Soldier of the Mist

CHAPTER XVII-On the Way to Advent

There are many inns. Though we arrived by daylight, it was too late to go to the house of the god; Pindaros has taken a room for us in this one only a few stades away. The inn is a hollow square with two stories all the way around. We have a double room-like a man's bent arm, but wider.

The first thing I can remember from this day is eating the first meal with Kalleos and the other women. I knew her name then from some earlier time, for I called her by it when I brought out the boiled barley meal and fruit, and the wine and water, asking Kalleos whether I could carry food to Io and the black man. Kalleos said to bring them to the courtyard, where the long table stood. (I think the black man and I must have put it there, because when the time came to take it down we knew how to do it.)

The women were talking about how happy they were to be in the city again, and of going to the market to buy jewelry and new clothes. Though the sun was at its zenith, I think most had just risen. Another man came, still yawning and rubbing his teeth with a cloth. I made room for him, and he said, "I'm Pindaros. Do you remember me, Latro?"

I answered, "Yes. I remember our parting last night, and this morning I read my scroll. Your name is written there often. Pindaros, I must find the healer from Riverland."

When I mentioned Riverland, the women fell quiet to listen. Pindaros said, "Who is that?"

"The man who treated me just after the battle. He told me my name; he'd learned it from the men of my maniple. Do you see how important that is? Those men knew who I was, so they must know where I came from."

"And you want to find out?" Pindaros asked. "You haven't talked about it much before."

"Yes!"

He said to Kalleos, "He's been getting better all the time. This is the best yet. Latro, you must go to the Great Mother. Did you read that in your book too?"

I told him I had read the words of the Shining God: "By the shrine of the Great Mother you fell, to a shrine of hers you must return."

"There you are, then."

One of the women asked, "Who's the Great Mother?" But Pindaros waved her to silence.

"I don't trust the gods of this land," I said.

Pindaros shrugged. "A man must trust the gods. There's nobody else."

"If the scroll is true, I've seen many more than you," I told him. "You've only seen the Black God-"

The black man nudged me and opened and closed his hands to show that there were twenty black gods at least.

"I believe you," I said. "But the scroll tells only of your seeing one, and the same for Pindaros. Have you seen more?"

He shook his head.

Kalleos asked, "Are you saying you've actually seen a god, Latro? Like they used to appear to people in the old days?"

"I don't know," I told her. "I've forgotten, but I wrote of many in my scroll."

"He has," Pindaros told her. "He's seen one at least, because I was there and saw him too. So did little Io-remind me to ask how you got here, Io-and our comrade there. I think he's seen many more. He's told me about them at various times, and after seeing the King of Nysa, whom he just called the Black God, I believe him."

"Then believe me also when I say no one should trust them. Some are better than others, no doubt: the Swift God, the Shining God, and the King of Nysa. But I think… "

"Yes?" Pindaros bent toward me, listening.

"I think that even the best act in some twisted way, perhaps. There's malice even in those who would be kind, I think even in Europa. In the serpent woman it burned so hot that I felt it still when I read what I had written of her."

I do not think Kalleos had been listening to me. She said, "But you remember, Pinfeather. And you, honey. You've got to tell us about it."

Then Pindaros and Io told of meeting the Black God. I remember thinking that it was much as it was written in this scroll, so I will not give their words here. I remember too that I was glad it was they who spoke and not I, because I was hungry and it gave me time to eat.

They were still talking when I finished my barley porridge and bit into an apple. When there was a knock at the door, I went.

A pretty woman with blue eyes darker than Kalleos's waited there. "Hello, Latro," she said. "Do you remember me?"

I shook my head.

"I'm Hilaeira, and we're old friends. May I come in?"

I stood aside and told her I had read of her in my scroll that morning.

She smiled and said, "I'll bet you didn't read that you're handsomer than ever, but you are. Hypereides says this house is full of women. I don't see how they can keep their hands off you. Do you remember Pindaros?"

"Yes," I said. "He's eating the first meal. I think perhaps Kalleos will invite you to join us if you like."

"I'd love to. I just came from Tieup, and that's no stroll."

We went into the courtyard, where I told Kalleos, "This is Hilaeira. May she join us?"

"Of course, of course!" Kalleos said. "Hilaeira, dear, I ought to have introduced myself on Europa, and I'm sorry I didn't. You can sit beside me-move over, Eleonore-and help yourself. Like I said, I would have offered to help you yesterday, but I thought you were Pinfeather's wife. How'd you get to the city?"

"I walked," Hilaeira told her. "Hypereides says it's against the law here for a woman to go out alone, but Io was gone-"

Io called, "Here I am!"

"Why, so you are! Anyway, Hypereides wouldn't send anybody. He didn't want to spare them, and he thought Pindaros would come. Pindaros didn't, so I decided to risk it. I thought I'd probably meet him on the road, but of course I didn't. Hypereides gave me a letter for you." Hilaeira reached into the neck of her gown and drew it out. "It's a little damp, I'm afraid."

