LA01. The Crown of Zeus

by Christine Norris

  The square itself was bounded by buildings on three sides. Some were shops—one that sold clay pots, another was hung with rugs, and a third that displayed brass goblets and plates. There was also what looked like a school. Men and boys came in and out, dressed in long chitons and carrying wax tablets.

  The fourth side of the square was blocked by wooden pens. Sheep and goats bleated miserably inside as they wandered about. Buyers leaned against the fence and pointed at the ones they wanted to purchase, haggling with the seller over the price. The air of the market was heavy with the scent of food cooking—Megan smelled falafel and hummus—plus animal waste and the smell of people packed close together.

  As they followed Jason through the throng, Megan noticed the few women she saw were older, middle-aged at least, and all were in the company of a man—a husband, brother, or chaperone. Except for herself and her friends, she saw no young women or girls anywhere. A pack of boys, not yet old enough for school, ran freely through the square, chasing a scared-looking dog. Most of the people in the market didn’t pay any attention to the four girls; if they did they looked away when they saw Jason.

  I guess equality for women hadn’t been invented yet, Megan thought. I thought the Greeks were supposed to be this progressive culture?

  They passed through the center of the square, and the crowd pressed in on them. Megan’s chest felt tight. She tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t. The air was too warm, the square too dusty, the smell overpowering.

  “Are you all right?” Rachel said. “You don’t look so well.”

  Megan nodded, although her stomach said she was a liar. She tried to concentrate on getting away; she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. She was going to pass out.

  They were through. The Agora was behind them, with it the crowd. Megan relaxed and breathed easier. That had been awful. She never liked tight places, but never had they affected her so badly.

  On this side of the market the streets were steeper, and the temple closer. The buildings were decidedly residential, packed close together, like the rowhomes of New York, where one wall served two houses. The streets were dirtier; so were the residents.

  It was a harder climb than it looked. By the time they had reached the top, Megan was breathing heavily, and she was thankful it wasn’t a sunny day. Her friends were in similar shape—Harriet was the color of a cooked lobster, and Rachel and Claire each had sweat running down her face.

  Harriet sat on a low wall. “It…doesn’t…look…that…steep…from…the bottom.”

  Rachel wiped her face on her chiton. “You can…say that again.”

  “I don’t think I have…the energy…to say it again,” Harriet said.

  “Here is where I leave you.” Jason didn’t look the least bit strained by his efforts up the hill, but he did look amused at the girls’ discomfort. “The entrance to the temple is over there.” He pointed behind them. “Good day.” The boy turned on his heel and walked away.

  “Well, thanks,” Megan called after him. For nothing, you jerk.

  Jason didn’t even turn his head.

  “What was his problem, do you think?” Rachel said.

  Megan shrugged. “Maybe he had a hot date today and we made him miss it.”

  Rachel, Claire and Harriet laughed. Megan joined in; it felt like a real friend moment.

  The temple loomed over them. It was a long, rectangular building with a peaked roof. Columns marched around the perimeter, holding up the roof’s edge. In the front, just below the peak, was a group of marble statues. It looked like the front of a museum or a courthouse. Megan looked at them closely.

  “That’s the birth of Athena,” she said. “You can see where she’s coming out of Zeus’s head.”

  “I still think that’s disgusting,” Harriet said.

  The temple looked clean and new, a far cry from the ruin it was in their world. Megan wondered how long it had been since anyone actually saw it like this, whole and beautiful, before she remembered that this one wasn’t real anyway. Thousands of years?

  She stood and stretched. No sense in waiting any longer. “You guys ready?”

  They walked across the wide, paved courtyard in front of the temple. A light drizzle fell, painting the stone with polka dots. They climbed the steps and walked between the two center columns in front. There was a second set of columns behind the first. High above the girls was one of the famous friezes of the Parthenon—marble panels with relief carvings of Greek men and women.

  Claire’s head was back so far Megan was certain it would fall off. She whistled. “Sir Gregory really did his homework. Most of the originals are in pieces in the British museum. These are beautiful.”

