14

Klawiphoros

I only wish to be the fountain of love

    From which you drink,

        Every drop promising eternal passion

Meandering through a dusty plain in Sparta, the river banks of the Eurotas were lined with bulrushes over ten feet high. Nearby, slave women lopped olive trees as the scent of fruit groves and jasmine infused the land with the sweetest perfume. It overwhelmed the senses. On one of its minor bends, an islet sanctuary, sacred to the goddess Artemis was also a cult centre for the development of young girls. It was on the flood plain of the Platanistas, during Classical times, that they trained and undertook physical exercises to promote their education in becoming women. Homer described Sparta as Sparte kalligynaika, the land of beautiful women, and the young girls exercised naked. They were physically fit, toned, and were trained in music and poetry. Their long hair was pinned and adorned with fresh hyacinths.

Beyond the Platanistas, and south-east of Sparta itself, was the earth-red road leading to the hill called Therapne. On its summit rested the Menelaion, the ancient home of the Wanax, King Menelaus and his Queen Helen (later of Troy). More than three thousand years ago, the House of Atreus dominated the numerous minor kingdoms throughout Greece, and ‘war-like’ Menelaus ruled Sparta from his hill-top citadel. On this high ground the wind still blows with a particular ferocity, hot and unyielding.

Beyond, stretching for miles is the Tayegetan plain, rich in wild green horta. On the valleys and plains the aristocrats cultivated a variety of crops, including flax, tended by the serfs and myriad slaves imported as spoils of war and piratical raids. Men, women and children, recorded only as scratches on a clay ledger, kept this subsistence economy viable. Kings often undertook expeditions to ensure a steady supply of raw materials, including copper and gold.

At the beginning of spring, the city’s foremost families vied for the honour of marrying a daughter to one of the great gods. These were young girls, barely thirteen years of age, on the brink of budding sexual maturity. The girls were ‘married’ and attended the god’s shrine for a year, to the greater glory of their families and their young womanhood. One such young beauty amongst the aristocratic initiates was Amymone.

She was born in Lerna, a small town near Argos in the northern Peloponnese, but when her mother died in childbirth, her noble father travelled south to Pellana and eventually to Sparta. There, the brawny Aigisthus took a wife and connected himself to Menelaus’ household.

On the fourth day after the first new moon of Plowistis, as was the custom in the time when no sheep shearing or harvest of the vintage occurred, a procession of parthenoi (virgins) wound its way from the summit of the Therapne towards the town. Along the red dusty road the naked girls danced to their goddess, Artemis, the lady of the earth, and sang songs to their beautiful queen, Helen of Sparta.

At the shrine of Platanistas, the girls slept for one night, washed themselves in the Eurotas, and paid homage to the deity. Early the following morning, the entourage proceeded to Sparta.

Still naked, they entered the city amidst a throng of people throwing lotus flowers in their path. These girls, were now considered women, and were sacred and untouchable to all but the god they served.

In the sacred precinct of Poseidon, one such maiden, the young Amymone, was prepared for the service she would perform during the next year. Her body, washed again and rubbed in henna coloured oil blended from olives, sage, hyssop, rose and cyperus, was nearly perfect. She was robed in green linen which had been treated with olive oil. It left a distinct afterglow not unlike the aura of a goddess. Now she was sweetened with scents from the oil of coriander, cardamom and terebinth.

The hint of a scent, something akin to peppermint, hung deliciously and tenaciously in the hot, dry air.

By her ‘marriage to Poseidon,’ it was commonly supposed that Amymone had begun her transformation from the natural to the supernatural.

Now, Amymone’s face, arms, hands and breasts were painted in white lead oxide. Lips of cherry complimented intricate red circles dotted around her checks, imitating the sun. The splash of red was contrasted by the dark grey-green of Egyptian kohl painted on her eye lids.

Red… green… red… green… the colours of an emerging pattern which marked her for the god of earthquake and the sea.

Her shoulder length blond hair was cut except for one length which was coiled and pinned with a braid.

Only one other detail remained to transform Amymone into Poseidon’s priestess and consort. As was the custom at the beginning of each new year, Poseidon’s golden bracelet was placed around her wrist. The youthful, virginal Amymone was now called ‘Helen’ in honour of her patron queen.

Supervised by the temple priest, she was the property of the state.