"No matter. Read it to me, will you, dear? This sunlight would have my poor eyes weeping like Niobe."

Hilaeira broke the seal and glanced at the writing, "Are you sure you want me to? It looks rather personal. I-"

The women all laughed.

"Go ahead, dear. We've no secrets in this house."

"All right. 'My darling sweet: May I say once more how fine it was for this weary old sailor to rest his salt-rimed head upon that divine white bosom of yours-"'

At this point Hilaeira was interrupted again by the women's laughter, and some of them beat the table with their spoons. There were more such interruptions subsequently, but I shall take no more notice of them.

" 'When I began my voyage to the Navel and Tower Hill, I quite agreed with the Assembly's decision to send ships instead of going overland, but what a weary steed a ship is!

" 'And yet the return paid for all. Thank you, dearest Kalleos. The second part of your payment must await my return, alas, for we are being dispatched to join the fleet. Send my slave back with the chair today.' That's underlined," Hilaeira added.

Kalleos looked at the black man. "You have to take the chair back, understand? Then go to the sheds and find Hypereides. If you don't, he'll have the archers after you."

The black man nodded, his face expressionless, then turned to me, pretending to write upon the palm of his hand and cocking an eyebrow as he does when he wants to ask a question. I said, "You want to know whether I read of you in my scroll. Yes, I did. You were my first friend; I know that."

He left the table, and I have not seen him since.

" 'Be kind to poor Latro,' " Hilaeira continued, " 'and you will find him anxious to do whatever lies in his power to help you. At least, I have always found him so.

" 'Pindaros Pagondas of Cowland will already have told you what happened last night. I think it was the worst adventure of my life. May all the Twelve preserve me from such another! I lost, and you may pay the money I and the others left with you to Eurykles. When you have done so, I urge you never to see him again. Believe me, O sweetest Kalleos, if you had been one of us last night, you would not.

" 'And now farewell-' "

"Wait up!" Kalleos exclaimed. "Pinfeather hasn't told me anything. What happened, poet?"

"In a moment," Pindaros said. "Let her finish."

" 'And now farewell from your grateful lover Hypereides, darling Kalleos. The Rope Makers say a man who goes to war must return with his hoplon or upon it. I've tested mine and it won't float, so I mean to carry it back. Till then I remain your loving Hypereides.' "

When the women had subsided somewhat, Pindaros asked, "Do you really want me to tell you what happened last night? In front of everyone here? I warn you, if I do I'll tell the truth. You've been a generous hostess, Kalleos, so if you'd prefer to hear it in private… "

"Go ahead," Kalleos told him.

"From the beginning?"

She nodded.

"All right, then I'll start by saying that when Eurykles made his bet it struck me that Phye's tale had been very convenient for him. When she said she'd come with us-alone out of all these women-I felt sure something was in the wind. Maybe I hadn't drunk quite as much as the others, or maybe I've got a stronger head. I don't know. How much were you supposed to get, Phye?"

Kalleos said, "Never mind that," and Phye, through bruised lips, "An owl."

"We found an opened grave," Pindaros continued, "and at first I thought Eurykles had done it himself; later I realized it would have been too great a risk. Phye was frightened, and she went to him for protection. That told me she knew Eurykles better than any of the rest of us, and that she was really afraid. If she'd been faking it, she would almost certainly have grabbed Hypereides, since he'd bet the most money."

"Go on," Kalleos said grimly.

"When we were here, Eurykles had seemed very drunk. I suppose you have to seem drunk to bet that you can raise the dead. But at the burial ground, he was the soberest of all, except for Latro, who hadn't been drinking. Phye said she was leaving, and it seemed to me she meant it; but it also seemed that Eurykles either thought it was part of some plan or wanted her to believe he thought that, so that she'd go ahead with it when she got her nerve back."

"She didn't," Kalleos told him grimly. "She came here."

"I can see that. Phye, I'd put a slice of cucumber on that eye, if I were you."

"Nothing you've talked about would have horrified Hypereides," Kalleos said. "Get on with it."

"All right, I will. Eurykles raised the woman from the grave. She stood up and talked to us, but she was quite clearly dead. Her face was livid, and her cheeks beginning to fall in."

Kalleos leaned toward him, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"He did it?"

Pindaros shrugged. "He sacrificed a cock, and she stood up and spoke. When the rest of us left, she followed him into the city." He turned to Phye. "What were you supposed to do? Supply the voice, or actually appear as the ghost?"

She said, "You knew. Even when we were back here, you knew."

"Because I bet with Hypereides? I knew enough to know who was going to win a strange bet proposed by a stranger. So does Hypereides, I imagine, when he's sober."

By then the women were all talking at once. Hilaeira whispered across the table, "Latro, did you touch her? Do you remember?"

I nodded.