  “He was an archaeologist, and this was his favorite time,” Megan said. “And he loved Athena. I’m sure he took a lot of time making sure this part was just right. However he, you know, made them, or whatever.”

  They left the frieze behind and went to a pair of huge double doors. They were closed.

  Harriet leaned in close to the other girls. “What do we do once we’re inside?”

  “Don’t know,” Rachel said. “I guess we’ll just have to look around.”

  Claire took off her glasses and wiped them on her chiton. “I’m a bit afraid. Nervous, I mean. We don’t have any idea what we’re walking into. Sir Gregory could have put any number of traps or tricks in our path.”

  “I think we’re all nervous.” Megan certainly was; her throat felt like she had swallowed a desert. “But we’ve been through so much already.” She thought of the strength of the strand of silk, and what the woman on the hill said about the bonds of friendship. She wondered how much she had strained those bonds, and hoped that, like the silk, they weren’t broken.

  Rachel reached out and clasped Megan’s hand. Megan grabbed Claire’s and Claire grabbed onto Harriet. Harriet took hold of the brass rings set into one of the doors and pulled. With hands linked, they entered the temple.

  It was dark and cool inside. Megan heard birds chirping somewhere above her head, looking for shelter from the rain. People milled about. The temple was crowded, but Megan thought it still felt lonely, like a gallery at the Metropolitan Museum. A hundred people could be in there, and yet she always felt alone with the paintings.

  Within the crowd were several women who wore light blue veils like the ones that Theseus had given them—priestesses. Megan’s eyebrows lifted. Many of them were not much older than she was, and some looked younger.

  “You four,” a man’s voice said from beside them. “Stop.”

  Megan turned. Two Guardians approached the girls from within the crowd, each wearing a short, metal-plated skirt and blue tunic. Over their tunics was a metal breastplate with an owl embossed in the center, and a helmet with a strange animal depicted on each side. It looked like a winged lion, but with a strange head. Each carried a long spear, which he pointed at the girls.

  “Who are you?” one said. “You need permission to enter.”

  Megan pulled out the medallion and showed it to the guards. “We are guests of Prince Theseus.”

  The other guard leaned down and looked at the necklace. He nodded to his companion, and they both lowered their spears. “Fine.”

  The girls pushed past the guards. “Hey, look over there,” Rachel said, and elbowed Megan in the ribs. She pointed to a large stone dish on a three-footed stand. A woman stood next to it. She put something inside the dish. She was not a priestess; her dark hair was uncovered and piled on top of her head, strands of small beads woven through it. When she finished, she put a torch to the contents of the dish. It blazed briefly, and the flames settled to the bottom. The woman replaced the torch and turned to face the girls.

  “Diona,” Megan said a bit too loudly. Her voice echoed, and several people turned their heads, disapproving looks on their faces. Megan covered her mouth, embarrassed. Diona saw them and smiled.

  “I am happy to see you, my friends,” she said.

 
“What are you doing here?” Rachel asked.

  “I have come to thank Athena for delivering me safely from the Minotaur.” She pointed to the dish. “I have made my offering, now I will go to the shrine and meditate.”

  “How nice,” Harriet said. “Don’t let us keep you.”

  Megan knew Harriet didn’t want to dawdle, but real or not, Diona was nice. There was no need to be rude. She didn’t say anything to Harriet, just gave Diona a smile. “Yes, we do have our own sacrifice to make.”

  “It was good to see you again, though,” Rachel added. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will ask Athena to watch over you, my rescuers.” With a small bow, she turned and walked to the other end of the temple.

  Rachel put the basket beside the still-simmering dish. “I guess this is where we put the offerings, then.” She took the lid off the basket and pulled out a bunch of grapes, a bundle of wheat and a small clay jar. She handed the grapes and wheat to Harriet, who threw them into the fire. She took the lid off the jar and smelled the contents. Megan cocked an eyebrow.