Three scorching summers earlier, a distant kinsman of Menelaus came to Sparta from the Laconian town of Amyklai. It was a little place, seven miles south of Sparta. At its back the Tayegetan Mountains kept their snow long into the summer months and copses of olives peppered the hummocky terrain. The hills were thick with stands of oleander and wild saplings. It was here once that the heroes of the Bronze Age contested for the Spartan Queen Helen’s hand.

It was at this place where they had held contests before the gods of earth and sky to acquire such an emblem of beauty.

Like Aigisthus, Jason left his home to be nearer to the Great King to whom he wished to serve. This meant favour to the young man, a currency as rich as gold in an age of heroes. The youthful Jason was ambitious for glory, but for now his duty lay in the supervision of Poseidon’s precinct, a grotto beneath a temple, sacred to the god of sea and earthquake, and horses. He was to be its priest, and it was to this very grotto that Amymone had been sent to serve.

Jason was eighteen when he first spied her, but from that fateful moment he had to have her, smitten as he was with such a longing, thus condemning himself and Amymone to a torment that neither could have ever envisaged. Three moons later, they were in grave trouble.

An awful truth was to soon become apparent. Amymone, the consort of Poseidon, was pregnant.

To remain in Sparta meant certain death under Menelaus and his Basileis. So it was on the next dark of the moon, Jason followed his plan to quit Sparta, and Laconia, forever. He took with him what he could carry and after two days on the dusty road, Jason reached his father’s estate in Amyklai, for the last time.

“My foolish and irresponsible son, you have shamed this house, the king and the gods. If any amongst the town discover you here, we will incur the Wanax’s wrath.”

“Yes Father. We leave tonight for Athens and seek protection under King Cephalus. I am sure he will not cast us out. It is fortunate for you that our family still carries some weight in that city.”

“And what is to be said of your dubious integrity, girl? Yo u were the Klawiphoros of the temple! Did you not understand your responsibility? Does your father, Aigisthus, know anything of this? Yo u have affronted a god…You have affronted none other than Poseidon, our great lord! Imprudent girl, what have you to say for yourself?”

“My father knows nothing of this, Sir. As to the other charges that you have laid before me, I submit my guilt.”

“Then pray to the gods, guilty fool, that your father Aigisthus remains in that condition. He will surely kill both you and my son if he discovers the truth. Yo u have defiled yourself on Poseidon’s sacred ground. Fear Poseidon, girl, for his retribution is well known amongst mortal men.”

A disturbing but fleeting silence followed before Jason could speak.

“She was not to blame, Father.”

“She is not to blame?”

“No, Father.”

“So you alone carry the guilt?”

“I shall if I must.”

“It no longer matters now who has committed the sacrilege. Both of you are fools and are in grave danger from men and the gods alike. Go, before it is too late. The watchers of Poseidon’s temple have by now discovered that the Klawiphoros is missing.”

Jason’s eye caught his mother’s.

“Goodbye, Mother. I will always pray for your sake. Goodbye, Father. May we reunite in a happier time?”

“Only in the darkness of the afterlife, I fear.”

“Then entreat it will not be so!”

“Go quietly and remember the gods dislike impiety. Follow the path to the Platanistas and sacrifice to Artemis for the girl’s sake. Yo u will need to make a meat sacrifice to Poseidon to abate his wrath. Promise him recompense and don’t be impious. He will surely strike you dead or curse this household. Pass by the back roads and avoid the Tayegetan plain. Men will be watching.”

Jason took two deep breaths before composing himself.

“Which men do you speak of?”

“The temple police of Menelaus, and maybe even his warriors…I hope you will not be detected. Soon the local authorities will surely know of what has happened. Yo u have only this night to avoid detection so make haste.”

“Thank you, Father…and goodbye.”

“May Potnia safeguard you, my son? I dare not condone your crime for fear of the retribution that must surely follow hard on your heels. Oh, why could you not wait the year? Why did you have to take this girl?” Jason’s mother cried out in the torment of losing her son.

“She is my woman now, Mother. What is done cannot be undone.”

“This, you have pronounced from your own lips. May the gods have mercy?” Jason’s mother, although reluctant, embraced her son and kissed his forehead. Her tears covered his face.

“Goodbye, Mother.”

“Farewell, my son.”

