Demeter's Gold

by Meghan Ray

  He had been walking away from the Acropolis, down a narrow street, when he was grabbed from behind and pushed against a doorway. His face was pressed into the wooden door and the arm around his neck was choking off his air supply. He was really getting sick of people sneaking up on him from behind. He took a ragged breath as though he was losing the fight for air and then let go of his knees. He slumped back against his attacker as though he had passed out. Using the moment the man needed to adjust to the new weight, Phil let himself slip downward and then bracing against the door with his free arm, he drove his elbow back and up into the diaphragm of his assailant.

  The force of the blow sent the man sprawling backward. He hit the opposite wall with a crunch and then came rushing back. Phil was ready and taking advantage of the man’s own forward momentum, he first tripped and then pushed him into the wooden doorway. The man hit the door with a crack. He slumped against the wood for a moment and slid to the ground. Phil checked to make sure that this wasn’t a trick, then he pulled the man out and away from the door and laid him flat on the road.

  He was a big, ugly brute with a scar from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth. He groaned as Phil pressed his boot against his neck. Phil smiled genially, “Who sent you?”

  The man grunted and shook his head.

  “What’s that?” Phil asked, still pleasantly.

  The man shook his head again and Phil put a little weight onto the thick neck.

  “You’re going to have to tell me something sometime, so why waste the day? The faster you tell me who sent you, the faster you’ll be on your way back to whatever hole you came from.”

  He looked at the man again, trying to tell whether this was one of the men who had followed him the day he had received the coin. He couldn’t be sure. Some interested passers-by were starting to gather at the mouth of the narrow street and Phil knew that his time was limited. He didn’t want to press any harder on his neck for fear that he would lose consciousness and yet he knew that without the real threat of force he had little to persuade this man who was clearly used to violence both given and taken.

  Phil took his boot from the man’s neck and stepped back. He made his best indifferent shrug, “Okay, you win. I hope they don’t kill you when they find out I’m all right and everything. Sometimes they take that kind of thing the wrong way. You know I might have donated some money or something, to help make a fresh start. I hope your friends are as thoughtful.”

  For a second, it seemed that he might have given scar face something to think about. He propped himself up on his elbows and he seemed to be considering his options. Either that or he was just resting on his way up. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, Phil heard a whoosh pass his ear and, just like that, his new friend had a crossbow bolt through his neck. Phil ducked back into the doorway and then craning his neck, he tried to see up to the roof in the direction the bolt had come.

  Whoever had fired the weapon was gone, there was no one visible on the opposite roof now. He felt a little bad, leaving the man lying in the street but he knew there was nothing he could do to help him and he was anxious not to waste any more time. He walked, unhurried, down the alley in the opposite direction from the gathering crowd. They were starting to realize something was wrong and were tentatively beginning to make their way toward the body.

  Phil didn’t hesitate as he walked away. He was tired of letting things happen; this time he wanted to be the one to make things happen. He decided that he was going to Eleusis right now. He called up some favors and borrowed a horse from a friend of a friend, then left the city through the Dipylon gate. He rode quickly so he could make the four-league journey before nightfall.

  Strangely, Phil found his trip scenic. At first, he had ridden hard across the plain to the hills west of the city, but then he slowed to rest his horse and pick his way through the hill-pass and finally made his way out to the sea, enjoying the landscape and the warm smells of the countryside. Not without irony, he reflected that he was following the Sacred Way. This was the path followed by the worshippers of Demeter during her festival. He hoped that the goddess would see fit to keep him safe, at least long enough to return her coin.

  From the pass, he rode, with the coast on his left, north and, almost unwilling, he felt the sea breeze and blue sky lighten his mood. He loved to ride and had done since childhood. His Lydian family considered horsemanship to be as important to a young man’s education as Homer or the lyre. So he let himself be distracted by the horse and the scenery and didn’t dwell on his reason for making the trip or what he might happen to him once he arrived.

  He came around the point to Eleusis at dusk. Dim lights showed through the doorways of the few homes he passed as he made his way to the town center. Eleusis was a small, dusty town distinguished only because it was sacred to Demeter and home to her most important festival.

  The old story went that Demeter had lost her daughter Persephone to Hades, the lord of the underworld, who had abducted her while she was out picking flowers. Persephone was forced to go and live with him under ground and Demeter, grieving for her loss, came to Eleusis in the form of a mortal. To pass the time while she kept the world in eternal winter, she made her living as a nanny to a local prince. She became fond of the boy and, missing her own child, she undertook to make him immortal.

  During the long and complex process, her identity was discovered and, after she had revealed herself to the hapless mortals and scared them witless, she ordered that a temple be built for her worship. It was the best thing that could have happened to the small town. The cult was incredibly popular throughout Greece, drawing thousands of visitors each year. It even allowed some foreign initiates, provided they could speak Greek. The ability to speak the Greek language, in addition to being currently free from the stain of murder, was the not very stringent qualification for cult membership.

