Destroyer of Light (39 page)

It couldn’t be allowed to happen. Surely a clean break in their attachment was more merciful than that miserable fate. But her daughter seemed to love her new husband and would never rule the Underworld without him. Not unless something devastating and irreversible were to—

Her eyes widened. Her feet carried her from the hallway, down the steps to the center of the Telesterion and out the great double doors. She glanced around the narrow walkway and the row of small cottages south of the great temple. Turning on her heels, Demeter quickly paced the cold streets, her feet bare, her face and hair cloaked. When she came to a simple dwelling next to a trickling brook, she stopped, taking a deep breath.

Demeter pushed open the door, and stood over the sleeping girl within.

“Minthe.”

“Hmm?” The naiad rubbed her bleary eyes. “My lady! You’re still awake at this hour?”

“I have something to ask of you.” Demeter set the lamp on Minthe’s table and leaned on the side of her bed. “Your beloved mother died of a broken heart. I helped her in her hour of need, and when she passed, I bound her spirit forever to the poplar trees in Thesprotia so she wouldn’t have to return below— a
living
monument to the injustice done to her. If you ever wanted retribution for what she suffered, and for what you suffered by losing her…”

Minthe sat up, her eyes wide, her skin prickling. Demeter slowly shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

“If you
ever
loved me or my daughter, if you ever cared at all for Kore, you will do
this
for me…”

Celeus and Triptolemus,
Diocles and Eumolpus, stood waiting, a long oak box before them. When the first light of dawn touched the Telesterion, each stepped forward and placed a object in the box: a full blade of wheat, an eggshell, a crocus bulb, and finally a clay phallus. To the initiates of the Eleusinian Mysteries, this signaled the beginning of winter, and the promise that spring and fertility would return again.

Persephone got a final look at the crowd before Eumolpus draped a long saffron veil over her face and down to her waist, then placed a crown of asphodel and crocus on her head. She was glad that the gathered masses could no longer see her. Her drawn and tired expression had been mistaken by the townsfolk for reticence— they suspected she did not want to return to the Underworld and her lord husband. Persephone feared that her puffy red-rimmed eyes had tainted everything she’d accomplished since returning to the world above. Even loyal Eumolpus looked at her ruefully. She needed to speak with Aidoneus to confirm with the man who had sworn on the Styx to always tell her the truth whether or not they would be able to have children… and whether or not he’d known all along that the answer to that question was ‘no’.

Most of the Eleusinian priesthood dressed in funerary indigo, but Eumolpus’s followers discreetly wore nuptial saffron chitons underneath their dark robes. The irony didn’t escape Persephone. She held a heavy bouquet of poppies, crocus, asphodel, echinacea, and narcissus so broad that she could barely see her feet. Celeus and Metaneira guided her from the Telesterion to the Plutonion. They looked ghostly through the thick veil, like the shades they would one day become. A
koudounia
rang behind her, carried by a little girl cloaked in indigo. A funeral. A wedding.

Diocles spoke between the shakings of the bells. “I sing of lovely-haired Demeter, great goddess, of her and of her slender-ankled Kore whom Zeus, all-seeing and loud-thundering, gave to the Receiver of Many to wed…”

Persephone half-listened to the hymn that Diocles had busied himself writing over the last few weeks. Though she feared she would trip over her own feet, she was thankful for the covering. All eyes were focused on her at a time she would much rather spend alone, reflecting on her impending journey. The procession arrived at the door of the Plutonion, now standing fully enclosed by marble blocks. Offerings were piled against the outside walls nearly three paces deep. There was barely enough room for her to walk to the entrance. The procession and music stopped.

Eumolpus stepped forward and raised his hood over his head, the assembled acolytes doing the same. He waited, listening to the wind and seabirds before he spoke. “No man, once the earth has covered him and he has descended into darkness, the home of Persephone, has the pleasure of listening to the lure of the piper or of raising wine to his lips. So too we have forgone wine as our sacrifice and have filled the home of Plouton, the Rich One, the Receiver of Many, with the fresh bounty and fruits of our labors to mark the return of his cherished bride.” He cleared his throat and unrolled a scroll. “The Archon of Athens sends two score amphorae of oil to thank Karpophoros, the bringer of fruit, for the bounteous crops of olive. To Plouton and Kore, the beekeepers of Kekropis give honeyed kykeon. The great house of Ceryces, long the servants of the Mother and the Maiden, offer pomegranates, the fruit that bound the Maiden forever to the world below and to her husband’s side. The house of Antiochis offers figs, the first of all fruits to appear. The house of Pandionis offer dates and pomegranates…”

Persephone stifled a yawn as Eumolpus listed every offering from every illustrious family and tribe in Attica.

