Dazzling Brightness

by Roberta Gellis

  Chapter 11

  When Demeter appeared in Poseidon’s great hall three days after the winter solstice, the King of the Sea was not particularly overjoyed. He was a frequent enough visitor to Olympus that he was well aware of Demeter’s increasingly comical search for her daughter.

  “Kore is not here,” he said, “and being less guilty than Zeus, I do not need to indulge you by allowing you to turn upside down my house and those of my subjects.”

  “I have not come for that,” Demeter said.

  Poseidon raised his brows to express silently a doubt he was too polite—at the moment—to voice. “Then to what need do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “A refuge for my grief. The temple is a constant reminder of my loss. All Olympus is a constant reminder of my loss. Your realm, surrounded by the sea instead of with mountains, with the waves beating at the foot of your palace, is so different. I wish only to rest here for a time.” She held his eyes steadily and added, “I beg you not to answer me at once, but to give me a private audience so I can explain my need more fully.”

  That steady look was a far cry from the distraught woman who sought what she herself knew could not be found. Poseidon bowed his curly head in agreement and lifted a small shell from the arm of his iridescent, pearl-studded throne. When he blew across it, an exquisite horn-tone sang gently through the room. A very lovely young woman and an old man emerged from behind a curtain that apparently covered an opening in the wall.

  “Go with Nerus and Neso,” he said. “They will show you to a chamber where you can rest. When I am finished with my duties here, I will listen to all you have to say.”

  At that command Nerus led the way to a room where a wide window gave a view of the ocean through rough squares of a substance so clear that Demeter had pulled her cloak tighter around her as they entered in the expectation of a cold wind.

  “What is that?” Demeter asked, staring in amazement. The panels were clearly not crystal. Crystal was never more than a few inches wide and always distorted what one saw through it because it bent the light.

  “I do not know, madam,” Nerus replied. “It is not a fruit of the sea nor of Aegina. The king trades boats full of salt fish for it to King Celeus. One of the sailing men told me Celeus gets it from Hades himself. If so, the king of Plutos seems to have a great appetite for salt fish.”

  “Appetite?” Neso said, with a bubbling laugh. “You could feed all the dead with the amount of fish Poseidon has sent to Celeus—although what the dead might want with fish I cannot understand. Just be careful, madam. Do not tap it or lean on it. It is very fragile, and though fish are plentiful, I think the king would not be pleased to send more boats full to replace what he has paid for already.”

  Demeter nodded, but she paid little attention. Now she remembered that she had seen the substance in the private rooms of Zeus’s palace and been told that Hades made it himself, from white sand. She stood looking at the sea, comforted because she was certain some signal had passed from Poseidon to his servants to make them take her to a place that satisfied the request she had made. And when Nerus gently guided her to a seat that would let her continue looking at the sea, and the girl asked whether she should bring wine and cakes to refresh her, she was further assured.

  She was thus perfectly calm when Poseidon joined her some time later, and smiled as she said, “Thank you, my lord, this is a beautiful place.”

  “Demeter,” Poseidon said, seating himself in a chair opposite to hers, “I do not believe a woman who has cherished a hatred for Zeus all these years and believes she has been hurt anew by him—whether rightly or wrongly—has come here to rest and look at the sea.”

  “You are very wise.” Demeter smiled again. “And you need not protest anew that you do not hold my daughter. I know Kore is not here, but I have proof now—something that was dropped in the place where she disappeared—that Zeus did take her. I am still not sure how he contrived to do it. Perhaps some servant of his carried her off—”

  Poseidon shook his head. “I know Zeus’s faults,” he said, “but I have heard that he said he would not violate his own daughter—and I believe that.”

  “I do too,” Demeter assured him. “That was not his purpose. He wished to control the temple of the Corn Goddess and knew that he could not bend me to his will nor my daughter after me. Well, my daughter is more precious to me than my place in the temple. I have reason to believe that she is hidden among the native people, perhaps in one of the many temples where Zeus is worshipped.”