  In Boedromion, in late September, the cult members would gather to celebrate the festival. During this time, there was much proceeding between Athens and Eleusis, dragging sacred objects back and forth but eventually they were all supposed to end up back here.

  The small city was packed during the festival. The inn Phil had chosen to spend the night would be full to overflowing during the mystery rites, charging outrageous prices for a pallet on the not very clean floor. But at this time of year it was almost deserted. He rented a room for the night, ate the makeshift meal that was offered with good appetite if not with actual enjoyment and drank plenty of wine. He flirted with the serving girl, avoided conversation with the locals, and then went to bed early.

  He was exhausted from his long ride. Between his exertions on the road and the fresh air, he slept remarkably well. He rose early, and after a quick meal of bread, cheese and honey prepared by the sleepy innkeeper in exchange for a tip, he went to find the Hierophant of the temple at Eleusis.

  The priest of the complex had inherited his position. It was traditionally a benefit for Eumolpidai family and, as part of said benefit, he was allowed to live in the temple complex. Phil walked into the mostly deserted compound unchallenged. He went in through the gates of the outer walls and across a temple court. The Great Hall of Mysteries, or Telesterion, was the centerpiece of the temple complex. Pericles had had the grand temple rebuilt after the earlier building was destroyed during the Persian war.

  It was about fifty meters square and rather magnificent, with terraces that allowed the cult initiates to watch the ceremonies. Phil went inside and waited as his eyes adjusted to the light of the torches that were mounted on the walls. He looked across the long shadows cast by the pillars that filled the inside of the hall. He found the man he was seeking without any trouble. The priest was conferring with a young attendant, fussing with some stuff, probably ritual objects. He was standing near his throne, just outside of the anaktoron, the secret inner temple that only he was allowed to enter. Phil went up to the man and the boy, who turned together in surprise at the intrusion. The priest was
the first to recover and, careful of his dignity, he composed his face in a serene but slightly superior smile. “What are you doing here, young man? We are not allowing worshippers today.”

  “I am not visiting the temple as an initiate, sir,” Phil knew that, in that case, he should not be inside at all and pushed on quickly to stem tide of the lecture he felt coming on. “I have something that belongs to the cult and I wish to return it.”

  The priest furrowed his brow, “What could you possibly have?” Phil didn’t answer; he just held the coin out toward the priest and watched as it glittered in the half-light of the great hall.

  “Where did you get that?” The priest raised his voice, doing his best to make the reedy sound thunder through the hall. He did, in fact, succeed in startling the boy who had been standing near him. Earlier, as he walked over to the temple that morning, Phil had been working on a theory where the priest had given the coin to Xenodora himself, in payment for services rendered. Now that he had met the man in person, he dismissed his idea. He had noticed the way the man looked at his young companion. “Oh well”, he thought to himself, as he discarded his theory, “if it had been true, in some ways it would have made things much more difficult.”

  The priest cleared his throat impatiently and Phil decided to answer the question briefly. “It is a long story.” The priest, clearly not satisfied with the answer, gestured impatiently for Phil to go on. “Let’s say that I got it from a man who got it from someone else who got it as a gift. No one knew what it was at first, but once that became clear, the owner wished to return it immediately, of course.”

  The priest’s irritation grew visibly with each word of the lame story. “No, that is simply not good enough. This coin is one of our most sacred objects. I have to know how it happens to be bandied about, first in the hands of this one and then that one. It is a sin!” He raised his voice again.

  Phil nodded his head in agreement and said, “I wish I could be more help to you, sir. I really do. But I have told you most of what I know and, without my knowing who gave the coin as a gift in the first place, which I don’t; the trail is a dead end. There isn’t any more I can do for you, except return the coin and be on my way.”

  The priest, upset though he was, seemed to recognize that there was some sense in what Phil was telling him. He shook his head sadly. For the first time, Phil noticed the fatigue that lined the man’s face and the circles under his eyes.

  He spoke quietly this time. “You don’t understand. I suppose you couldn’t be expected to. This is not the first coin to disappear. Demeter holds only about one hundred of these coins and they are at the very heart of our mysteries. Not only do they play an important role in the great procession, and in the ceremonies that follow, they are sacred to Demeter herself. For one hundred years and more, they have been safe with the hierophant. It is one of our chief duties to guard the sacred possessions of the goddess. They should have stayed with me and they would have, if I had had my way.

  But, unfortunately our cult has its political side. Repeated requests were made that the coins be moved to Athens, to the Eleusinium, to show the ties between the two temples and acknowledge the brotherhood between them. Truth be told it was a gesture meant to reaffirm the power that the temple and priest in Athens have over those of Eleusis and a lot of pressure was brought to bear.

  Nevertheless, the treasures are my responsibility and I should never have given in. It makes me sick to think of it. At first I refused, but influence was exerted, and in the end the coins were sent to Athens. This was about a month ago. They promised me the coins would be kept at the Eleusinium and that they would return with the other hiera, our cult objects, in the formal procession from Athens to Eleusis. Right away, I started to receive reports that the coins were seen here and there in the possession of those who should never have held them.”

