I was certain that the KBAG was still angry at me for the little affair with the wine jar and my claiming to have seen a goddess. Therefore of all the five other dakoroi that could have been sent to represent Hestia, I was somehow chosen to be anywhere near a ceremony in which the honoree himself might choose to grace us with his most undesired presence. I kept feeling sorry for myself until I saw the priests who had to perform the actual ritual.
Their black robes and hoods were as dark as the night, but not as black as the heart of the god to whom they paid homage. The prostrated worshippers beat their palms before a deep pit to ensure their prayers and curses would be heard by the Unseen One, the only deity whose name was dangerous to speak aloud. These supplicants were not evil; they did what had to be done. It was important to placate the god of the underworld, for every mortal would meet him sooner or later, preferably much later. Despite the warm sunshine, I shivered from my position behind the altar.
The pilgrims chanted over and over again as each offering was made before the pit. A masked man turned his head away and slit the throat of a little black lamb. The terrified wails of the helpless animal broke my heart, but I could not tear my eyes away from the gruesome sight. I had often watched my parents slaughter animals on our farm, but none to be sent directly to the terrible underworld. The lamb twitched feebly as its spurting blood was dripped into the bowels of the earth. A pig squealed when it met a similar fate.
The head priest hacked a leg off of each beast and put them in a basket that was almost as long as I was tall. "For Hestia," he announced. "May she forever keep our hearths burning."
On cue, I stepped forward and accepted the offerings. Due to reasons that accounted to "the gods work in mysterious ways," and "you're too little to understand," a part of any sacrifice had to be set aside for Hestia, for whom I slaved day and night. Or, more accurately, for the senior dakoroi who invoked the goddess' name as an excuse to boss me around.
"Hestia accepts this offer from the hand of… of Hades," I recited carefully. Everyone flinched when I spoke the second name. The priest and I bowed at each other and I started my long march back to the palace. By the decree of the wanax, may-Zeus-favor-his-reign, all rituals honoring the dreaded lord of the dead had to be performed well outside of the citadel gates so that any curses could not reach the royal family.
I struggled under the weight of my burden as I climbed the steeeep, looong ramp that led to the main gate of the fortress. I paused to wave at the slaves who built weapons, pressed oil, and carved statues in the workhouses that were scattered next to the ramp. These people were considerably dirtier than the ones who worked inside the palace proper and I envied them greatly.
When I approached the gate, I cut straight to the front of the line of carts and chariots. There was usually some traffic to and from the palace since it could not accommodate everyone who had official business during the day. Everyone glared at me but such was the privilege of a priestess, lowly dakoroi or not. The gods could not be kept waiting. The people in line began to grumble and clamor at the guards to put me in my place.
The head sentry scowled crankily. Of course, if I had to wear a snug kilt with red and blue flounces, fluffy tassels, and gold discs along the edges, then I, too, would have been in a foul mood. I tried not to stare too hard at the spear clutched in the guard's left hand or the sword and knife strapped to his waist. How many weapons did one man need?
His identically dressed (and armed) partners stared me down. The insolent little thing, I knew they were thinking. Flittering in and out of the citadel while we're stuck guarding it against pompous courtiers and hopeful peasants.
"I am a dakoroi of Hestia," I told them, as if my uniform did not make it obvious. I lifted my pass, a clay tablet hung around my neck.
"Where does that accent come from?" the ranking soldier demanded. He spoke with the grandstanding air of the recently promoted.
"Eleusis," I answered with resignation. I knew what was coming. I had quickly learned that Mycenaeans tended to be suspicious of outsiders.
"Why do you not serve in the Athenian palace. Do you not harbor loyalties towards Theseus?"
Zeus does favor his reign, I thought treacherously. "The Athenian palace needed men, not maidens. I am loyal to the gods and the high king Eurystheus, who is the highest vessel of the gods."
Although the guards knew very well I served in the palace, they often liked to make a Very Dramatic Example of foreigners such as myself in case a spy was lurking around to infiltrate the defenses. I put on my best innocent face to meet their best fierce faces.
The merry summer weather did nothing to soften the glare of the imposing rock walls that flanked us on either side, nor that of the men who guarded said walls. I hoped for a distraction, perhaps the two lions carved above the gate would leap out of the stone relief and devour all these soldiers who had failed to make the cut for real warfare.
"I'm keeping my eyes on you," the leader said finally. "I think you're suspicious." With a sharp gesture, he waved me through.