  “Olives.” Rachel tipped the jar and emptied it into the dish. Olive oil dripped out, and the flames shot up. Rachel jumped back, her hand clutched to her chest. “Whoops. Almost got singed a bit, there, didn’t I?”

  Claire looked into the basket. “All that’s left in there is the veils. What do we do with it?”

  “I think we should just carry it,” Megan said. “We don’t have anywhere to hide the veils, and I think it will look suspicious if we don’t take the basket with us. If we find the crown, we’ll need something to put it in, right? I don’t know what will happen after we find it.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t really want to lug this thing around all day. Harriet, you carry it for a while.”

  Harriet glared at Rachel, hand on her hip. “Why does everyone assume I’ll do anything they tell me to?”

  “Please?” Rachel held out the basket.

  “Oh, all right,” Harriet huffed. “If it will get us out of here faster.” She took the basket and clomped away. Megan, Claire and Rachel hurried after her.

  In the center of the room, toward the back, stood another set of columns; they formed a small rectangle near the back wall—a room within a room. They stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a fifteen-foot tall, gold and ivory statue of Athena. The Goddess of Civilized War, she held spear in one hand, shield in the other. Tendrils of ivory hair framed her face. She was full-lipped, with a long but graceful nose. She wore a compassionate, almost loving, expression.

  “It’s beautiful,” Rachel said. “She’s so, you know, beautiful.”

  “The virgin goddess,” Claire said. “She belonged to no one but herself.”

  Megan gazed at the statue. She was so strong, so sure of herself. I’ll bet she would have been able to lead her friends out of danger in a snap. She would have protected them. And I’ll bet she didn’t get her friends sucked into a book that had the potential to kill them in multiple, disgusting ways.

  She wondered if goddesses had friends.

  People clustered around the base of the statue. Some spoke praises and requests aloud, some knelt in quiet meditation. One barrel-chested man, with just a fringe of dark hair on the sides of his head, laid a gold pitcher on the small pile of precious offerings at the goddess’s feet.

  Outside, the drizzle had turned to a downpour. Thunder rumbled through the temple like a kettle drum. Priestesses moved around the shrine, keeping the torches lit. Megan, Rachel, Harriet and Claire skirted around the statue. In the wall behind it was a small door. While Harriet and Rachel kept watch, Megan and Claire pulled the door open and peeked inside.

  “What’s in there?” Rachel said softly.

  “Stuff,” Megan said.

  “What kind of stuff?” Harriet said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “It looks like the treasury,” Claire said. “Where the priestesses keep all the stuff left at the foot the statue.”

  “Do you think the crown is in there?” Rachel asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” Megan took a step toward the door. Claire caught her by the arm and stopped her.

  “What?” Megan said.

  “We can’t just walk in. Only priestesses are allowed in, I think.”

  Megan looked around. No one was watching them; the girls were hidden well behind the statue, in the shadows. But, as usual, Claire was probably right.

  “Of course, yeah. We should put the veils on.”

  “Open that basket, Harriet,” Rachel said.

  Properly disguised under their veils, they snuck into the treasury. The room was much smaller than the outer gallery, and was stuffed with shiny objects—gold, silver, bronze. The light from the torches made the treasures glow with an eerie light. Two young priestesses glanced at the girls on their way back into the shrine, but said nothing. The disguises seemed work.

  “I think we should each pick a corner and work your way toward the middle,” Rachel said.

  Megan picked through golden plates, jewel-encrusted chalices and bronze statues. She found something that looked like a crown, but it was only a shallow pot. The four girls met in the middle of the room.

  “Anything?” Rachel said.

  Claire and Harriet shook their heads. “Not a thing,” Claire said. “It’s not here. If it is, we didn’t find it.”

  “What do we do now?” Rachel said. “There’s nowhere else to look.”

  Megan looked at the ceiling and gnawed on her lower lip. “Everything so far has been hard. It wouldn’t be left right out in the open, not even in a pile like this.”