  The priest paused to mop his brow and take a drink of water, “Members had heard rumors, you know the kind of thing, nothing specific enough to take action. But I was concerned. Then I was informed that, since the coins had arrived in Athens, six or more of them had disappeared. It was the last straw. I was at my wits end and didn’t know what to do. Two weeks ago, I sent an envoy, my assistant and trusted friend, to Athens to try and discover what was going on. He was missing for a few days and then he turned up, dead, in a ditch. Now I am at a complete loss. I am unwilling to risk the lives of anyone else. Then you show up. This is the first coin to be recovered and I must know more about it. You can understand that, certainly.”

  Out loud, Phil said that, while he could understand the Hierophant’s difficulty, and was, of course, most sympathetic, there was unfortunately nothing he personally could do or add to what was already being done. But, even while saying all that, inside, he was cursing the priest and everyone else who had conspired to make sure that, no matter what he tried, he would never be clear of these cursed coins. He knew he would have to help the priest, although he didn’t see exactly why.

  The priest, who was an astute judge of human nature, allowed himself the smallest of grins and listened patiently to Phil, waiting for his rejection to turn to resigned acceptance. Phil found himself winding up by saying that the priest could clearly see that no more could be learned here in Eleusis, that any further investigation into the matter would obviously have to be carried out in Athens and that plainly the next step would be to visit the priest of the Eleusinium there.

  “Are you going back to Athens then?” the priest inquired innocently. Phil nodded in resignation. The man raised his arms in a gesture of supplication, “Could you just stop in and see what you think? I know it’s a lot to ask but I haven’t anywhere else to turn at the moment. I feel as if Demeter herself sent you here to help us.”

  As mentioned, Phil was not a particularly religious man when it came to Demeter but he always felt that it was better to show respect to the gods when possible. “I will stop by the temple and see if I can find anything out, but you understand that I can’t make any promises. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  The priest nodded gratefully, “That will be quite satisfactory, nothing in life comes with a guarantee.” Then for the first time, he really smiled, pleased and satisfied with the outcome of the interview.

  Phil felt warm and fuzzy for a couple of minutes. Then he felt his headache return with the weight of the new responsibility as he made his way out of the temple. He had been played again. He had to learn to stop being such a patsy or everyone in town would be lining up for favors.

  Yet, once again Phil enjoyed his ride. The way back to Athens was just as pleasant as the trip to Eleusis had been. Even though he was still involved with the coin, he no longer actually possessed it and that indicated to him that some progress was being made. Now that he was free of it, he realized how oppressed he had been by the weight of the coin and how it had almost physically weighed him down. Now that he was rid of it, he felt lighter. Perhaps that had been the power of Demeter, protecting her hiera. He didn’t doubt that the goddess had the power.

  In any case, Phil was lighthearted and cheerful for the ride back to the city. He hoped that whoever was chasing him would correctly interpret his absence and that they would realize that he no longer had the coin. It might not matter to them, he knew. He had seen their henchman, his old friend Scarface, shot through the neck with an arrow just to keep him from having a few minutes of casual conversation. Still, it might prove impractical for them to kill everyone involved with this business. Bodies do start to pile up, even in Athens.

  He hoped that they would assume that, without the coin, he presented no further threat to them; which was true, more or less, at least until he knew whom he was dealing with. His worst experiences in the army were always about waiting for the unknown. As soon as you knew the worst, you could deal with it.

  He had seen plenty of men, brave men who were able to face a charging army without batting an eyelash, broken while patrolling a marsh at night, frightened by the unkn
own sounds and lights of the wasteland. Alone, in marsh-reeds higher than a man’s head, surrounded by unfamiliar night sounds, these men invented evils much worse than anything they would ever have to face in real life.

  Phil kept this in mind as he rode, careful not to give his undiscovered enemies more power than they actually had. All very well in theory but, as he rode through the gates of the city, he felt the sense of well being that he had on the trip replaced by wariness and unease.

  -8-

  The city was swarming as usual. Carts full of produce and fish, goods from everywhere, all vied for space with women carrying water and children playing. Space was at a premium in the narrow streets and Phil made his way slowly and carefully to return the horse. Then he went to the barber for news and a shave. Then he went to his gymnasium. He walked through the baths and then the playing areas until he found a man he knew could help him. The two men disappeared together into a small room and within a few minutes, Phil reappeared, exchanging about twenty drachmas worth of fine clothing for the humble rags of a servant. He now appeared to be some house slave out on an errand. He made one more stop at the market, and then he walked over to Leonidas’s for dinner.

  He was still unwilling to put his friend and friend’s family in jeopardy if he could help it but he needed good advice and good ideas and he needed them fast. Leonidas was smart, he was loyal and, most importantly, he was an initiate in the rites of Demeter, in fact he was initiated into the highest levels of the cult. Phil knew his friend would not be able to share any information concerning the actual rites, to do so would be to invite the death penalty. But, Phil thought, perhaps he could shed some light on the politics of the cult and the very human powers that were vying for control. Leonidas would know the players and their personalities in a way Phil would not.