“I wish you would reconsider,” Demeter said quietly as the list of offerings droned on.

“Taking Minthe with me?”

“Daughter, you are a queen. All queens have servants.”

“We don’t have or need servants.”

“What about Merope?”

“She was a friend and my guest.”

“…Who attended to you. As all the nymphs living along the rivers of the Underworld should.”

“They are their own creatures. I would feel silly ordering them about.”

“Nonsense,” she said under her breath. “You are in every way equal to Hera, and should act the part. Even her humblest servants are goddesses in their own right. Would it be so terrible to to take a mere nymph under your wing?”

“It wouldn’t be
terrible
, but—”

“It would be like sending Minthe home.”

“I don’t know if Minthe would call it that. She was conceived above. She was born above.”

“Her entire family is below. And she often told me she would like to see her aunts and cousins one day.”

“What has prevented her from doing so?”

Demeter looked at her feet, her voice low. “It was my fault. I forbade her.”

Persephone nodded. Demeter was trying. She was trying so very hard, and Persephone was surprised that her mother hadn’t broken down crying. Three months ago, Persephone had dreaded this day, fearing that Demeter would scream hysterically and try to drag her bodily away from the door of the Plutonion.

How things had changed.

She turned her gaze to Minthe, who seemed to be the only congregant who wasn’t fidgeting or yawning while waiting for Eumolpus to stop talking. On the contrary, he held the pretty naiad’s rapt attention.

“For six months, then,” Persephone muttered.

“You’ll try having a servant?”

“I suppose it could work. Then she could be back among the mortals for half the year.”

“I doubt it she’d miss them.”

“I would beg to differ,” she said, nodding her head at Eumolpus.

“The priesthood in Dion has let it be known that the Loud-Thunderer, father of the Maiden, has promised the island of Sikelia to her as a wedding gift…” he said to the crowd.

The corner of Demeter’s mouth turned up. “We shall see.”

Persephone smiled. She wouldn’t reduce Minthe to waiting on her. The girl would wander freely. Though not
too
freely, she worried, imagining what could happen to Minthe if she ventured too close to the Lethe. But surely her family would welcome and care for her.

When the priest had finished listing offerings, Demeter gave Eumolpus a curt nod.

His shoulders slumped and he drew in a long breath. “And finally, the great Lady of the Harvest, Demeter Anesidora, commits Minthe, daughter of the river god Kokytos, into the service of her daughter, to attend to the great Queen Beneath the Earth, Soteira, savior of mankind. Know this, all who hear these words! Those who journey below, return to the world above, just as that which is planted will be reaped and the seeds sown.”

Eumolpus produced a crocus bulb from his robes and rested on his haunches, digging up a handful of earth and burying the bulb in front of the Plutonion. He stood and one of his students poured goat’s milk from a wide kylix over the newly planted bulb.

“For the Maiden’s return!”

“For the Maiden’s return,” answered the Eleusinians.

Persephone looked at her mother, her eyes watering. She dropped the bouquet and wrapped her arms tightly around Demeter, who held her and shuddered, trying not to cry. The Goddess of the Harvest bit her lips together and stepped back, then lowered an indigo veil over her face so the Eleusinians wouldn’t see her weep.

A hand stretched forth from the doorway of the Plutonion. Persephone flinched before realizing that it was Hermes. She gazed one last time at the crowd of mortals, then nodded to Minthe, who picked up her skirts and trudged after her, her eyes cast to the ground. The congregants stood silent, waiting. Persephone took the God of Travel’s proffered hand and stepped over a large pile of pomegranates just inside the threshold.

Once inside, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Sunlight filtered into the Plutonion from a high clerestory at the roof of the cave, and small lamps lit the walls, illuminating the statues of her and her husband. Their images were crowned with laurels and poplar, pomegranate leaves and asphodel and draped in finely loomed saffron robes. Minthe shut the door behind them.