"Which brings us to Latro," Pindaros said to her. "I can't go back to our shining city until I've taken him to the shrine of the Great Mother. I won't blame you if you don't want to come, though you're welcome to if you wish."

Hilaeira said, "My father-he's dead-had a business connection here. I thought perhaps he'd let me stay with him a while."

"Certainly," Pindaros said.

"This is so near Advent, where they have the mysteries of the Grain Goddess, and I'd love to be an initiate. They'll take me, won't they? Despite the war?"

"They'll accept anyone who hasn't committed murder, I believe," Pindaros told her. "But there's quite a period of study involved-half a year or so. Kalleos, what do you know of the mysteries? Is there any reason Hilaeira couldn't be initiated?"

Kalleos shook her head, smiling again. "Not a reason in the world. And Hilaeira, dear, I heard what you said about your poor uncle, or whoever it was. Believe me, dear, you don't need him. You're welcome to stay right here with me for as long as you like."

"Why, that's very kind of you," Hilaeira said.

"It does take a while, you understand. But you're lucky, because it's right about now that they start. You'll have to go down to Advent every so often all summer, and there are fasts and ceremonies and whatnot. I've never gone through it, but I know people who have."

"Did it change their lives?" Hilaeira asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes, absolutely. Gave them a whole new outlook, and a better one too, I'd say. And it's ever so useful socially. Where was I? Washings-there's a lot of them, mostly in the Ilissus. In the fall they admit you to the lesser mysteries. After that would be the time for you to go home, if you want to. Then a year later you come back, go through the lesser mysteries again, and then the greater mysteries. Then you're an initiate and a friend of the goddess's forever, and every year you can come back for the greater mysteries, though you don't have to. Those last four days. The lesser mysteries are two, I think. But you really ought to go down to Advent and talk to the priests."

"Is it far?"

"No. If you start when we're through eating, you… Pinfeather, what's the matter with you?"

"It's just that-Last night, Latro said-By all the gods!"

Hilaeira was looking at him too. "For a man who takes talking corpses in his stride, you seem a bit distraught."

"I should be. I am! I've been an idiot. Io, do you remember what the prophetess said? I want to be sure my memory's not playing me false."

"I think so," Io told him. "Let me see. 'Look under the sun… ' "

"Further along," Pindaros told her. "About the wolf."

" 'The wolf that howls has wrought you woe!' " Io chanted. " 'To that dog's mistress you must go! Her hearth burns in the room below. I send you to the God Unseen!' "

"That's enough. 'The wolf that howls has wrought you woe, to that dog's mistress you must go, her hearth burns in the room below.' Kalleos, is there a cave at Advent?"

Kalleos shook her head. "I haven't the least idea."

"There must be. I need to borrow Latro for today and tomorrow. May I have him? I'll bring him back to you, I swear."

"I suppose so. Would you mind telling me what's going on?"

Pindaros had bitten into his apple. He chewed and swallowed before answering. "Back in our city, I took an oath to guide Latro to the place mentioned by the prophetess. I thought it meant the oracle at Lebadeia, which is only about two days' journey."

"You consulted the god at the Navel?" Kalleos asked.

Pindaros shook his head. "There's a temple of the Shining God and a prophetess in our city. We never got to Lebadeia, as you can see from our ending up here. But last night Latro said-"

I interrupted. "That we should trust the Shining God if we trusted his oracle."

"Right. Latro, I know you don't remember, but go get your book. Look at the very beginning and tell me where you were wounded. We know about the battle-where on the battlefield."

"I don't have to get it," I told him. "I read it this morning. At the temple of the Earth Mother."

Pindaros heaved a great sigh. "I thought I recalled someone's saying something about that. That clinches it."

"Clinches what?" Hilaeira asked.

"The wolf is one of the badges of the Great Mother," Pindaros told her. "That's why I thought it was the shrine of the Great Mother that was meant-it is in a cave, by the way. But don't you remember what the priest said to us beside the lake? The morning after you and I first met?"

"He explained that the gods have different names to indicate different attributes, and different names in different places, too. Of course, I knew that before."

Pindaros nodded. "And do you know how Advent got its name? Or why the mysteries are performed there?"

"I thought it had always been there."

"No, in ancient times Advent-which wasn't called Advent then-had a king named Celeos. His people lived by hunting and fishing, and gathering wild fruits. The Great Mother was looking for her daughter, who'd been carried away by the Receiver of Many. To shorten a long story, in her wanderings she came to Advent and taught Celeos to grow grain."

Hilaeira exclaimed, "I see!"

"Certainly, and I should have seen too, much sooner. The Grain Goddess is the Great Mother, and the Great Mother is the Earth Mother, who sends up our wheat and barley. Her greatest temple's at Advent, and it was near a temple of hers that Latro was wounded. The Shining God was telling Latro to go to Advent, and when I started to lead him in the wrong direction, he made sure we'd get to the right place after all. All I have to do now is take him there, which I can do this afternoon. Then I'll be free to return home."

