CHAPTER 7
Everyone in the hall is in an utter panic. Cosmas is trying to calm down Phoebe, who clutches his arm in terror. Her father, Solon, is shouting for his servants to search the area for his youngest daughter while Euclid makes gestures for his own attendants to secure the ceremonial hall. Aspasia and Polydora, the bride's mother, are busy gathering all the other women and girls and ushering them from the hall. To avoid being swept along with them, I stoop down to the ground as though I've dropped something. Medusa is still standing close by, watching me in puzzlement as I closely examine the small pile of clothes Karmê had worn to her sister's wedding ceremony. Several things catch my eye as I examine the abandoned apparel. For one thing, there are no slashes on Karmê's dress that might otherwise have indicate that the garment has been ripped off her body. I also observe that there are no bloodstains present on the clothing, so it is not likely that Karmê was hauled away at dagger point.
And as these thoughts embed into my brain, I become aware of another clue in the vicinity. A familiar scent reaches my nostrils, but it is one that I have not inhaled since my father demoted me to mortal status. Despite this recent limitation, my goddess senses still seem to be with me. Mere mortals, to the best of my knowledge, cannot smell ambrosia! Ambrosia indicates the presence of a god or goddess; the strength of the aroma tells how long the deity has been present. If the mortals ever did realize that the gods often witness covert actions and words, they might be more careful in their day-to-day lives.
I am thus presented with a new possibility- that it was a god and not a mortal man who has kidnapped Karmê! I have barely come to this conclusion before Aspasia shoos Medusa and me out of the room.
"What do you suppose happened to Karmê?" Medusa asks me in a low voice. We are in a separate room adjacent to the ceremonial hall where the men remain, no doubt still trying to sort out the catastrophe of Karmê's disappearance. The said disaster is very much on the women's minds as well. In one corner sit the old crones, grandmothers and the fortunate few great-grandmothers. In a concentrated cluster they cluck at poor Karmê's chances of making a respectable marriage should she emerge from her abduction still unravished. On the far opposite side of the room are the maidens, children and girls yet to be betrothed. The children are playing a game with some discarded flower petals while the maidens giggle and chatter. No doubt they are pondering the identity of Karmê's abductor and discussing how handsome or ugly he is likely to be. Perhaps they are also fantasizing how "romantic" their abductions or weddings will be. If so, then Aphrodite has a lot to answer for!
The matrons and mothers, who are nearest to us in the vicinity, are too deep in domestic conversation to hear my reply to Medusa. For some reason, I find that I am unable to fabricate a suggestion that Karmê might have absconded with a lover- both Medusa and I know that to be a ludicrous idea. But at the same time, I am uncertain just how much of my thoughts I should reveal to my newest friend.
"I do not think that Karmê was taken away by an ordinary man," I say now. "Could she have just run off somewhere on a whim?"
Medusa shakes her head, a frown casting a shadow on her fair features. "Without her clothes? Karmê was so excited to be one of the maidens in Phoebe's bridal party," she explains to me. "She practically talked of nothing else last night, remember?"
I nod, recalling Karmê s high delight from the night before. "I think the person who took her away was not a man at all," I state, and then my thoughts carelessly tumble out of my mouth before I can stop myself. "I think it was a god!"