“Gods above; is he going to drone on like that every year?” Hermes whispered, a half smile on his face. “And this temple to you and Hades! Best one I’ve seen so far. Not surprising, of course. You wouldn’t believe—”

“Where were you three days ago?” Persephone asked angrily, tearing off the cumbersome veil and the flower crown with it.

“What?”

“When I was on Olympus. You said you’d meet me there and keep me safe. You
promised me!
”

“Listen, I’m sorry.”

“Do have any idea what Apollo said to me?” She balled up the veil and threw it to the floor. Persephone looked around the room. Every corner was piled with amphorae and pithos of all sizes, leaning against one another, fruits, wheat, oil, coins, clay and straw figurines, flowers…It was almost impossible to move.

“By now,
everyone
knows what Apollo said to you… and how you rebuffed him.  I hear Aphrodite took a liking to you!”

“What was so important that you let me be fed to the wolves? What do you think my husband would say if—”

“It was an errand for your husband that delayed me.” Hermes said, his brow knitting.

Persephone calmed, her shoulders sinking. “I’m sorry.”

Hermes gave her a half-smile. “Don’t be. I can’t imagine the last few days were easy for you.” He cautiously patted her shoulder then peered at the nymph standing behind her. “Who is this?”

The naiad pushed a blonde lock of hair behind her ear. “Minthe.”

“Really…” He smiled. “Are you a Leimenid or a Potameid, perhaps?”

“Cocytid.”

“Ah, so you’re going home, then?”

“One could say that,” Minthe glanced away, rubbing her arm. She narrowed her eyes at Hermes. “Daeira is doing well.”

“S-she… that’s good. Good.”

“If your child is a boy, she said she’ll name it Eleusis, after the town.”

“Wonderful. I’m glad.”

“Stop trying to seduce my handmaiden, Hermes.” Persephone smirked at him, then sighed in frustration. “I don’t understand why you even need to take me to the Underworld. I could simply open a path to the throne room and there I would be.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I…”

“You’ve had ample opportunity. And for months everyone on Olympus has known that you are able to do so. Why hesitate?”

Persephone swallowed. “I had promises to keep. I didn’t… I needed to be here for the mortals. I-if my mother knew that I was sneaking away to the world below…”

Hermes smiled. “Whatever you say.”

“Should I just take all of us to the palace?” Persephone said, shifting from foot to foot. “My way is faster.”

“I would feel more comfortable following your husband’s orders,” Hermes said, raising his eyebrows. “He commanded me to bring you to the shores of the Styx.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled and held out both his hands. “Ladies?”

Minthe cautiously gripped his fingers, and Persephone followed her lead.

“Hold on tight.”

Hermes lifted off the ground, and Persephone felt as light as a feather, her feet rising effortlessly. The room blurred around them, and the little lamplights streaked past her vision. Minthe shrieked.

Persephone felt pulled and pushed all at once, the wind itself too slow to touch them. The room was gone. Shapes appeared and disappeared almost as quickly as Persephone could recognize them. She saw the roads through the earth, stalactites hanging overhead, endless caverns through which they dodged this way and that, and a few souls drifting toward the world below. Blackness consumed the blur of caves and pathways rushing by. The waking, breathing life of the sunlit world lay far behind her, and she inhaled the familiar cool mists and wet earth of her home.

***

Hermes alighted on the far side of the Styx. Persephone was so accustomed to seeing it crowded with souls that she didn’t recognize the banks. Asphodel grew there again, tall and thick, rebounding quickly now that the droves of hungry shades were gone. Persephone knelt and plucked a single ghostly flower, tucking it into her chignon.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Hermes said to Minthe, who was shaking, either from the journey or their new surroundings.

Persephone clasped her hand. “Minthe, it’s all right. This is home.”

“H-home…” The nymph took a deep breath. “Is it always so brightly lit?”

“During the daytime in Chthonia, the Styx is…” Persephone trailed off. It was nighttime in the Underworld. The great River was supposed to be dark. She looked out across the brightly lit water.

Thousands— no,
thousands of thousands
of floating flames lit its broad expanse, drifting on the calm currents from as far as she could see upstream out to the endless dark sea of Oceanus. They looked like stars flickering in the night sky. Great bursts of white light flickered and sparkled in the river’s reflection. She looked up through the mist to the palace beyond. Every causeway, every tower and passage of the palace burned brightly, lit with torches of white
magnes
… the unquenchable flame that guided her descent into Tartarus. Persephone’s mouth hung open.