  “Right. Sir Gregory would want to make us work for it, like he has since the beginning,” Claire said. “So what are we missing? We followed all the clues. There has to be something else.”

  But there wasn’t another clue to be found.

  “Now what do we do?” Rachel said, her hands on her hips. “Go back to the Acropolis? Go back to the cave? Did we read the clue wrong?”

  “If we did, I don’t know what else it could mean,” Claire said.

  “Great. So we’re stuck,” Harriet said. “Bully that. This is ridiculous.”

  It was just too much for Megan. They didn’t know which way to go; maybe there was no way out. Her knees gave way, and she knelt on the floor, her face in her hands. She couldn’t believe it would end here, and they’d be stuck in this book forever.

  And it’s all my fault.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears flooded down her face.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie,” Rachel said. She put her arm around Megan’s shoulder. “What are you sorry for?”

  “I’m sorry I got you all into this. I’m sorry you’re all in so much danger. Harriet, you were almost eaten by a Minotaur, and I made Rachel ride on Pegasus when she didn’t really want to. I’m terrible at figuring out the clues. We might never, ever get out of here, and I’m sorry. About…everything.”

  “Oh. That,” Rachel said softly. “Where is all this coming from? It certainly wasn’t your fault. I opened the book, right? And you were right to make me get on that flying beast. You saved Harriet and Claire from the sea-monster. You killed the sea-monster.”

  “That was your idea.”

  “But I was scared to death. You did it. And don’t forget who cut off Medusa’s head. I couldn’t have done it.”

  “Yes, you could have.” They were trying to make her feel better. It wasn’t really working. The fact is, if she had been sucked into this book by herself, she wouldn’t have made it past the first task. She knew it.

  That’s what having friends means—they’re there to help you when you need it.

  That was her mother’s voice in her head. She had said that to Megan a week before she died.

  Yeah, but they don’t need me, Megan thought. They’ll get along just fine without me once we’re out of here. I certainly wouldn’t stay friends with someone who almost got me killed.

  Harriet leaned down and hu
gged Megan tight. “You saved me from being eaten by that bull-thing. You’re wonderful.”

  Megan wiped the tears from her face. “But if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have been in that cave in the first place.”

  Harriet smiled. “No, that was Rachel’s fault.”

  “Thanks, Harriet,” Rachel said. “Thanks a lot.”

  “And you didn’t chain me to that rock either,” Harriet said.

  “But you even said so, Harriet, it’s all my fault we’re here.”

  Harriet hesitated. “But I was under the influence of Pandora’s box. You can’t listen to anything I said then. I told you I was sorry.”

  “And if I hadn’t been so bent on trying to impress you, we wouldn’t have gone looking for that stupid library in the first place,” Megan said.

  “Are you kidding?” Rachel said. “That was the most fun I’ve had in years. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. This adventure, while a bit more dangerous, has been a blast. And you don’t need to impress me.”

  “Come on, now, no more tears,” Claire said. “The fact is, we wouldn’t have made it this far without you. You’re a hero.” She reached down and helped Megan to her feet. “So come on, let’s finish this.”

  Megan dried her tears on her chiton. She felt a little better, but also stupid she had broken down like that. She took a deep breath, glanced around the room again and shook her head “Well, I don’t have any ideas. This is worse than trying to decipher that poem.”

  Rachel gave Megan a pointed look. “What did you say?”

  “I said that this is worse—”

  Before she could finish, Rachel walked to the back wall and ran her hands over it.

  “What?” Harriet asked. “What’s it? What are you doing?”

  Rachel waved her friends closer. “The poem. It made me think about Sir Gregory’s diary. That passage about his excavation of the Parthenon.”

  Megan vaguely remembered reading it, again wished she had paid more attention. “And?”

  Rachel closed her eyes. “I’m trying to remember what it was exactly. It had something to do with digging under the temple. He found a tunnel, and a door with an inscription, remember? He thought something amazing was behind it. It didn’t say what it was, but what do you want to bet that’s where he found the crown.”