“Take this, Amymone, as a token from us.” Jason’s mother presented the girl with a Hyacinth flower that she had placed in a pottery vase. “It will remind you of the land you chose to leave…it will remind you of the families you leave behind.”

“Thank you, Thisme. I will never forget.”

Jason and his ‘wife’ left Cadmon’s house possibly never to return. He had hoped for absolution but instead received some provisions to aid in his escape. This was important, too. Jason’s long hair flowed down his back and danced on the wind. Arrayed in his boar tusk helmet, and bearing his figure-of-eight cow hide shield and spear, he jiggled along as gracefully as deportment and his panoply allowed.

“My dearest one,” he consoled Amymone, “I would fly if I could to ease your discomfort, but I cannot. I am not a god.”

“We are joined as man and wife whether the gods condone this or not.”

“I fear it is by my doing, Amymone.”

“That no longer matters. Yo u are a warrior and I am a Klawiphoros. Protect me and I will bear you a strong son, one you can be proud of. He will throw a spear as well as Achilles and stand as strong amongst men as Ajax does! I promise you this, Jason, by all that is holy.”

“You will be my love for all time. I will see to it that the gods protect us. I will give them their appropriate due to make amends to the earth-shaker.”

“Then I too will honour and serve. I will love you even beyond the afterlife.”

“I know that it will be so.”

“Believe my words for they are stronger than Atlas.”

Four long days passed by before the fugitives returned to the small shrine near the Platanistas. They had to revisit Sparta’s outskirts in order to take the northern road to Athens. Jason hoped that much of the excitement of their flight had dissipated but nevertheless contented himself to travel in the cover of darkness.

At midnight, obedient to his father’s words, Jason stood before the altar stone and raised his eyes to heaven.

“O Artemis, the daughter of almighty Zeus, if thou art indeed our great mother, and aren’t ashamed of thy offspring, give me back my dignity…

I love Amymone, thy daughter, but fear I have offended heaven and earth by my impropriety…Please accept these gifts of acorns from me and hyacinth flowers from Amymone as we await your omen. May it be a sign of a favourable disposition for me? May your answer be favourable for Amymone? Mistress, I throw myself on your most divine mercy.”

Such was their weariness that night before Artemis’ stone, the couple reposed on the ground under the velvet blanket of the darkness. The two lovers were relieved in the hope that the goddess had heard the supplication and accepted the offerings howsoever expedient they may have been. By chance there grew nearby a giant oak tree with wide spreading branches. The tree shook in the breeze and rustled quite loudly before complete silence induced the lovers to a deep, careless sleep.

Artemis answered their plea in a dream so vivid that it disturbed him…

THE DREAM OF ARTEMIS

“Ahhiyawan, impetuous youth, you have defiled the earth shaker’s (Poseidon’s) holy place and in your guilt fled from his just retribution. You cannot hide your face from him. You are recognized amongst the gods. By your deed all reverence for sacred things was lost…and yet your plea for clemency has not gone unheard.

In my holy shrine none shall injure you, but Poseidon, my uncle, must be propitiated. Behold these things.

Consider the recompense. As life was conceived in Poseidon’s Grotto so shall it be forfeited? This must be undertaken by the Klawiphoros for her sake alone. Only then can her true divinity flower as a child and bride of the earth shaker, Poseidon.

As for you, Ahhiyawan, you will gaze with wonder upon the multitude. You will follow them in strife, young in years and blood red in heart. They will pass you in procession in the same manner.

Throughout the ages, the Ahhiyawan’s mortality shall be as eternal youth. You shall, as a tree, always be green, and your leaves know no decay until the day you return to Poseidon’s Grotto and are reborn anew.

But you will forget all things, and by others, be forgotten.

Though eternal, no bard shall ever sing of this, thy glory.”

When Jason awoke, his first impulse was to chide the gods who had robbed him of the sweet vision of a dream rather to puzzle him with the conundrum of the goddess in its stead. He lay silent in the temple and considered the meaning of the ostensibly contradictory oracle.

The Klawiphoros must propitiate Poseidon in his grotto and Jason’s life shall be as eternal youth? Amymone’s divinity will flower after she has forfeited something to appease Poseidon?

This did not make sense. Were the gods to harm or aid?

By early morning, the words still vibrant in his ears proved elusive…