CHAPTER 7: The Oracle from Delphi
The following day, her mother pulled Melaina from the chaos of evacuation and took her to the Hierophant. They found him in the library overseeing a scribe. Melaina's grandfather was castigating the man over the quality of his letters and left-out words, but changed his tone when he saw Melaina. He took the women to the temple of Demeter, the Telesterion, where she'd been initiated five years before. At ten, she'd been the youngest ever to witness the epiphany. They passed the altars of Demeter and Kore on the way and walked through the guarded entry. "Need a little privacy for important matters," he told the guards. Inside the Telesterion, they picked a path through the forest of columns, footsteps echoing. During the yearly initiation ceremony, three thousand initiates sat on the stair-stepping stone seats that lined the walls.
Melaina put on a hangdog look, resigned to punishment for the previous day's excursion and thinking that surely someone had seen her with Sophocles. Myrrhine walked in silence and looked worried herself. They made straight for the Anaktoron, where the Sacred Objects, the Hiera, Holiest of Holies, were kept and where everyone except the Hierophant was refused entry. His throne stood outside the bolted door, and he assumed his position in the great seat, a stately presence in his flowing wraps of colored cloth. Melaina's apprehension grew. Surely he was about to levy some formal punishment against her.
The Hierophant said he'd heard from Kallias of her final moments at Brauron, her initiation during the Night of the Bear. "But I want to hear it," he said, "from you. Details are important."
Melaina paused a moment to gather her thoughts, then told him all she remembered, eyes flooding with tears as she recalled the details of Kynthia's death.
"That's interesting," said the Hierophant, "particularly the fate of your she-goat, the fact the animal had not been sacrificed."
She continued and after she finished, he said, "I've heard nothing to compare with it, a goat refused and a human sacrificed provided, two actually, as Kallias read it. Remarkable."
"Not really, grandfather," said Melaina, "it was simply chance that the assassin intruded before I slit the she-goat's throat."
"'Twas the same as the casting of lots," he said. "The outcome of chance is ever the gods' handiwork. I've heard nothing like it since Iphigeneia."
"But I dreamed it the night before. And could have prevented it if I'd realized it was all to come to pass."
The old man raised his eyebrows, laughed out loud. "Simple guilt tells you that. Not even Zeus can change what the Fates ordain. But you've a gift for prophecy. I've known it for some time."
"What good is prophecy if it doesn't help?"
"Mortals don't always work toward fulfilling divine will. We all wear the gods' yoke, and those who know must spread the word. A priestess from Zeus' sacred grove was here not long ago on such a mission."
"Grandfather! One of the three doves of Dodona?" Melaina had never met a priestess from the most ancient of oracles and wished she'd not been away at Brauron.
The Hierophant nodded. "She brought word that Demeter and her divine daughter will come amongst us again."
"Still lamenting Kore's marriage?"
"More likely, concern for the Mysteries. Xerxes is a threat to Eleusis. You may play a role in the goddess' plans. When Artemis saved you at Brauron, she gave you a second fate. The goddess did that for a reason."
"A second fate? How extraordinary! What could the goddess want with me?"
"The gods have designs on all our lives, but you will be severely yoked. You've answered my question. Now, off with the two of you. I've the Dadouchos to contend with over this."
Melaina didn't particularly like the idea of her grandfather discussing her fate with Kallias, but stifled her objection. He may have saved my life, she thought, but that should be the end of it. The Hierophant returned to his chamber, but the mother and daughter lingered in the Telesterion. Melaina wanted to be alone, but Myrrhine wouldn't have it. "I have something to tell you," she said. "During the months of your absence, the Council of the Mysteries met and voted on admittance of new priests and priestesses. You were the only one approved."
Melaina started to protest, realizing she must reveal her plans for the future before the council decided for her.
"Please," her mother said. "I haven't finished. Ordinarily you wouldn't be told until the Hierophant decided it was time to assume the position, but word has leaked out. People will be whispering. He'll decide which vacancy you'll fill. Any will be a great honor, yet simply a steppingstone for your final life-long position. One day you'll take my place as priestess of Demeter, the most powerful position in the Mysteries other than that of the Hierophant."
Her mother paused, took Melaina into her arms and held her close. But Melaina stiffened. She felt none of her usual warmth and affection. Her mother continued talking, the words whispers in Melaina's ear.
"Perhaps now you can see the importance of not repeating the indiscretion at the blacksmith's. You're to stay out of the public eye."
Melaina started sweating, felt trapped. "But mother," she said, her voice a much younger whine. "I don't want to be a priestess. I want…." She pushed away, turned her back.
"What?" her mother asked.
Melaina wouldn't respond, felt an overwhelming sense of irritation.
"Talk, Melaina. What's wrong?"
When Melaina turned around, she'd changed. She was no longer the little girl she'd seemed a moment ago in her mother's arms. Melaina straightened and realized for the first time that she was as tall as her mother. "Never!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "I want to follow Artemis, not Demeter. I'll remain virgin and be a poetess like Sappho."
"That's foolishness. This is a different time, a different place. Sappho was below your station. You can't cast aside being the most important woman in Eleusis. Events and inscriptions will be dated by your name. You'll be in charge of the expense fund and receive an obol from each initiate. Your dowry will grow beyond bounds."
"But mother, why would the Muses give me song if I weren't supposed to sing? Besides, Sappho wasn't just a poetess." And Melaina assumed an adult stature she'd never shown, had deliberately hidden in fact. Appearing fragile had its advantages, but now she must show strength. "She ran a finishing school for aristocratic girls. Kynthia," and now her eyes filled with tears, "said my verses are sweet as Sappho's. And you have to admit that with my years of training, I'm the most educated young woman in Eleusis."
"Kynthia has filled your head with nonsense. You must realize that soon you're to be married. Sappho was married, even had a child. I warned your grandfather about sending you to Brauron where you could fall under Artemis' influence. The path of the virgin goddess is not for you. Demeter would be deeply offended. We've been close in the past. Don't let this come between us."
"No! Mother, you mustn't let them marry me off. I'll talk to grandfather." She fumbled in her leather bag. "I'm very good with the aulos," she said, "and Kynthia told me I had few peers on the lyre."
"The aulos is a sordid thing, disfigures the face. You want to be a common flute-girl?"
"Mother! I'm serious about poetry and teaching. The aulos is indispensable for a chorus."
Melaina saw her mother calm a little, although she still appeared determined. "Dreams of such independence can never be. Women were allowed more freedom on Sappho's Lesbos one hundred years ago. We're discouraged from even being seen in public. Priestesses have a little more freedom than other women but are still kept from the public. All must marry."
"You haven't remarried since father died."
"That's different. I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you about that, but not while you're angry. Besides, you don't understand virginity. You would remain an empty vessel, your body a sieve. Remember the Danaïdes, who in the Underworld were condemned to carry water in bottomless jars? You'd be like the people who haven't been initiated into the Mysteries."
"Kynthia wasn't an empty vessel. I can still be out of the public e
ye while running a finishing school. I could learn to teach from Uncle Aeschylus. He loves me, mother, more than anything, he once said. Sophocles says Uncle Aeschylus is the best poet in the world." And then she blushed, realizing she'd blurted out her latest indiscretion.
Her mother's voice filled with coarse anger. "When have you been talking to Sophocles?"
Melaina turned her back again and walked away, her blush so deep it reddened her bare shoulder.
"Melaina! Please come back. You're not well. I must talk to you."
Melaina broke into a run, the clip-clop of her sandals echoing off the walls of the sacred chamber. She wondered what her mother's last statement meant but simply couldn't bear to hear anything conflicting with her own plans.