"And will I find my friends?" I asked him. "Will I be cured then?"

"I don't know," Pindaros answered solemnly. "Certainly you will have taken the first step." CHAPTER XVIII-Here in the Hall of the Great Mother

I sacrificed today. About midmorning, Pindaros, Hilaeira, Io, and I went to talk to a priest. He told us that his name was Polyhommes and that he was of the family of the Eumolpides. "The high priest is always chosen from our family," he said. "Thus many of us serve our turn, hoping for a smile from the goddess." He smiled himself, and broadly, for he was one of those happy and helpful fat men one sometimes meets in the service of gods and kings, though he smelled of blood, as I suppose all priests must.

"We are the children of Demophon, whom the goddess would have made immortal if she could. I grant it's not as good as being of the line of Heracles, who actually was made immortal, but it's the best we can manage. Now what can I do to help you, sir? This is your wife, I take it, and your little daughter. And your son, who's been injured. A striking young man-what a pity someone struck him!" He chuckled. "This is not a shrine of healing, however, save for the spirit. I will be happy to direct you to one."

I said, "I hope it will be a shrine of healing for me," and Pindaros explained our actual relationships.

"Ah! Then we have here, in fact, two parties, though you have traveled together. Let's take the young woman first, for her case will be somewhat easier, I believe.

"You must understand, my daughter, that there are three classes of persons who cannot be admitted to the mysteries. These are murderers, magicians, and soothsayers. If you are admitted to the mysteries-or if you so much as begin the ceremonies for admission-and it is discovered that you belong to any of those three classes, the penalty is death. But at this moment there is no penalty; you need not even tell me, 'I have killed,' or, 'I am a magician.' All you have to do is leave this room and return to the city. Nothing will be said or done."

"Yes, my daughter?"

"Do you know how girls sometimes dip a mirror into a spring when the moon is full? When you look into it, in the moonlight… "

"What do you see?"

"Your husband's face. The man who's going to be your husband. The Moon Virgin shows you, if you're a virgin yourself."

Polyhommes laughed. "Hopeless for me, I'm afraid. I've four children."

"I used to be good at it, or I thought I was, and I, uh, showed some other girls how. I don't do it any more."

"I see. Did you look into the mirror for them, or did you simply show them how to do it for themselves?"

"I showed them how," Hilaeira said. "You can't do it for somebody else. Each one has to do it for herself."

"And did they pay you for your help?"

Hilaeira shook her head.

"Then you're surely not a magician or a soothsayer, my daughter. May I take it you're not a murderess? In that case, you may attend the initial ceremony. That will be… " He paused, counting on his fingers. "Just five days from now, in the evening. You're living in the city?"

"I'm staying with a friend."

"Then it would probably be best for you to return there. There are good inns here, but they're frightfully expensive, I'm told. On the fifth day you may come here just as you did today. We'll assemble at the stele at sunset."

Hilaeira cleared her throat, a sound like the peep of a little frog. "I said I was staying in Thought, Holiness. I'm not from Thought."

Polyhommes laughed again. "You're from Cowland, my daughter. You're all from Cowland, except for your young friend here, and I can't imagine where he's from. Can't you tell we speak differently here on the Long Coast? We don't double the 'fish' and the 'camel' the way you do, for one thing."

"That doesn't matter?"

Polyhommes shook his head. "I said there were three classes who were not admitted. Actually, there is a fourth-those who cannot understand our language well enough to comprehend the ceremonies. But even they are excluded only on practical grounds. If a barbarian learns our speech, he is welcomed."

"And will I have to make an offering when I come again in five days?"

He shook his head again. "Most do, but it isn't required. I take it you're not wealthy?"

"No."

"Then my advice is to make an offering, but a small one. Perhaps one drachma-or an obol, if that's all you can afford. That way you'll have something to put in the krater and need feel no embarrassment."

"May I ask one more question?"

"A hundred, my daughter, if they're all as sensible as those you've asked thus far."

"It isn't this way in our city, but here people tell me a woman isn't supposed to go out alone. Will anyone bother me when I try to come back? I don't think Pindaros will be here then, and Kalleos probably won't want Latro to come."

Polyhommes smiled. "You won't be alone, my child. Far from it. Recollect that every candidate for initiation this year will be on the Sacred Way with you. No one will molest you, I promise. Nor will the archers stop you and inquire why you've no escort. If you're nervous, you need only find some decent man and put yourself under his protection."

"Thank you," Hilaeira said. "Thank you very much, Holiness."

"And now, young man, to you. You're not a candidate?"

Pindaros said, "He merely wishes to present himself to the goddess."

"Purity is best, just the same. I take it he's no magician or soothsayer. Has he blood guilt?"

"He doesn't remember, as I told you."

I said, "I killed three slaves once, I think, though I didn't write it down. You said so later, Pindaros, and I read about it this morning while you and Hilaeira were still asleep."