The wooden gates opened to reveal a little roofed court that provided a bright contrast to the drab gray fortifications outside.
The entire citadel was like an abalone shell I had seen once. It was dull and rocky on the outside but beautifully multicolored on the inside. The people were the opposite, bright on the outside, dull (and irritable) on the inside.
As I panted and trod along the uphill road, I occasionally leaned against the mighty columns of red stucco that kept charioteers from straying off the path. Just in case someone did do so, there were plenty of mean looking warriors marching around.
I squinted at the palace, a massive stone structure that perched precariously at the top of the craggy hill. From the outside, it looked as if a giant had randomly stuck terraces on it and propped them up with columns of all different lengths. I willed the entire thing to slide down towards me so I would not have to walk any further. At times like these, I missed the green meadows and farmlands of Eleusis where there were stretches of untouched (and relatively flat) land.
When I finally reached the palace entry, I had to pass inspection at another gate. Once I entered, I squeezed through the minor crowd that usually filled up the narrow hallways and cramped rooms. The palace was buzzing with slaves who were always carrying something, priests who were always foretelling doom, and tourists who were always gawking. Business as usual.
"It's a legitimate business expenditure," I overhead a merchant saying. "When I work with these foreigners, they expect gifts."
"You want a tax cut for the bribes you pay to your trading partners?" the official replied acidly.5
"Please let my daughter work here for one of the gods," someone begged.
"The summer is almost over, you should have brought her three moons ago," snapped a priest.
I accidentally wound up by the megaron when I was actually trying to get to the Archives Room of the west wing. After all, the palace was designed to direct everyone to the central block of the palace. If one had any other destination in mind, it was like navigating through a labyrinth built for a minotaur. However, instead of running into a half bull, I often encountered people with similarly short tempers. Most of them bore cranky expressions to rival those featured in the frescoes that boasted glorious scenes of war and hunting.
"No, no, no!" a scribe shouted. "The census figures are all wrong. That breed of dog doesn't counts as a household pet."
I tracked my steps back and finally made it to the chamber where all the sacrifices were processed and tracked before they were either eaten or burnt.
"Do not bounce about so," one of the priests scolded as soon as I entered. He stood at a table covered with rows of different locks of hair. He was carefully measuring each chunk, making notes on a tablet, and tying each bundle with a ribbon. Peasant worshipers often left pieces of their hair outside the citadel so that their offerings could be blessed by a priest.
He suddenly froze in mid task. "Boy!" he barked at one of the slaves. "I told you to make more brown ribbons. Locks of hair are usually made to Artemis. Her ribbons must be brown, not this orangish brown. Orange is for Athena!"
The slave bowed and rushed off to dye some more strips of brown.
Most of the other people in the room were bent over looming stacks of tablets. When the Key Bearer to Hestia saw me, she acknowledged me with a deliberate nod. I ducked my head back, it seemed to be the polite thing to do.
"A tribute to Hestia from the Rich One," I reported. I measured, weighed, and logged in the sacrifices but the KBH stopped me with a pointed look.
"Your figures are wrong," she murmured. "Have you already forgotten that two comes after one? Have we not taught you letters and numbers for the past three moons?"
I hung my head. "It is only off by one number," I offered.
The Key Bearer to all the Goddesses swooped over. "What have I told you?" she demanded. "You must leave nothing unaccounted for. You must note every drop of oil, grain of wheat, and whisker of boar. If the records are not meticulous, the gods will be angry."
"Why is it so important to keep records of all the offerings? Won't the gods know what we give them anyway?" I asked.
"The gods are too busy to keep track of such trivial things."
"If it is so trivial why does it matter?"
"The gods are always watching."
"Why would they watch over something so trivial?" I was starting to get confused..
A priest frowned at the KBAG. "Do you not train your girls to stay silent? And why are they running around unguarded all the time? It is a horrid waste of eunuchs."
"No one is worried about their virginities. There is a reason they are not betrothed by now," quipped the Key Bearer to Demeter. "Especially this one." She smiled and winked at me.
The KBD seemed to like me since I was from Eleusis. After all, there was a shrine to Demeter in my home village. However, the priestess' answer stung, well meant it may be. Indeed, my father should have promised me to someone three years ago, rather he had sent me to a faraway palace so someone else would have to feed and clothe me. My eyes and hair are the color of mud, I suppose this did not make me very attractive to potential suitors.
"Shall I take the meat to the kitchens?" I asked hopefully. The kitchen was one of my favorite places in the palace.
"Yes," said the KBH.
