it."
Melaina said, "Ah! No need. It's gone now. Just please be quiet. Don't wake the slumbering malady."
"The pain will grow," said Myrrhine.
"Chew," Kleito said, giving Melaina one of the balls. After Melaina had chomped, Kleito gave her a small cup of wine. "Sip."
"Oh, Kleito! It leaps up again. So soon, the evil pain blazes forth."
Myrrhine stooped again to check the dilation. "Time for the midwife's stool. Oops! We have none. It burned in the fire!"
"Kleito," said Hipparete, "you're robust. We'll use your lap."
"Euripides," Kleito said to her son, "stand back against the stone wall, out of the way. You touch that f
ire, I'll have you by the ear." Then quickly she loosened her golden belt, stepped out of her silvery robe. She slipped on an apron, gathering it midway to her thighs, then sat upon the slaughter stone. Myrrhine helped her groaning daughter onto Kleito's thighs, placed her daughter's thighs outside Kleito's. "Melaina is so light in the hips," said Kleito, "no wonder she's having trouble."
Myrrhine sat before Melaina, anointed her left hand with olive oil and turned to Hipparete. "Has this oil been used for cooking?"
"No," said Hipparete, "it came from underground storage and hasn't been touched by the kitchen."
Another quick check revealed that Melaina was now dilating rapidly.
"Eyie!" screamed Melaina. "The vile pain has me in its clutches. Pray for me, Mother. Call forth Eileithyia."
"Can you hold her, Kleito?" asked Myrrhine.
"She's feather light but writhes like an eel."
Myrrhine wondered how she could have forgotten the birthing prayers. She rose to her feet, raised her palms to Heaven. "Venerable goddess of swift birth, Eileithyia, hear my prayer. No one sees bright day without your aid. Sweet sight are you to those in travail, laboring women. Years ago when I gave birth to Melaina, I called you. Then, you came and saved us both. Now again, I call you to us. Speed this delivery. Share Melaina's pain, freeing her from terrible distress, and I promise a great golden-threaded necklace in return. Come to Melaina's aid, rescue her child. It's your nature to be savior of all."
Myrrhine then prayed to Hera, that she not restrain Eileithyia, divine midwife, so Melaina would deliver quickly. She also prayed for Artemis to assist, for she had helped her own mother, Leto, during Apollo's birth.
Though the chorus ranted continuously, the heavens had remained quiet but now broke loose during the prayers. No lightning stuck the ground, but licking tongues of fire danced along the clouds. Thunder rumbled and echoed.
Myrrhine placed a blanket on the cold stone before Melaina and sat on it, looking up into her daughter's pallid eyes. "Expel the baby, dear. The pain is nothing to fear."
Melaina took a deep breath, strained till the blood veins popped out on her forehead, then sent forth a scream.
"Keep the breath above, child. Groan, don't scream. Let the groan drive breath downward into your flanks. Let down her hair, Kleito, loosen her wraps."
Myrrhine again placed her left hand over her daughter's womb, inserted her oiled finger, and, with a circular movement, dilated the orifice. "Ah," she said. "The chorion has ruptured. Won't be long now. I feel baby hair!"
Though Melaina grunted and strained, strained and grunted, the baby wasn't coming. Myrrhine read exhaustion on her daughter's face. Her own mother had died giving birth. She couldn't bear thinking of Melaina suffering the same fate. She felt inside Melaina again. "The orifice is large enough, but the head is wrong. Maybe something beside it. Move her around, Kleito. Shift her."
"Perhaps she conceived a monster," said Philokleia, who'd kept silently back until the first hint of disaster. "That's known to cause difficult childbirth."
Myrrhine fixed her with a stern look. "We'll have none of that."
"Is something wrong with the baby, Mother?" asked Melaina.
"No, child. The baby is fine. It may be turned the wrong way."
Kleito put Melaina on the pallet, raised her feet, and shuffled her body about, then resumed her seat on the slaughter stone, Melaina astride her thighs.
"The orifice breathes also," Myrrhine said to her daughter. "First it opens, then contracts. Wait for my word to push…. Now!"
"Perhaps it's stillborn," said Philokleia. "That also causes trouble."
"Shut up!" said Kleito, with uncharacteristic venom. "Don't jinx the birth. Make yourself useful, Philokleia. Watch little Euripides so he doesn't toast his fingers in the fire."