"They were slaves of the Rope Makers," Pindaros explained, "serving as auxiliaries in their army. Blood spilled in battle doesn't count, does it?"

Polyhommes shook his head. "There's no guilt. Have you an offering?"

Io whispered, "The Shining God gave me to him. He can't give me to the goddess, can he?"

"He may if he wishes," Polyhommes told her. "Do you, young man? This slave girl would make a fine offering."

"No. But I've nothing else."

"I can give him a little money," Pindaros put in.

"Good. Young man, I'd suggest you use what your friend gives you to purchase an animal for sacrifice. The town is full of people who sell them-you'll have no difficulty. If you're short of funds, a hen is acceptable."

Pindaros shuddered. "No. Not a hen."

"Fine. A more, ah, significant beast is, of course, a better sacrifice. Normally those who sacrifice here desire to improve the fertility of their fields, and a hen is often sufficient. A young pig is the most common gift."

Pindaros said, "Like Hilaeira, I have a final question. Are there caves here? I realize you can't reveal the mysteries, but caves connected with the worship of the goddess?"

Polyhommes nodded without speaking.

"Wonderful! Sir, Holiness, you've been very, very kind. We'll go and get the sacrificial animal now. Meanwhile, perhaps a small gift for yourself…?"

"Would be most gratefully accepted." Polyhommes glanced at his palm and smiled. "Return at noon with your sacrifice, my son. I will be present to assist you with the liturgy."

When we were outside, Pindaros said, "I'm going to follow a hunch. Have you heard of the Lady of Cymbals?"

I shook my head; so did Hilaeira.

"That's the name under which the Great Mother's worshiped in the Tall Cap Country. Not by the sons of Perseus or Medea, but by their slaves-Lydia's people, and so on. They use the lion and the wolf as the Great Mother's badges more than we do. I know you don't remember that the oracle mentioned a wolf, Latro, unless you read that this morning too. But it did, and it said you had to cross the sea, which probably meant to the Tall Cap Country. After one's manhood, the sacrifice most acceptable to the Lady of Cymbals is a bullock."

Hilaeira asked, "Do you have enough money?"

"If we can find a cheap one. Kalleos advanced me a bit, and I won a bit more betting with Hypereides."

Most of the animal sellers had only the smaller ones. Shoats were the creatures most often sacrificed, as Polyhommes had told us, and fowls the cheapest; but there were sheep too, and eventually we came upon a yearling bull for sale.

Io said, "His horns have only just sprouted," and patted his muzzle.

"Very tender indeed, young lady," the farmer promised her. "You won't find better meat anyplace."

"That's right," Io said to Hilaeira. "We get to keep the meat, don't we? Will they cook it for us at the inn?"

Hilaeira nodded. "For a share of it. And they'll keep everything and give us something worse unless somebody watches them."

"I think he'd let me ride on his back, like Kalleos on the sail."

Pindaros bargained with the farmer and, after starting to walk away twice, bought the bullock for what he said was far too much money. "The people here laugh at us because we named our country after our cattle," he told me. "But we have some good stock, and I wouldn't trade them for all the ships on the Long Coast. You can't eat a ship, or plow anything but the sea."

There was a cord through the bullock's nose, and it followed us docilely enough while we bought a garland for its neck and chaplets of flowers for ourselves, though Pindaros refused to let Io mount.

Perhaps I should write here that the temple of the Grain Goddess is called the Royal House and that Pindaros said it was different from any other he had seen. Certainly it seems strange enough to me. It is large and square, and its interior is filled with pillars, so that one walks in it as in a forest of stone. They say the fire before the statue has been kept burning since the goddess wished to bathe the infant Demophon in its flames.

I will not give the words we spoke to the goddess before we sacrificed; I do not think it lawful. When all had been said, I put my hand on the bullock's head and begged the goddess to join my friends and me in our meal. Polyhommes poured milk in the bullock's ear, asking whether it wished to go to the goddess. It nodded, and Polyhommes cut its throat with the holy knife, which is of bronze, not iron. We cast certain parts of the carcass into the flames, and everyone relaxed.

"A good sacrifice, wouldn't you say, Holiness?" Pindaros smiled and straightened his chaplet of blossoms.

"A most excellent sacrifice," Polyhommes assured him.

Hilaeira's eyes were bright with tears. "I feel I'm a friend of the goddess's already," she said. "Once I thought she smiled at me. I really did."

"She does have a kind face," Polyhommes said, smiling up at his goddess. "Severe, but-"

Io asked, "What's the matter?"

He did not answer. He had been ruddy, but his cheeks were as white as tallow now, and the hand that held the sacred blade shook so that I feared he would drop it. Pindaros took his arm. "Are you ill?" "Let me sit," Polyhommes gasped, and Pindaros and I led him to the nearest bench. His forehead was beaded with sweat; when he was seated, he wiped it with a corner of his robe. "You wouldn't know," he said. "You're not familiar with her, as I am."