I began to trot away with a happy skip in my step.
"And don't forget to purify yourself," the KBAG called.
I sighed.
#
Ch. 3
Towards the end of summer, the leaves starting to change color as well as the moods of the senior palace staff. They grew snappier, anxious, and excitable.
"The wanax is coming," the KBH would say. "You mustn't let the soot build up like that in his presence."
It had never bothered her before.
"Fan the fire," I was told. So I fanned the perfectly roaring fire.
"Not like that," chided Stamatia. She made a dramatic show of flailing her arms. I imitated her.
"Why haven't these sacrifices been logged?" she demanded.
"You told me clean out the libation basins-."
"No, you always do the sacrifices first!"
The KBH chose four of the dakoroi to tend to the fire while the wanax was in the throne room. She picked the two oldest girls, Eupheme, and me since we were the youngest.
"The wanax fears assassination," she said. "The guards will be less likely to pick on you."
So, one would think.
The KBAG, KBHestia, KBHera, and Head Slave for Zeus, and a handful of other priests, slaves, and courtiers awaited the grand procession in the courtyard.
"The wanax!" the herald cried. "Behold Eurystheus, the Blessed Sovereign of Mycenae and Tiryns, First Brother of Royal Brothers, chief commander of the fighting people, and High Priest of His subjects!"
Eurystheus, the Blessed Sovereign of Mycenae and Tiryns, First Brother of Royal Brothers, chief commander of the fighting people, and High Priest of his subjects, wore a giant diadem of gold and sparkling jewels that came down to his noble brow. His tunic had alternating patterns of purple, yellow, and blue. The bottom half of his skirt had an endless number of tiny pleats that spread to reveal a complicated gold pattern whenever he moved his legs.
When I saw him up close, I was disappointed to see that he was just an ordinary man in extraordinary clothing. He was skinny and diminutive, almost frail looking. His generals towered over him. Nonetheless, he had a noble bearing and a handsome face.
#
The actor portraying Heracles was completely naked and smeared with brown paint. He lumbered around with exaggerated movements and bent at the waist with his arms hanging down. Everyone laughed as he ran about the stage and made a show of scratching his head. Then he gave a long speech about how incompetent he was. "I killed my own wife and children in a fit of madness," he concluded. "I must win forgiveness my performing ten labors that King Eurystheus puts on my head.
Then they showed various scenes of him accomplishing his various tasks with dumb luck and divine intervention.
"Zeus is my father and will do anything to see me succeed!" he blabbered to a crowd that booed and threw wine at him.
It all led up to a grand finale with the 9th labor.
"Bring me the girdle of Hippolyte," actor-Eurystheus thundered. "This shall be your 9th Labor."
Theseus was portrayed similarly but with a cheap looking diadem on his mussed head. I was mortified! Theseus was considered a great king in Eleusis and Heracles was practically a legend.
Heracles blundered around with the Amazons and made a dopey show of killing Hippolyte by accident. He and Theseus ran around in circles while the Amazons (represented by wild looking women, also smeared in paint) shook their crude spears angrily.
"Now that the Amazons are already angry, I shall infuriate them even more by taking a pretty trophy!" Theseus announced. He grabbed Antiope and ran with Heracles onto the boat.
When the wanax began to chuckle, everyone roared with laughter.
I had never heard so much forced laughter in my life. Personally, I could not see what was so funny.
The actor-Heracles returned to the actor-Eurystheus and presented him with the girdle. Then actor Eurytheus presented the prop to the real king, who was sitting in the audience.
"In honor of the princess's birthday, this play has been performed. The tale of how her gift was acquired."
Eurystheus turned to his oldest daughter. "Nine years ago I sent Heracles to bring me this very girdle. I have been saving it for this very day when my daughter has become a woman. It is my desire that you wear this on your wedding night. It will make you unbearably beautiful to your husband."
Admete looked bored.
"I want a pet tiger," she said.
"You already have a pet leopard."
"I want a tiger!" she screamed.
"Then you shall have one," he chuckled. "Child, your husband shall be kept very busy with your demands."
One of his sons pulled out a sword and started waving it. "May I have a tiger too, Father?"
"Peace, child, you'll poke someone's eye out," replied the king. "Of course you can have a tiger."
I shuddered. Admete's pet leopard already terrorized many of the servants.
#
The KBH was usually calm and collected but today she was very agitated. The Key Bearer to Hera was giving her own dakoroi similar instructions.
