CHAPTER 42: The Cost of Salvation
As dawn stretched its rosy fingertips over Eleusis' ruins, a monstrous screech arose. Kallias had discovered his horses missing. The entire city fell into an uproar, everyone missing something. Myrrhine's heartache was replaced by a consuming loneliness of the soul, an exile of the spirit that left her feeling so frail she felt she could be whisked away by a puff of wind. This was the first day she'd spend with her daughter gone from the world.
And what a glorious morning! The sun had never been so bright, birds never sung so sweet, children's voices never echoed with so much laughter. Soft breezes buffeted about, lofting limbs of trees laden with fall's first fruits. It was an inheritance, a great gift given to the world by some unknown god or blushing goddess of pure heart and gentle spirit. Myrrhine nursed the babies who basked in this afterglow and was nourished herself by the innocent faces pressed against her flesh.
Later, Myrrhine busied herself preparing for the Amphidromia, the ceremony where she'd officially name the children and accept them into the family. The babes would be five days old tomorrow.
By afternoon, the slaves completed rebuilding the roof over one of the chambers in her burned-out home, so she moved there from the smith's quarters, glad to be back in the arms of Eumolpid soil, although it reeked of smoke. She relit the hearth fire in the center of the courtyard, obtaining a new flame from that brought from Delphi, and sacrificed while praying to Hestia, divine mistress of eternal fire. Myrrhine prayed that Hestia restore the family of the Hierophant, "though the father of this flame is imprisoned far across the Aegean." She stood the Hierophant's staff against the fireplace as a symbol of his presence.
Ordinarily, the rest of the family would have been invited to the Amphidromia, but she'd alienated Aeschylus and Hipparete and felt relieved to have the children to herself. That evening, she stacked enough wood on the fire to create a sizeable blaze and sacrificed a swine before the hearth, calling first on Kynegeiros, then divine Demeter and Kore to renew their presence in the home and see to the welfare of the children. She burned, then ground an anklebone from the swine together with a snail. She then unwrapped the swaddling cloths of each child and pulled off the withered umbilical cords, revealing the pink, blood-speckled navels. She molded the thick mixture into two spinning whorls and pressed one into each umbilicus cavity.
She stripped herself and the babes naked and lofted each over her head while running round the fire singing aloud the child's name. Then she held each over the flame as closely as was safe, though they screamed and squalled at the heat, to burn away the pollution of birth.
As she finished rewrapping the swaddling bandages, smelling the fragrant fumes of roast pork on the kitchen fire where she prepared her own feast, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and jumped at Aeschylus' dark form lurking in the shadows.
She stepped between him and the children as he advanced, his dark figure laced with firelight.
"You've performed the Amphidromia without a man officiating?" he asked.
"In the name of the Hierophant."
"He's dead. You and your offspring belong to me."
"He lives. He was taken by the Persians to Sardis. Melaina said as much, even returned with his staff she found on Mykale's far shore. Anaktoria and her mother confirm this."
"A fanciful tale. I saw him die. You found his charred bones here in the Telesterion and buried them yourself."
Myrrhine knew arguing this was futile. "Still, the Amphidromia is finished. I'm Melaina's mother, her children are more mine than yours."
"No true mother exists. Women but incubate men's live seed. Men are the only true begetters, the progenitors of life. Kynegeiros was her only sire."
"A lie! You don't even believe that yourself. This is but Cyclops vision, one-eyed wisdom."
"Melaina was my ward. I'll determine her offspring's fate."
"If you take the children for fathering, I realize that I can't stop you."
"They're not to be raised. Both are polluted. They are but lifeless phantoms and not worth carrying around the hearth."
"You can't believe that. Melaina's epilepsy wasn't something she could pass to them. Why are you doing this? What are you not saying?"
"You'll expose them on Kithaeron's slopes."
"They're healthy. It would be murder." She walked to them, loosened their swaddling clothes. "See for yourself. When I put them upon the earth, they cry with reasonable vigor, not weakly as they would with an unfavorable condition. They're perfect in all members and senses, orifices free from obstruction. Every function is natural, neither sluggish nor weak. The joints bend and stretch, have no undue size or shape. Come here, Lord Aeschylus," she begged, "press a finger against the surface of the body or prick it. See that they suffer pain. These are the ways the ancients taught to determine an infant's worthiness."
"True, but you give only half a method. The ancients also taught that the mother should spend her pregnancy in good health, for sickness also harms the fetus and enfeebles the foundations of life. Melaina suffered a killing epilepsy. Second, they should be born in due time, best at nine months. These two came at eight. An obvious show of weakness. Further, the mother should not overly exert herself. Melaina was beaten and jostled about during the crucial late months. Kallias tells that she wielded the blow that saved his life at Mykale. She witnessed the horrors of the battle's aftermath. No telling the insanity that could produce in the unborn."
"That they survived at all and remain healthy shows their strength, not weakness. Some believe they're divine. The priest of Asklepios at Epidaurus was certain of it. To expose a divine child, two of them, would provoke the wrath of Zeus himself."
"You think this is easy for me.?These are my brother's grandchildren; the male child, his heir. I've affection for them you can't guess. My grief is tenfold yours. I'll hear no more. Expose them."
"But dear Aeschylus, I see now your crossways attitude toward the children is because of my ill manners during Melaina's funeral. Please forgive me. Don't inflict punishment rightfully mine upon the newborn."
"I've spoken. Do my bidding. I rule here."
"Please, hear just this final word. The Mysteries must be reinstated. These children are the only direct descendants of Eumolpus. The male is the only legitimate heir to be Hierophant, the daughter the only one to replace me as priestess of Demeter. All Hellas hangs in the balance. See the wrong of exposing them, Lord Aeschylus. This decision cannot stand. Rule by choosing to be overruled."
"This is but idle chatter. The Mysteries haven't been held for two years, and during this time, we've repulsed the world's mightiest army."
"Dear brother of my beloved Kynegeiros, don't throw away your own sibling's grandchildren. Look!" Myrrhine threw back her wrap to expose her breasts. "The goddess gave me milk. See! My breasts swell with nourishment for the babes. Never did I even think it possible except for a goddess. Hera's milk returned to feed the infant Herakles."
Aeschylus didn't look at her breasts, but turned his back and walked off. "You'll have until tomorrow evening. Give them to a slave to expose on Kithaeron. I warn you. If you try to escape, I'll have all three of you put to the sword."
That night Myrrhine went to bed but couldn't sleep, her grip on the babies so tight that she worried she'd crush them. Many were the names of ancient heroes who'd survived being exposed on Kithaeron's shady slopes. Oedipus had survived to unwittingly kill his father and marry his mother. And Herakles, Greece's greatest hero. Paris, who kidnapped Helen and caused the Trojan War, had been exposed on Mt. Ida.
She cried through the night, getting no sleep, but by morning had a plan. She'd give the children to Kallias. As Dadouchos, he'd understand. She hated to see them become Kerykes, but if it would save their lives, she'd do it. One day they'd be the Hierophant and Priestess of Demeter. Having the sacred officials within the Kerykes had been his one desire. Would he know about the horses? Oh how she wished she'd not been so venomous over Melaina's burial.
The Mysteries, A Novel of Ancient Eleusis Page 88