  Demeter dropped her eyes and bit the inside of her lip to hide her satisfaction. Poseidon had, without saying a single word, given her the best piece of news she had had since Kore had been taken. One brief unguarded expression had exposed to her Poseidon’s resentment of the worship accorded to Zeus.

  Quickly, before he could guess what she had learned, she continued. “I wish to search for my daughter, but I need a safe haven for myself and help in gathering news of her. I know you do not desire any quarrel with Zeus—” A quick glance under lowered lashes showed Demeter how Poseidon stiffened at what might be innocent but also might be an implication he feared his brother, but her voice continued unchecked—”so I will promise to make no outcry against Zeus, even if I find Kore in one of his temples. And I will gladly pay for your help by making your land more fertile. If it is your pleasure, I will train such maidens as I find fit to the service of the Goddess.”

  “You will teach the mystery of the Corn Goddess here in Aegina?”

  Demeter raised her eyes to his and held his gaze. “On the mainland also,” she said. “But only by your order and in such places as you command.” Then she shrugged. “Or not at all, if you will.”

  Poseidon was not as skilled as Zeus at hiding what he felt—he had less need, for he had fewer great mages as subjects—but Demeter saw at once that he was no stupider than Zeus. He had immediately recognized the increase in his influence over the native population if he could grant this or that petty ruler a richer harvest. He saw just as quickly that the increase in his power might bring him into conflict with Zeus. What he did not see, Demeter was certain, was that once she had established a temple, taught a few Gifted native women the rites, and introduced the worship of the Corn Goddess—which would reinforce their half-buried memories of worship of the Mother—there was no way he could undo what she had done.

  Demeter felt a pang of anxiety when Poseidon rose from his chair without any reply, but she continued to meet his eyes and he nodded. “There are too many mixed goods and evils in such a proposal to decide at once. However, you will have no need to wait for me to untangle all of those before I send out for news of what maidens are come into Zeus’s temples since the spring solstice. Meanwhile, you will be welcome to this apartment and to whatever else you need to…ease your heart.”

  In fact, Demeter’s heart was mostly at ease during the weeks that followed. She was in no hurry for news of Kore, since she had convinced herself that driving her from the temple had been the object of Kore’s abductor, rather than harm to or ravishment of her daughter. Poseidon’s messengers were out, she told herself one afternoon when she felt as restless as the heaving sea outside her window. Meanwhile, no harm could come from Kore being confined to a temple of Zeus; doubtless she would have even less freedom than she had had in Olympus and would come to appreciate her mother’s light rein.

  As for Zeus—Demeter smiled slowly, with enormous satisfaction—what a surprise he was about to receive. Doubtless Aglaia and Dorkas would bless the seed and sow it. Aglaia knew the rites and Demeter had taken particular care to instruct Dorkas—to show she had been forgiven for her transgressions with Zeus. But Aglaia, who had the true Gift for enlivening seed, had not enough power. After doing no more than lending a little strength to her high priestess, Aglaia was exhausted. She would kill herself if she tried to fully quicken more than a field or two. And Dorkas had some weak, undefined Gift that Demeter could tap, although not with the sweetness
and rich result of feeding off Kore’s Gift. But Dorkas’s Gift could not of itself quicken seed. The crop that would spring from the earth in Olympus would be so sparse that half the herds would have to be slaughtered for lack of winter fodder, and the people would be belly-pinched. Demeter smiled again and sighed a soft, contented sigh. Zeus would call her back and give her anything she desired to make her come.

  As the time of planting approached, however, Demeter was grateful that she had employment more taxing than looking at the sea from the window. If she had not the task of seeking out Gifted women among Poseidon’s people and teaching the strongest among them the rites that enlivened seed, despair would have been creeping upon her, inducing in her a kind of madness like that which had afflicted her in the last moons in Olympus. A few of Poseidon’s agents had returned to his court and they carried disturbing news. There were no priestesses in Zeus’s temples. Of the four who had come back, three reported no women at all, not even servingwomen. One temple was not so strict and employed a very few old crones who did the washing and suchlike.

