Wrath of the Furies (22 page)

What a starkly different experience this was. Our procession consisted only of myself and the two holy men and a troop of spear-bearers to protect us. (And Bethesda, of course, trailing behind. What did she make of this peculiar experience? This was her introduction to one of the world's greatest marvels, the Temple of Artemis, and I feared any wonderment she felt would be forever tainted by the circumstances.)

The shallow valley surrounding the temple is a large open space with scattered trees for shade, grassy in places and trampled to bare dirt in others, suitable for accommodating the huge crowds that attend the festivals at Ephesus. On this occasion the crowd consisted of sullen-looking Roman refugees. They kept their distance as we paraded before them and congregated at the altar. They stared at us with blank expressions. I found it unnerving to look at them. I averted my eyes.

At the great altar a group of Megabyzoi awaited us. They had already washed the altar and were busy stoking the incense braziers and the roasting pyre. The lamb was in a small enclosure nearby, out of sight, but occasionally it bleated, sending a murmur of excitement through the crowd of hungry refugees.

Standing on the raised platform before the altar, I looked over the heads of the crowd to the steps that led up to the colonnaded porch of the temple. Above the porch, the soaring columns supported a triangular pediment. In all the other Greek temples I had seen, the pediment was decorated with statues that filled the entire space, but the Temple of Artemis was different. At its center, where the triangle was highest, the pediment had a circular window, and standing inside this window, as if looking down on those of us gathered at the altar, was an ancient wooden statue of the goddess. The statue was larger than life-size and brightly painted. Standing stiffly upright, the goddess wore a mural crown and a necklace of acorns. A mass of pendulous, gourd-shaped protrusions hung from her upper body, said by some to be multiple breasts and by others to be the testicles of bulls. From this circular window high above the temple porch, the goddess would be able to see everything that took place at the altar.

The hungry, watching crowd unnerved me. So did the watching Artemis. It occurred to me that I was about to be the instigator of a flagrantly impious act, fraudulently calling upon an Olympian goddess to cure a nonexistent ailment. What if the goddess took offense, and by way of revenge forced me to speak? I would be known at once for a Roman. Would I be cast into the crowd of refugees, forced to join them? Or would I face a swifter, more terrible punishment?

If I were killed on the spot, what would become of Bethesda? I looked about, wondering where she had gone, and realized she was standing at the front of the crowd before the raised platform, directly before me. The altar blocked my view; I could see only her face, peering up at me. I tried to give her a smile of reassurance, but whatever crooked semblance of a smile I manage lacked conviction. She did not smile back.

Standing beside me, the Great Megabyzus raised his arms and began an invocation to Artemis, reciting her many names and attributes and acknowledging the many blessings she had bestowed on Ephesus. As he droned on, I looked at Bethesda, and then at the faces in the crowd around her. Who were all these people? The Roman citizens were easily picked out by their togas. I presumed that most of these men were, or had been, merchants or moneymen or managers. With them were their wives and children, including teenaged sons too young to wear the toga, and household slaves. There were other men not dressed in togas, but who did not have the look of slaves. They had to be so-called Rome-lovers who had been driven out of the city along with the Romans.

My gaze wandered to one far edge of the crowd, beyond the temple grounds, where I saw a row of laborers with shovels. They appeared to be digging a very long trench, with a waist-high ridge of excavated dirt alongside it. The reason for all this digging puzzled me for a moment, until it occurred to me that the trench must be intended to give the sanctuary-seekers a place to bury their waste. That would go a long way to relieving the stench that surrounded the temple, which must surely have been offensive to the goddess herself.

The Great Megabyzus suddenly fell silent. Two priests took hold of my arms and pulled me closer to the altar. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought they were going to throw me upon it, but they only wanted me to stand closer to the sacrifice, where Artemis could see me more clearly. The Great Megabyzus was fitted with a sort of apron, to protect his yellow clothing from the blood—for in one hand he now held a slaughtering knife and in the other a small ax, the sacred tools he would use to cut the lamb's throat, skin the creature, and then dismember it.