"Wait in the porch until a guard waves you through. Do not linger in the anteroom. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Go through the door one at a time. Go straight to the hearth. Do not make any hasty moves, or the guards may strike you down. Tend the hearth quietly and discreetly. Do not speak. Do not make noise. Do not be seen. When the wanax arrives, bow. Never turn your back at the wanax, the throne, or the hearth. Don't look too fidgety, or the guards will get suspicious."
I tried to remember this all and attempted to follow the instructions to the letter. I kept my head bowed as I took my station. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wanax leaning forward in his throne as a lawagetas approached him and saluted in the halfhearted way that generals have.
The wanax did not look pleased. "General Machia," he said softly. "Surely you do not come before me to ask for more gold?"
"My great king, may Zeus favor your reign," the lawagetas started. "Surely you are willing to spare any expense for the defense of our great state. There can be no price for our is necessary as you are in a precarious position. Argos is keen to reclaim Tiryns. Heracles and his children want to claim your throne in the name of Zeus' true will. Heracles has already dethroned many kings and replaced them with puppets. He killed Laomedon of Troy and put Priam on the throne. He defeated the Bebrycians and gave most of their land to Lycus, who renamed it Heraclea. He took land from the Thracians and gave it to the sons of Androgeus. He is toppling kings and putting his own men in power to lead a rebellion against you."
"How is it that Heracles has so much time to leave debauched maidens, bastard children, and scorched corpses in his wake? I have kept him busy with impossible labors and yet he single handedly manages to topple kings," he noted coldly. "Why is that one wanderer needs no supplies from a treasury and yet my generals keep begging for more?"
"My king, Heracles has the backing of Athens," the general pointed out. "His sons are excellent warlords. He is not as alone as it may seem."
"General, you are as coy as the coveted whore who blushes like a maiden and spurns every advance for a higher price. You keep relieving me of my gold, but never quite my lust. You need new weapons for your men, so I give you enough bronze to arm them a hundred times over. You need to feed your men, so I give you enough grain to feed them for a hundred years. You need new uniforms, so I have a hundred spinster spin. If you desire your patron to empty his purse of silk, you must first empty his purse of flesh. Where is my glory, my land, my streams of tribute?"
"When you give shiny trinkets to a whore, you see the reward immediately. But attaining glory takes time and risk."
"The scribes keep records that are vaster than my stores of gold, and yet there is so much that goes unaccounted for. Do your men have two stomachs? Does the gold I give sink back into the earth?"
"Our spies abroad reassure us that the Amazons are ready to retaliate against Heracles and Theseus. For his 9th labor, he stole a most treasured girdle and killed Hippolyte in the process. His companion Theseus took Antiope as a prize. If we join this fight, we will surely attain much gold from the savages.
"What gold do the Amazons have?" Eurystheus scoffed. "If they are willing to fight over a girdle, then they must have little wealth indeed."
There was silence before the wanax spoke again.
"So Theseus," he said. "Will he be able to fight off the barbarian army? He grows in popularity and power. How can I undermine him?
"Only 8 seasons ago, I aided him in his campaign against Thebes. But that was only to appease our allies Orchomenos, which is still a bitter rival of Thebes. Did Theseus not accompany Heracles on his journey to the Amazons? I do not like this friendship."
The advisor bowed. "It would not be wise to advertise any animosity against Athens and Theseus."
"Indeed not," the wanax replied. "Is there no dirt on Theseus? I do recall how Orchomenos has caused the pestilence upon Thebes most beautifully. I do wish I could send a plague to Athens as well? It's so hard to smuggle in a diseased corpse. And where to find one at this time of the year?"
We must consult the gods, he decided. "Priestess!" he barked. Stamatia stepped forward and bowed, although she had suddenly turned very pale.
"What say you on the imminent war upon Athens? Shall I stand by my old ally or watch the Amazons tear him down?
"My king," she said. "When Orchomenos sent pestilence to Thebes, the people thought it to be the doing of the gods. Perhaps Athens could suffer the same fate as well."
"Yes but where will be find a plagued body. It's not the season."
One of the advisors balked. "You ask the opinion of a mere girl? What does she know of the affairs of men?" He was one of the newer faces in the palace who was apparently unfamiliar with the wanax's standard procedure.
Eurystheus tapped his head patiently. "The gods speak to them. The gods speak to all of us, but men are too busy with mortal affairs to hear these divine voices. A woman is simple enough to hear, and obey."
What he didn't know was that the KBAG had carefully trained each of us to give whatever answer he obviously wanted.
***