CHAPTER 10: Evacuation to Salamis
At the first hint of dawn, the small troop—mother, daughter and a handful of maids—descended the hill to the dock where the ship lingered in its slip. Although Melaina had lived by the sea all her life, she'd never been aboard a boat, and the one awaiting them swarmed with men, another forbidden quantity. Just forward of the bow oars, the bulwark broke to leave a narrow entry onto which Melaina stepped, the twenty-oared galley shifting a little under her weight, something she hadn't expected. She noticed a plaque on which the boat's name had been carved, The Eleutheria, The Freedom. But the whole affair felt unstable, wobbling about like some restless sea monster. A line of pale, sun-starved city women stretched along the boat's centerline, each stepping between two bronzed oarsmen, smelly men with grizzled beards and stern countenance. Bright-eyed in the presence of this feminine cargo, they breathed laboriously, as though they'd just recently wetted their oars.
The rest of the ship's company, dressed in drab, knee-length tunics, was cunningly arranged so as to afford efficient boat operation. The captain sat aft on a fixed stool before the small cabin; the bow officer, who maintained a proper outlook, stood forward; the helmsman sat at the steering oar; and the aulete took up his position at the center mast to synchronize the oarsmen.
With a single shout from the helmsman, they pushed off. Once through the slip, the yard groaned at the base of the mast, straightened and rose, deploying the square sail that billowed as it caught the breeze. The ship's aulete, the flautist, began his beat to sync the oarsmen, and the broad flat blades splashed, then creaked against the tholepins. A grand magic took hold the ship and propelled it forward under influence of both sail and oar.
They passed over the bay, with dawn's pink glow tingeing the water's ripples, and shortly came alongside Salamis. Skirting the east shore southward, they saw across to Athens, thin trails of smoke still frozen above it. The tweetle of the aulete's twin-fluted instrument caught Melaina's fancy, and remembering the choruses of girls she'd led at Brauron, she hummed along. Anaktoria and little Agido, who in the past were forever urging her to lead them in song, joined in, and it wasn't long before the other girls did likewise. The monotonous tootling of the ship's aulete turned divine ditty, and the mood of the finely tuned troop lifted, a promiscuous smile crossing every face. Melaina noticed that even her mother was caught up in this girlish delirium, though she uttered, "Shameful," loud enough for Melaina to hear.
They coursed the coast of Salamis that, as far inland as the eye could see, had become one large city of refugee tents, bleak peaks rising between buildings and around trees. They entered the cove, and a horde of hidden warships that lined shore came into view. Triremes were stacked six deep. At the docks, damaged vessels crowded together, frantic workmen hard at repairing them, their shouts and thuds of mallets a great din in the cove.
Word of the group's sunrise arrival preceded them, Kallias having dropped some not-too-subtle hints about the young priestess descending to the Underworld, as had Herakles and Odysseus of old. Several island priests and a crowd of the curious met them. Melaina noticed their looks of desperation and futility. A murmur arose when Melaina stepped from the boat, and the first rays of sunlight shot forth. Hearing whispers of "Kore" and "Underworld," she tried to hide behind her mother.
A great shout startled Melaina, and she turned to see a crowd standing before the beach, urging on a laboring dog who'd made the swim from Attica. His snout was blowing bubbles, and he barely stayed afloat. He made shore, but staggered and then fell onto the sand. A boy of ten with an unusually shaped head, a tall head as if he wore a helmet, ran to the dog as the crowd cheered him on. One man asked the boy's father, "Xanthippus, did your dog swim to Salamis for love of freedom or love of his master's bondage?" Melaina recognized the father as a general. She'd seen him at Kleito's on the way back from Brauron. The big-headed boy gathered the animal into his arms as his father responded. "For companionship. The simple beast has lost its life, dying just now in my son's arms. It knew nothing of the contrivances for which a man will give his life."
Melaina was caught up in the plight of the dying dog until Aeschylus, with young Sophocles at his side, stepped forward to take charge of the mother and daughter. She watched as Agido and Anaktoria were taken in a different direction. She'd be kept separate from them. Agido cast back a longing look. Melaina watched Sophocles from the corner of her eye, detecting a smile. Their arrival had been all the more symbolic as they were the only dignitaries from Eleusis. The old Hierophant had steadfastly refused to board the boat. This had brought Melaina and her mother to tears as they wondered if they'd see him alive again. "If everyone's going to die anyway," he'd said, "what's the difference if I die on Salamis or at home here in Eleusis?"