"What is it?" Pindaros asked. "My family always supplies the priests… "

"You told us that."

"So we're always in and out of the Royal House, even when we're just children. I've seen the goddess… I've seen her statue I suppose ten thousand times." We nodded.

"Now I want one of you-you, little girl-to describe it to me. I must know whether you see what I do."

Io asked, "Just talk about her? She's real big, bigger than any real woman. She wears her hair off her shoulders, I think probably in a knot at the back of her head. Should I go around and see?"

"No. Go on."

"And she's got a crown of poppies, and wheat-a sheaf of wheat, is that what they call it?-in her hand. Her other hand is pointing at the floor."

The fat priest let out his breath in a great whoosh. "I must see my uncle-get him to rule on this. All four of you remain here. Right here. It might be better if you didn't speak."

He hurried off, and we sat in silence. It seemed to me there should have been a feeling of peace then in the quiet temple, peace engendered by its sullen fire, its bars of sunshine and deep shadows; but there was none. Rather it seemed filled with soft yet heavy noises, as if some massive beast stirred and stamped where it could not be seen.

Polyhommes soon returned. "Our high priest has gone to the city; I'll have to decide this myself." He seemed calmer, and the heavy odor of wine was on his breath. "Very well. You must accept my statement that I have observed this statue many times, and that until today its left hand has always rested upon the head of the stone boar standing beside it."

Hilaeira's mouth opened, and even Pindaros gave a low whistle.

"A miracle-a major miracle-has taken place here today. A great sign. Did any of you see it? See the hand actually move?"

Pindaros, Hilaeira, and I all shook our heads. Io had trotted around the sacred hearth to look more closely at the statue.

"A pity, and yet move it surely did, doubtless at the very moment of sacrifice, when our eyes were on the victim." Polyhommes paused, drew a deep breath, and let it out again. "I suppose you've heard about the dead woman in the city? She's said to have walked until cockcrow and spoken to many persons, and the whole town's abuzz over it. No one knows what it may mean, and now this! Wait until word of this gets out! Can you imagine it?"

"I can," Pindaros said. "I hope I'm far away by then."

Polyhommes continued as though he had not heard him. "This is something you can see for yourself and go home and tell your children about. This is-"

Io called. "There's a clean place on the pig's head where the hand used to be. Come look!"

No doubt it was a measure of our amazement that all of us did, obedient as children to a child's command. She was right. Smoke from the sacred fire had grimed the boar's head, but the broken marble where the goddess's hand had left it was white and new.

"Think what this will mean for our Royal House." Polyhommes rubbed his hands. "For the mysteries!"

"And I was here," Hilaeira whispered.

"Indeed you were, my daughter. Indeed you were! And when you've fathomed the mysteries-well, priests are always chosen from the men of our family, as I've said. But there is a place-the highest of all-for a woman in the ceremonies."

Hilaeira stared at him, a dawning wonder in her eyes. "She too is customarily of the Eumolpides, but that is no insupportable obstacle. There is adoption, after all. There is even marriage. Such arrangements might be made by the high priest, and there can surely be no question now about who the next high priest will be."

Polyhommes threw out his chest. "My uncle is an elderly man, and it would seem that the goddess has made her wishes regarding his successor quite clear. There was, after all, only one priest present at the time of the miracle."

Io asked, "But what does she want?"

"Eh?" He turned to look at her. "The goddess. Why's she pointing at the floor?"

"I'm not sure." The fat priest hesitated. "When such a gesture is used by one in authority, it generally means that something or someone is to be brought to him."

Pindaros cleared his throat. "An oracle in our shining city directed that Latro be brought to the goddess."

"Ah. And he was the giver of the sacrifice-officially, at least." Polyhommes turned to me. "Young man, you must remain in this Royal House overnight, sleeping on the floor or upon one of these benches. Perhaps the goddess herself will appear in your dreams. If not, I think it likely she'll favor you with some message."

Thus I am here, sitting with my back against a column and writing these words by the light of the declining sun. I have had a good deal of time to think this afternoon; and it seems to me that more than once I have felt the spirit of a house when I, a stranger, went into that house-though I cannot retrieve from the mist those times or those houses. A temple is the house of the god who dwells there, and so I open myself to this house of the Grain Goddess, hoping to know whether it is friendly to me.

There is nothing-or rather, there is only the sense of age. It is as if I sit with a woman so old she neither knows nor cares whether I am real or only some figment of her disordered mind, a shadow or a ghost. A fly may light upon a rock; but what does the rock, which has seen whole ages since the morning when gods strode from hill to hill, care for a fly, the creature of a summer? CHAPTER XIX-In the Presence of the Goddess

I ate the beef, bread, and fruit Io had brought me from the inn, and drank the wine. When I was finished, I spread the pallet Hilaeira had carried and lay down; but I was not in the least ready for sleep, and when the town grew quiet, I sat up again.