Myrrhine ignored them. "Now, Melaina, push!" and a few seconds later, "Again! Deep breath, push it into the loins."
Agido wiped sweat from Melaina's brow.
Melaina sucked air, groaned, strained. She repeated again and again at Myrrhine's bidding. Just as Myrrhine thought that her daughter had passed into unconsciousness, given up, Melaina raised slightly, opened her eyes with new resolve.
"I'll not have my child stillborn," Melaina said, growling under her breath, hot anger flushing her face.
Myrrhine sensed Melaina put great pressure into her body, felt the child's head slip. "Yes!" she cried. "The baby comes! More, Melaina, more!"
Another loud groan.
"The head is through!" Myrrhine slipped her fingers around the child's chin, pulled the head forward. "Quickly now, before the orifice closes about the neck. Yes! The shoulders are free!" Slowly she pulled out the child, umbilical cord trailing. Myrrhine looked up into Melaina's astonished eyes.
"My baby! I have a child!" cried Melaina, then fell back into Kleito.
The chorus that had kept up a steady vocal stopped. The silence in the sacred grotto was broken only by the infant's squeaky wails.
"A girl!" cried Myrrhine. "A granddaughter!" She took the warm rags from Hipparete and rubbed them gently over the smooth skin, raked aside waxy goo and blood. The baby stopped wailing and opened its eyes, blinked, lips formed as if to speak. "The navel cord, Hipparete. No, a steel blade is of ill omen. Bring a sharp piece of glass. There, cut it four fingerbreadths." Myrrhine squeezed clotted blood from the remaining length of cord.
"She's mine, Mother," said Melaina. "I want her." But she grunted again, groaned. "Ohhh! How's this? The gripping comes again! Is there no end?"
"Something is wrong," said Hipparete. "The chorion is left behind, won't fall clear and makes trouble."
"Eyie!" screamed Melaina. "It's devouring me!"
Again the chorus' voices lofted, swords clanged against shields, thunderbolts crashed. A few drops of rain fell. Kleito felt Melaina's abdomen, then laughed. "She has another loaf in the oven. Hurry, Myrrhine! That it not fall on the ground."
Myrrhine handed the first baby off to Hipparete and again sat before her daughter. With her left hand, she felt inside the hot, bloody opening to her daughter's womb. "You're right, Kleito. A slick, bald head." She looked up into Melaina's agony-filled eyes, saw tears, felt a knot in her own throat. "One more time, dearest. Twins! No wonder they've come early and with double trouble. This one'll be easier."
"I haven't the strength. My whole body is ruined."
Myrrhine could see her daughter's exhaustion written across her drawn face. "A few deep breaths. You must start again. The baby calls." She watched as Melaina roused herself, groaned.
Surrounded by lightning, neither cowering nor afraid, the women trusted in Zeus as would innocent children, that he'd not strike them dead amidst his own mystery. Crash after crash struck the mountain, illuminating the grotto scene witnessed by the spellbound audience as the chorus continued its crescendo of voices, laced with the twang of a minstrel's lyre brought to song by the plectrum. The chorus mimicked dances of the immortals, cosmic dances, twirling to imitate the course of planets through the heavens.
The second child did come easier, Myrrhine pulling at the infant during dilation, giving way when the uterus drew together. Myrrhine, lit by strobed lightning flashes, handed the baby to Hipparete, then turned to work the chorion. She inserted her left hand into her daughter's uterus before it closed, grasped the embryonic pouch by its roots, gently moved it from side to side to ensure it was unfettered, and pulled. While Melaina strained, Myrrhine applied a light but steady pressure, careful not to capture the uterus. Finally, the quivering mass of purplish jelly, with nerves, veins, and blood-filled arteries, pulled free. She set it sizzling on the fire.
"What's the second, Lady Hipparete?" asked Melaina. "I'll die if you don't say."
"Bright-eyed boy! Bald as a gourd."
"Let me have them before swaddling."
"Not so fast," said Myrrhine. "We've the cleanup work left."
While Philokleia stood back out of the way, sulking that all had gone well, Hipparete and Kl
eito bathed Melaina first with cloths doused in hot cauldron water, followed by heated olive oil, washed her genitals and padded them to absorb the drainage. For the breasts, which had already begun to swell with warm milk, Kleito applied fomentations with sea sponges squeezed in a decoction of aromatic fenugreek.