As they walked along the docks to a waiting wagon, a fog of unease settled upon the countryside. Birds circled overhead screeching, and Melaina saw several flashes of light, as a mirror will when it catches the sun. Dogs became irritable and turned on each other. Cats screeched and ran for cover. She saw ripples in the distance, like the distortion of heat waves on a landscape, flowing rapidly toward them. The soft sea breeze fell still, and she heard a rumbling, like the far-off thunder of horses' hooves.
The earth began to shake, sending people scattering and screaming in panic as waves rose up to capsize boats in the cove, smash fishing boats against the dock, jostle warships, and threaten to consume Persian and Greek alike. Stones toppled from buildings, roofs fell in, and the earth itself split open.
Melaina was knocked from her feet, and while still in the sitting position, having never experienced an earthquake, uttered words of prayer as a simple reflex. "Lord Poseidon, Earthshaker and deep-roaring ruler of the sea, don't destroy us in our moment of vulnerability. The Persians have already taken our cities. Don't deepen our grief by putting them beneath dark Earth."
As Melaina's words dissipated in the morning air, hardly more than a whisper, so the earth's rumbling crust ceased shivering, and the waves in the bay calmed. As she regained her feet, a murmur spread through the crowd, and old women rushed to touch Melaina's garments. Melaina withdrew further, hid her face behind her peplos and sunk inside herself.
She heard a woman scream. Melaina and her mother rushed to a nearby stone building that had been turned to rubble by the trembling earth. "Oh, my baby, my baby!" the peasant shouted, casting loose stones aside in a frantic search. Melaina stepped into the ruins, rummaged through scattered debris, and tried to raise a section of collapsed roof. She thought she heard a faint cry and asked Aeschylus to help. As if by magic, she raised the baby from the rubble, its bright eyes flashing. The mother was struck dumb, her mouth falling open as she dropped to her knees before Melaina who delivered the baby into her arms.
Whereas the flurry of activity when they stepped off the boat had only embarrassed Melaina, the extreme reaction of the mother, over seeing her child unharmed, along with the crowd's tempest, frightened her. She sought the safety of her uncle, and seeing his dark bull-like form brush aside the crowd, ran to him.
"I've heard of your antics," Aeschylus said, "but wouldn't have believed this if I hadn't seen it myself."
Melaina couldn't understand why even her own contrary uncle saw something extraordinary in her simple act.
Aeschylus and Sophocles ushered the two women away from the gathering crowd and to the home of Mnesarchides and Kleito, who'd offered refuge in Phlya after Melaina's escape from Brauron. From their home on a hillside overlooking the strait, Melaina could see the distant walls of Athens, now in the hands of Persians. Kleito, a huge woman and an herbalist, decorated her home with wild thyme, frankincense, and myrrh. Clusters of exotic plants dried in the corners, and large jars of medicinal oils stood like dumb children in the various rooms. Kleito's huge bulk trudged about shouting orders at the slaves to prepare a room for Myrrhine and Melaina, all the time complaining about the shortage of space.
An aftershock sent women screaming, and Kleito ran to ho
ld Myrrhine's hands for a moment, then lumbered off once again shouting at the slaves and search for bedding. Kleito scolded herself. "Why complain on the eve of doom? All will belong to Persia tomorrow."
Melaina looked for Sophocles, but he'd vanished soon after they'd arrived, and she heard his family was housed nearby, though his father, Sophillus, was chronically ill. Aeschylus and sour-faced Philokleia stayed in the chamber next to that of Melaina and her mother.
By mid-afternoon, Melaina's eyes drooped from lack of sleep. She was so shaken by the earthquake and threatening rush of the devout that she welcomed the chance to simply be her mother's daughter again and slinked into Myrrhine's arms on the soft bed. The sweet smell of wild thyme lofted about Melaina as she curled into the fetal position within her mother's arms. But sleep didn't come.
"Mother," she asked, "how did father die?"
"Aeschylus says he died from the blow of an ax." Her mother's voice was small and plaintive next to Melaina's ear.
"Is it possible to see the dead?"
"For those chosen by the gods, all things are possible."
"I saw father while in the cave of Hades," she said. "In my dream he was missing his right hand." She wondered how her mother would take this, but she didn't respond immediately, and Melaina wondered if she'd fallen asleep.
Her mother let out a deep breath. "Your father lost his hand reaching for the stern ornament of a ship. A Persian ax severed it, and he bled to death."
Melaina remembered her promise to her father, that she'd avenge his death, but chose not to tell her mother. It seemed something just between him and her. She snuggled against her mother's breast. Sleep still would not come. Her father had also mentioned something about a short life being the more glorious. She'd thought he'd meant his own. But now his comment sounded more ominous. Somehow, she felt he was talking about her.