For a time I read this scroll (which I must try always to keep with me) by the light of the sacred fire, learning of the many gods and goddesses who have shown themselves to me; and once or twice I took up the stylus to add some conclusion to the account of today's events I had written earlier. But how can a man draw conclusions from what he does not comprehend? I knew I did not understand what occurred, and it seemed to me that it would be better to wait until the goddess had spoken. Now I sit in the same place to write this record.

An acolyte entered without taking the least notice of me and, mumbling a prayer, cast an armload of cedar into the fire. It fell with a deep booming, as though the sacred hearth were a drum and not a stone. When I dozed, that booming echoed through my dreams and woke me.

I could see the statue plainly in the firelight. The hand pointing to the floor was nearest the flames and flushed with their light, so that it seemed to glow like iron in a forge. I felt it demanded something of me, and I threw off my cloak, hoping that when I was nearer I would understand. The goddess's hand was hot to my touch, but it was only after I had drawn my own away that I looked at last and saw the thing to which she pointed.

There was a small section of floor between the coping around the sacred fire and the pedestal upon which the goddess stood. It was dirtier than the floor in other places, I think because those who cleaned it were fearful to approach her too closely, or were not permitted to do so. I knelt and brushed its surface with the tips of my fingers. Just at the place she indicated, there was a ring of bronze set in the stone, though the depression that held it was so packed with dirt I could scarcely see it.

I wished then for Falcata, but I could not have worn her in the temple, and I had left her at our inn. There had been ribs among the meat, however, and when I had worked the point of the sharpest under the ring, it came up easily enough. I cast the rib into the fire as an additional offering and pulled at the ring with both hands.

The slab rose more readily than I had expected. Beneath it was a narrow stair and close beside it a pillar of flame; for the sacred hearth was not, as I had assumed, at the level of the temple floor, but here below it. I descended the stair, keeping away from the flames as well as I could.

"Your hair is singed." The voice was that of a woman. "I smell it, Latro."

I looked through the fire and saw her seated upon a dais at the end of the low room. Young she was, and lovely, wreathed in leaves and flowers; and flowers and leaves had been woven to make a chiton and a himation for her. And yet for all her youth and beauty, and the colors and perfumes of so many blossoms, there was something terrifying about her. When I reached the floor, I circled the sacred hearth, bowed low to her, and asked whether she was the Great Mother.

"No," she said. "I am her daughter. Because you are no friend of my mother's it would be best for you to call me the Maiden."

She rose from her seat as she spoke and came to stand before me. Slender and fragile though she looked, her eyes were higher than mine. "My mother cannot be everywhere, though she is in many places together. And so, because you have meddled in my realm, I offered to speak with you for her." She touched my hair, brushing away the scorched ends. "My mother does not wish to meet you again in any case. Would you not rather treat with me instead?"

"But I must meet with her," I said. I had read in this scroll what the Shining God had said and what the prophetess had chanted, and I told the Maiden of them.

"You are mistaken," the Maiden told me. "The Wolf-Killer said only that you must go to a shrine of my mother's, not that you need speak with her. As for the sibyl, her words were but a muddle of the Wolf-Killer's, cast in bad verse. Here is the hearth. You stand in the room below, though it was not always thus. You wished to speak with my mother, but I am before you in her place, more beautiful than she and a greater goddess."

"In that case, goddess, may I beg you to heal me and return me to my friends and my own city?"

She smiled. "You wish to remember, as the others do? If you remember, you will never forget me."

"I don't want to," I told her, but I knew even as I spoke that I lied.

"Many do," she said. "Or at least many believe they do. Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head.

"You have met my husband, but even he is lost now among the vapors that cloud your mind. I am the Queen of the Dead."

"Then surely I must not forget you. If men and women only knew how lovely you are, they wouldn't dread you as they do."

"They know," the Maiden told me, and plucked a lupine from her chiton. "Here is the wolf-flower for you, who bear the wolf's tooth. Do you know where it was born?"

I understood and said, "Beneath the soil."

The Maiden nodded. "If ten thousand others had not perished, this flower could never have been. It is the dead-trees and grasses, animals and men-who send you all you have of men, animals, trees, and grasses."

"Goddess, you say I've meddled in your realm. I don't remember; but restore my memory, and I'll do whatever you want of me to make amends."

"And what of the injury you did my mother?"

"I don't recall that, either," I told her. "But I am sorry from the bottom of my heart."

"Ah, you are no longer so stiff-necked as once you were. If this were my affair and not hers, I would do something for you now, perhaps. But it is hers, not mine." She smiled the infinitely kind smile of a woman who will not do what you ask. "I will convey your apology to her and plead your case most eloquently."

I think she saw the fury in my eyes before I knew of it myself, for she took a step backward without turning away from me.

"No!" My hand reached for Falcata, and I learned why the gods forbid our weapons in their temples.

"You threaten me. Do you not know that I cannot be harmed by a common mortal?"