Myrrhine cleaned each child, first beating fine powdery salt with honey, besprinkled it over the child, avoiding the eyes and mouth, washed it with a great quantity of warm water. This she repeated, besprinkling and washing, with even warmer water. Then she squeezed thick mucus from the nose, cleared the mouth and injected the eyes with olive oil. With her little finger, she dilated the anus. She bent the naval cord double, wrapped it with a lock of wool. So, the second child.
Melaina took a child in each arm and soothed the wails with patting, gentle coos, put them inside her own blanket. Two naked little bodies pressed against their mother's warm skin.
Myrrhine watched her daughter, proud, jealous waves sweeping her. "May I take one?"
"Mother! You've seen them more than me."
"They need swaddling."
Melaina, baby cradled at each breast, said, "The man at Epidaurus had it backwards. The gods give two blessings for a single trial."
Melaina finally gave up the little girl. Myrrhine gently laid her on a blanket in her own lap, gathered soft wool bandages three-fingers width. She held the babe's left hand and felt its fingers grip her thumb, fell in love, so tiny. She kissed them. She wrapped the fingers, wound the palm, forearm, biceps. Wrapped the other arm. She wound a larger bandage around the tiny chest and bound the breast tight, the loins loose.
She looked away, then spoke again, but her voice cracked, felt a sob in her throat. "The little girl, all that hair. She's but a duplicate of you, Melaina."
Each leg she swaddled separate, so to the toe tips. Then she placed the arms tight against the sides, the feet ankle against ankle, and with a broad bandage wrapped the babe from chest to toes to prevent twisting and inordinate movement. About the head, she wrapped a soft clean cloth. Thus, she also wrapped the little boy, but loosened the chest bindings and tightened them about the loins. More seemly for a male.
She passed both babes off to Melaina.
The warriors and slave children of Laurium had vanished, leaving only the women's chorus's soft song and the quick floating rhythm of tender feet. It was a vision of the cosmos: the twin primal forces of music and twirling dance setting order amid chaos, the ethereal elements woven tight by gesture and movement as even the very planets coursed the heavens.
Agido beamed at the babies as if they were her own.
"May I give them a nipple?" Melaina asked. "Both are making smacking noises."
Melaina then took each nipple in turn, wet her babies' lips with them. They set to sucking. Melaina first winced with pain, then smiled as intense pleasure spread across her face.
While Melaina nursed them, Myrrhine set torches about, and Zeus continued his lightning and thunder. The babies trembled at each flash, frightening crash. Like flaming pillars, the bright bolts stood and vanished, yet lingered in the mind. The chorus parted to give the audience more than a glimpse. A deathly stillness fell.
A final lightning bolt struck the cave itself, setting afire the wobbly-hinged Gates of Hades. The crowd cringed back from the crash, women ran screaming as if having viewed light from the Elysian Fields. Great shouts of surprise and amazement erupted.
When the commotion subsided, and the fire on the wooden gates became but smoking embers, young Sophocles made a short appearance. He'd only just heard of their return from Asia and rushed to the ruins. He was surprised to see Melaina with two babies. He smiled to see such tiny humans, blushed before Melaina, then walked away.
Little Euripides finally came to see, touched his finger to a tiny nose, then took up residence beside Melaina, snuggled against her shoulder.
Melaina spoke to Hipparete. "Have you seen Kallias?" she asked.
"Gone to Athens," she said. "Melaina… He'll not have the children as his own."
"I know," she said. "I've watched him agonize over me and the pregnancy for several days. Finally he's decided."
Myrrhine saw a cloud descended over her daughter, but she breathed a sigh of relief. "This is all for the best," she said. "I don't believe either of them. Not Kallias, not Aeschylus. Your father would never have given a Eumolpid to one of the Kerykes and upset the balance of power in the Mysteries."
"But Kallias described Father's death scene to me. How the two of them were alone and Father close to death. Father gave me to him for my protection. So Kallias tells it."
"Aeschylus wasn't there?"
"No, according to Kallias."
What great liars, both of them, she thought. She'd not trouble her daughter further with this. Not only Kallias, but also Aeschylus would have some explaining to do. Myrrhine saw the blacksmith approaching.
Palaemon told her, "Bring mother and children to my home. This is no shelter for the newborn."
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 85