  Fortunately, Demeter was finding more difficulty, and more satisfaction, than she had ever expected in instructing the native women. She was surprised at how few women were Gifted until she saw the fear in those in whom she felt a Gift. Then she remembered a conversation she had heard between Hermes and Athena about how stupid the native folk were because they feared and drove out their Gifted.

  It was a nuisance—but also a challenge—to have to teach the women in secret, but all were so fearful of having their Gifts become known that even the promise of assured plenty would not draw them to her openly. Still, Demeter took pleasure in thinking of the many hidden altars to the Goddess. Perhaps when the rich crops were garnered, the women would grow bolder.

  When the blessing and sowing was over, however, Demeter woke one morning, realizing she had had no news from Poseidon for many weeks. Feeling weak and weary, her power depleted from heavy use with weak support during the urgency of planting, she sent word to Nerus with the girl who brought her breakfast that she wished to speak to Poseidon immediately. Nerus urged her to wait, saying that Poseidon had duties, but when Demeter cried she had been used and would depart if she were no longer welcome to Poseidon, Nerus bowed.

  “Come then,” he said, shrugging. “Wise words seldom change what will be. The king is still abed, but he has given orders that you are welcome to him at any time.”

  Demeter was so sure she would be led to some ante-chamber and bidden to wait, that her anger was much diminished when Nerus brought her directly to Poseidon’s bedchamber. The sheer astonishment she felt at the appearance of the room also left little room for rage. Fully one half of the floor was a pool of water, out of which rose a wide set of curved stairs that seemed to be made of mother-of-pearl of a remarkable luminosity, all washed with pale pink and blue and green and gold. A graceful chair of polished bone inlaid with varicolored coral stood at one side of the topmost step, which extended into a platform.

  Facing the pool but back from the low wall that surrounded the top step and kept out the water, stood Poseidon’s bed. He was, in fact, still in it, propped up by pillows against the inner curve of what looked like an enormous conch shell. Its interior, of gleaming blue-green nacre, made a dramatic background for his dark curls and warm brown skin. Beside the bed a confusion of bright garments betrayed that there had been another occupant who had left with more haste than dignity.

  Shock and appreciation of the truly unusual beauty of the room notwithstanding, Demeter could not be polite. “What has become of your messengers?” she asked.

  “They have all returned,” Poseidon replied calmly. “I am sorry, there is no good news. There is simply no possibility of any girl even distantly like Kore hiding in any temple of Zeus. It seemed useless to break your heart each time one of my men returned.”

  “None of the temples have priestesses?”

  “None. We should have realized that. It is perfectly logical that Zeus’s temples should not have priestesses. To gather women together would only attract Hera’s attention and make it impossible for him to enjoy them. Why should he bother with priestesses anyway? He has the Gift of disguise and can approach any woman he desires in any form. Women in his temples would only be a temptation to him and to his priests and give them a reputation for lasciviousness.”

  Demeter’s hands rose and clasped beneath her bosom. “I was so sure,” she breathed. She shuddered and her eyes widened. “Where is she? Where? I was not afraid for her before, but if Zeus does not have her—but he must! I have proof…”

  “Sit down, Demeter!” Poseidon’s voice was sharp enough to check her rising hysteria. “There are other places to look, but my men did not confine their questions to temples and I am beginning to have doubts about whether Zeus does hold your daughter. What is this proof you say you have?”

  “A flower-jewel, just like those Zeus gave to Hera, was found where Kore was last seen. No one else in Olympus has ever had—

  This time it was Poseidon’s eyes that widened. Demeter stopped speaking when she saw the effect her words had on him.

  “No one in Olympus,” Poseidon said. “But Hades himself might have as many such toys as Zeus or more.”

  “No!” Demeter cried. “Hades would not take a living girl into the realms of the dead.”