"No," I said again. "No, I don't know that. Nor that I'm a common mortal. Perhaps I am. Perhaps not."

"You and your sword have been blessed by Asopus; but I am far greater than he, and your sword is elsewhere."

"You're right," I said. "My hands are all I have. I'll do the best I can with them."

"Against one entitled to your reverence as a goddess and your respect as a woman."

"If there's no need of them, I won't use them. Goddess, Maiden, I don't want to harm you or your mother. Yet I came hoping… " It seemed a bite of dry bread were caught in my throat; I could not speak.

"To be as other men. To know your home and friends."

"Yes."

"But by threatening me, you will only come to Death. Then you will be mine as so many others are, your home my kingdom, your friends my slaves."

"Better that than to live like this."

The stench of the grave filled the room, so strong that it masked the smoke from the cedar fire. Death rose through the floor and stood beside her, his skeleton hand clutching his black cloak.

"I need only say, 'He is yours,' and your life is past."

"I'll face him if I must."

Her smile grew warmer. "When you die at last, some monument will read, Here rests one who dared the gods. I will see to it. Yet I would rather not take such a hero in his youth."

Death sank from sight as quietly as he had come.

"You asked three favors of me; I will grant one, and you may choose the one. Will you be healed? Or returned to your friends? Or would you prefer to see your home again, though you will not recall it? I warn you, my mother will have a finger in it, whichever you choose; and I will make no further concessions. If you threaten me again, you will walk in the Lands of the Living no more."

I looked into her lovely, inhuman eyes; and I could not think which to choose.

"May I offer you refreshment?" she asked. "You may sample my wine while you decide, though if you drink deep of it, you must remain with me."

Glad of any argument that might postpone the choice, I protested, "But then, Maiden, I could see neither my friends nor my city."

"Both will be mine soon enough. Meanwhile you are young and very brave; come and share my couch, that a greater hero may be born. Our wine is in the columbarium there."

She pointed, and I saw a niche in the wall. In it stood a dusty jar and a cup, once the castle of some spider queen. Fear woke my hair. "What is this place?" I asked.

"You do not know? How quickly they forget, above! Your race might beg for memory better than yourself. You stand in the megaron of King Celeos. Behold his walls, where sits Minos his overlord, painted from life when he visited Celeos here. Celeos is my subject now and my husband's, and Minos one of our chief justices; no judge could better find the guilt attached to every party in a dispute than Minos. Behind you burns the fire in which my mother would have purified Celeos's son. When at last it dies, all this land will come to us."

I could only stare about me.

"This room has waited you a whole age of the world, but I will not. Have you chosen? Or will you die?"

"I'll choose," I told her. "If I ask for memory, I will indeed know who I am. But I may find myself very far from my city and my friends, and I've noticed that those who remember are generally less happy than I. If I choose my city, without friends or memories it will be as strange a place to me as this town of Advent. So I'm going to choose to rejoin my friends, who, if they are truly my friends, will tell me about my past, and where my city lies. Have I chosen wisely?"

"I had rather you had chosen me. Still, you have chosen, and one additional drop joins the flood that whirls us to destruction. Your wish shall be granted, as soon as it can be arranged. Do not cry out to me for succor when you are caught by the current."

She turned as if to go, and I saw that her back was a mass of putrefaction where worms and maggots writhed. I caught my breath but managed to say, "Do you hope to horrify me, Maiden? Every man who has followed a plow knows what you've shown me, yet we bless you all the same."

Again, she revealed her smiling face. "Beware my half sister Auge, who has stolen the south from my mother. And keep my flower-you shall have need of it." As she spoke, she sank slowly from sight.

At once the room grew darker despite the fire. I felt that a hundred ghosts, banished from it by her presence, were returning. Beside Minos stood a naked man with the head of a bull, his hand upon Minos's shoulder. The play of the firelight upon his muscled chest and arms made it seem they moved. A moment more, and he stamped as an ox does in the stall.

I snatched up the lupine, fled up the steps, and slammed down the slab. Almost, I threw the lupine into the flames; but its blue petals shone in the firelight, and I saw that it was but a wildflower, newly blown and brave with dew. I took off my chaplet, which had held many such blossoms, and found it sadly wilted. It I put into the flames instead, and I have rolled the lupine into the last turning of this scroll.

For it seems to me that we who bless her should not wantonly destroy what she has given.

Now I have written all I recall of this day. Already the morning, when we came to this place and met with Polyhommes, is as faded as the chaplet. I have looked back to see whether I spoke with Pindaros, Hilaeira, or Io at our inn, but there is nothing. Nor do I remember the name of the inn, nor where it stands. I would go there now and tell Pindaros of the Maiden, but no doubt the doors would be bolted, even if I should find it. I have written very small, always, not to waste this scroll. Now my eyes sting and burn when I seek to read it in the firelight, and yet nearly half the sheets are gray with my writing. I will write no more tonight.