“Great Artemis of Ephesus!” he shouted, so loudly that I gave a start. “We pray that you will restore the voice of this mortal who has been struck mute! Let the tongue of Agathon of Alexandria speak again, so that he may utter endless paeans of thanksgiving in your honor!”

The bound lamb was brought forth and placed on the altar. At the sight of it, the crowd released a groan the likes of which I had never heard before. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, hardly human but expressing endless human misery. If no smell, however noxious, could kill a man, then surely no sound could kill a man, either. But were there sounds that could drive a man mad? This one, if it continued much longer, might be one of them.

As if to counter the horrible groan, some of the Megabyzoi began to ululate and to shake rattles and tambourines. This frantic music combined with the miserable noise of the crowd to create a discord that set my teeth on edge.

With a single motion, the Great Megabyzus cut the lamb's throat. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, but not a drop of it struck the Great Megabyzus. With sure, steady motions—clearly, he had much experience at this sort of butchery—he proceeded to skin the carcass, and then to slice it open, removing some organs and leaving others in place. The altar was tilted slightly toward him, so that the blood drained into a channel and then into drains on either side. A portion of the sacrifice was offered to Artemis—the heart, perhaps, for it was oozing with blood and still seemed to be pulsing—and was then cast onto the pyre. Smoke alone is said to be the only nourishment the gods need. The grosser, material parts of the animal—the viscera and the flesh—are suitable sustenance for mankind, but not for immortals.

Various parts of the animal were thrown on the pyre. At the smell of roasting flesh, the murmur of the crowd expressed an almost unbearable anguish. The rattles and tambourines of the ululating Megabyzoi grew louder and more frenzied.

“Is some of the meat for us?” cried one man.

“It must be!” cried another.

“But there's only one lamb. One lamb can't feed us all!”

“Maybe there are more animals to be sacrificed. There must be. They can't let us starve!”

The throng before the altar became more compact and crowded, as those on the edge were drawn by the wild music and the commotion and the smell of charred flesh. Bethesda was jostled about. Suddenly I lost sight of her.

The Great Megabyzus set aside his knife and ax. His fellow priests helped him remove his apron, then held a basin of water so that he could wash his hands. He stepped toward me with open arms and startled me with an unexpected embrace.

He whispered in my ear, “May Artemis bless you! May the goddess heal you and make you whole! There is nothing we can do for all these poor wretches—except, perhaps, show them a miracle. Do you understand? If Artemis chooses to cure you, might she not show mercy to these wretches and somehow save them from their suffering? Your cure could give them hope, if nothing else.”

His words, and the mercy he had shown to the Roman at the gate, confused me. Did he not hate the Romans as much as every other Ephesian? He stepped back and looked into my eyes, as if he expected the miracle to occur at that very moment. Without thinking I opened my mouth, and I saw his eyes light up.

I bit my lips and shut my mouth. The Great Megabyzus continued to stare at me for a long moment, then took my arm and led me to the roasting pyre.

“You must eat the first portion,” he said. He picked up his knife and ax. He chopped a piece of meat, deftly carved it, spitted a piece on the tip of the knife and offered it to me. I took the smoking morsel between my teeth. I felt the ooze of the charred fat on my lips and tasted the bloody flesh on my tongue. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the distant statue of Artemis move—but when I turned to look, she stood as stiff as ever in the circular opening of the pediment.

I looked down at the crowd, trying to spot Bethesda. The sea of faces was now in constant motion. Like waves, the crowd surged against the edge of the raised platform. The spear-bearers formed a cordon around the perimeter of the platform, tilting their spears toward the surrounding crowd to hold them back.

The Megabyzoi were now eating their share of the sacrifice, looking anxiously over their shoulders. As I watched them hurriedly chew and champ their jaws and wipe juice from their chins, it struck me that there is no dignified way for a mortal to ingest his food. When others eat, we politely look elsewhere—anywhere but at their mouths, as if the organ were doing something obscene. No wonder the gods prefer to live on smoke!

The spear-bearers were given a share, which they ate in turns, some eating while the others held the crowd in check. The sound of the crowd grew to a roar, drowning out the music of the rattles and tambourines.