  “But Hades is not himself dead,” Poseidon pointed out. “Perhaps he does not like, or cannot be satisfied by, the embraces of spirits.”

  “No! No! I will not believe it. Kore is not dead!”

  “I did not say she was dead. Did I not just point out to you that Hades is not dead? Unfortunately.”

  “I will not believe that my poor Kore, my bright and beautiful Kore, has been imprisoned among the cold shades for a whole year,” Demeter wailed.

  Poseidon snorted with contempt. “You can refuse to believe that Hades holds her if you like,” he said, “but I am beginning to think that is the only answer. Moreover, two of my men brought back hints that Hades has taken a bride, a tall, golden woman called Persephone, which in the old language means Dazzling Brightness.”

  “You never told me that!”

  “I did not think much about it before you mentioned the jewel-flower. Why should I think that Hades was in any way involved? And the woman did not sound anything like what you told me of Kore. The only thing they had in common was being blonde—” He hesitated and pursed his lips, then added, “But that is a real rarity among native women. I should have realized Hades’s bride must be an Olympian. Beyond the fact that she is almost as tall as Hades and blonde, what is said of this Persephone is that she is truly Queen of Plutos and that Hades bows to her will.”

  Demeter wrung her hands. “That does not sound like Kore. I cannot imagine her ruling the harsh King of the Dead. But—but she is tall.” Her voice faltered. “I think of her as little, because she is my little girl…only a little girl…”

  Poseidon frowned. “Little girl? But Kore must be more than twenty winters of age.”

  “Not so much as that!” Demeter exclaimed. But then she burst into tears. “That was why Zeus said I could look for her where and as long as I pleased. He knew! Dorkas told him when my poor Kore would be alone and vulnerable and he told…Hades…” She shuddered. “Poseidon, you must go to Hades. You are his brother. Ask for my daughter back. I will do anything for you. Anything!”

  “I cannot do that, Demeter. That is the bond among Zeus, Hades, and me. We each have our place and our power and we do not interfere with each other, Kore is Zeus’s daughter as well as yours. He has the right to demand that Hades return her. I have not.”

  “But Zeus helped Hades take her. You know he would not ask for her return. What can I offer you—

  “Nothing!” Poseidon would not meet her eyes. “I will give you what help I can—a ship to take you where you will, silver or even gold to buy servants and favor—but I cannot myself approach Hades.”

  “Who can approach Hades if you ca
nnot?” Demeter sobbed. “What can gold buy from Hades, who has possession of all the gold and jewels under the earth? Where can I go in a ship?”

  “That I can tell you,” Poseidon said, “You can take a ship to Eleusis. The king, whose name is Celeus, claims there are caves not far from his palace where the dead can be called and will answer if sacrifice is made. Ask there for your daughter.”

  “Ask!” Demeter cried, eyes wild. “What good will that do?”

  “The dead do not lie,” Poseidon replied, his voice hard. “You will at least know whether or not Persephone was once Kore. I have done all I can for you, Demeter. I will do no more.”

  Self-absorbed as she was, Demeter had an excellent sense of self-preservation. Something in the tenseness of Poseidon’s body and the quality of his voice pierced through her anguish and warned her that she was treading very dangerous ground. She suspected that if she pressed him further to deal with Hades on Kore’s behalf that he would send her away and dissociate himself from her completely. Poseidon was jealous of Zeus and cautious of arousing his ire, but he had been willing to send his own men to make inquiries about the workings of Zeus’s temples. Hades was apparently far more threatening to the King of the Sea.

  “Very well,” Demeter said. “If I must go alone, I will. When—”

  Her question about when a ship could be ready to take her was interrupted by an eruption of the water in the pool. A huge bubble formed and burst to show the sleek black head and crazy smile of a sharp-nosed porpoise. It chittered at Poseidon and he cocked his head and rose from the bed.

  “I must go now,” he said hurriedly, striding across to the pool. Poised to dive in, he said over his shoulder, “I may be long away. Nerus will provide you with whatever you think you might need.”