The Grand Magus, with a look of alarm on his face, drew close to the Great Megabyzus. Above the noise all around us, I strained to hear what he said.

“You obviously underestimated the reaction of the Roman rabble. We should have brought more men, or else cleared the crowd from the temple grounds beforehand.”

“These people came to the temple seeking sanctuary,” said the Great Megabyzus. “There is a sacred obligation—”

“Your first obligation is to keep us alive!” snapped the Grand Magus. “I suggest we retreat at once.”

The Great Megabyzus looked at the crowd, then at me.

The Grand Magus grabbed his arm. “If you're still waiting for this mute to speak—”

“He must sleep overnight in the temple,” said the Great Megabyzus. “I never expected him to speak at once. Suppliants often make prayers and sacrifices first, then spend the night in the sanctuary, awaiting the goddess to visit them in a dream.”

“Do you expect us all to stay here overnight?” The Grand Magus looked outraged.

“Of course not. Only the suppliant must do so.”

“What's to keep him from wandering off?”

“One of the Megabyzoi will watch over him, as is customary.”

“Better to leave some of these spear-bearers.”

The Great Megabyzus shook his head. “No man is allowed carry a weapon into the temple.”

“Then have them stand guard outside the door!”

“That would only provoke the crowd. What's to keep these desperate people from overwhelming any guards we leave here, and taking their weapons? No, I shall assign a single priest to accompany the suppliant, and sleep beside him inside the temple. Tomorrow morning, if Agathon of Alexandria can speak again, we shall know that he is not, and never was, the man we need for the ritual. On the other hand, if he's still mute—”

“But either way, he may wander off!”

The Great Megabyzus looked at me shrewdly. “Not if we hold something dear to him.”

The Grand Magus pursed his lips. “What manner of surety could we take from him? You've seen the man naked. The only jewelry on his person is that lion's tooth around his neck.”

“He has a piece of property he values much more than that.”

The Grand Magus looked puzzled, but with a sinking heart I perceived the Great Megabyzus's intent. I looked at the crowd again, searching for Bethesda, and saw her nowhere. She seemed to have vanished. Then I saw that the Great Megabyzus was looking at someone behind me. Bethesda stood on the platform, only a few steps away from me. She had worked her way through the surging crowd, and the spear-bearers had allowed her through the cordon. My heart leaped at the sight of her—and then grew cold when the Great Megabyzus spoke.

“We'll hold the girl for surety,” he said, nodding toward Bethesda.

“A slave girl?” The Grand Magus scoffed. “That's no kind of surety!”

“I think, Grand Magus, you have not been very observant. If you doubt the value Agathon places on the slave, just look at his face.”

The Grand Magus squinted at me, then at Bethesda. “Ah, yes. I see what you mean. Very well, if the mute must be left to sleep in the sanctuary of the goddess, let one of your priests accompany him, to see that all is done properly, while we hold his slave as surety.”

The Great Megabyzus nodded. “And in the morning, whatever the goddess decides, the priest will escort Agathon back to the palace—”

“Yes, yes! The matter is settled. Now, let's get out of here. Quickly, before this crowd of Roman filth turns into a howling mob!”

The Megabyzoi set about extinguishing the incense braziers and the roasting pyre.

“They're putting out the fires!” someone in the crowd yelled. “Where is the meat for us? Is there no more meat?”

“Impossible!” cried a woman. “Our children must have food. If not meat, then bread. Anything, to fill their bellies. Priests of Artemis, we beg you! Would the goddess see children starve to death on her doorstep?”

I saw the Great Megabyzus cringe, but the Grand Magus only sneered.

One of the priests approached, bearing a silver platter with a piece of meat on it. “Great Megabyzus, a single shank of the lamb remains. Mustn't the entire sacrifice be consumed before we leave the altar?”

Before the Great Megabyzus could answer, the Grand Magus took hold of the shank, raised his arm, and threw the smoking meat as far as he could into the crowd. A mad scramble erupted where the shank landed. People screamed and shoved, trying to get hold of the food.