.1.

The Mediterranean World

 

The chronology of Time marked the years around 575-570 BCE on the Mediterranean coast. Flat stones, perfectly aligned in a structural design, paved the long pier of one of the most important and earliest harbors in the world; Saydoun (Sidon). This Phoenician city reached its peak around the 12th and 10th century BCE, playing a spiritual, scientific and economic key role in the Mediterranean culture. Such major impact has prevailed through times until the present date.

Tradition conveyed that the name of that coastal city related to Saydoun, the elder son of Canaan; father of the Phoenician race. A powerful figure of his time and a charismatic leader with a magnificent vision, Saydoun had built the city in his name, nearly three thousand years BCE.

This port city carried its name that correlated to the act of fishing, as well; having been one of the most vital food sources for the inhabitants of that area. In fact, the majority of the Saydonians had acquired a solid reputation as successful fishermen, whereas the minority in the city was regarded as great fishers of men.

On the long dock, stood the lovely Parthenis, her eyes to the horizon reflecting on the past. The orange–red globe of the Sun, shrouded by thin layers of clouds, blended with the Phoenician waters. A flock of sea gulls flew by and their shadows drew swift forms on the beach. The palm trees swayed softly: silent witnesses to the confident departure of the majestic Phoenician vessels. Heading in all directions, they exported wisdom and knowledge, along with their national products of purple linen clothes, metalwork, wine, salt, perfume, cereal, and glazed faience. The traders exported to the world the most refined jugs of glass and clay, as well as engraved vases and exquisite jewelry that Saydoun manufactured on a grand scale. The world ahead would also be expecting their raw materials of pine and cedar wood considered by Europe, Africa and the Americas to be of great value.

On their way back, the traders would import gold, iron and lead from the western coast of the Black Sea; copper from Cyprus; precious stones from India and the Far East; ivory from Africa; papyrus from Egypt, silver from Spain; and lead and tin from the land of the Britons. They would also bring in, among other products, precious ebony, silk, horses, spices, amber and incense.

The Mediterranean Sea, once described as the Phoenician waters, was like a beehive where ships sailed in and out in an eventful yet systematic rhythm. Within all that apparent chaos, there was a certain hidden order that confused Lady Parthenis at the harbor. Her big brown eyes reflected admiration towards the harmonious maneuvering of the sailors taming the great crashing waves; the sound of which reached her like a musical hum. Sweet yet strong, the scent of the salty water filled her with a strange, stimulating sensation.

A soft breeze wafted her flax blue tunic and the pink veil around her head shaped the curves of her face whose softness mirrored her mid-twenties. Her elegant hand touched the sapphire necklace around her fine neck, nervously, as she sighed deeply for patience. Her husband was scheduled to arrive today from Greece, and his two-week long trip had felt like an eternity to her. A Surian (Tyrian) merchant, her husband Mnesarchus[1] constantly sailed the Mediterranean Sea aboard his ship; Astarte, the Lady of the Sea, represented by an impressive statue of a siren at the front.

And here it was, emerging proud and confident among the other boats. Parthenis smiled in relief, then with pride. Splendid, the Lady of the Sea revealed, gradually, its upper human figure. As the Astarte navigated closer and closer, the lower fish form of the statue came to sight. The vessel finally docked at the pier to release, and moments later, dozens of voyagers disembarked on the already busy port. Parthenis watched them with interest as they stepped out hastily. She could detect the artists among the merchants from their colorful attire. Their cheerful expressions denoted their relief at reaching their destination safely. These travelers belonged to different Mediterranean countries, and, as she always did when in the port, she examined them with pleasant curiosity.

Soon, she grew impatient at not seeing her husband. She stretched her neck, her eyes searching, and then she smiled widely at the man rushing to her. She admired his long, curly mane and his tanned, bearded face that gave him the look of a man in his early forties. His bluish-purple tunic, wrapped by a brown leather belt at the waist, shaped his stout shoulders. His patent force and enthusiastic appearance overwhelmed her with a feeling of expectation.  Edging nearer, he went down on his knees and kissed the ground of his homeland. His eyes brightened warmly at her advanced pregnancy, lifted up to hers in love and then back to the round form of the new life her insides nurtured. His hand reached to it. He touched her, ever so softly, ever so tenderly, confusing her by such an unusual public display of emotion.

“I can feel him moving,” he finally blurted out overwhelmed. “Our baby boy… moving in a harmonious rhythm inside you, my dear. How beautiful!”

She blushed and gave him a timid smile. Her hand joined his on her belly. With her other hand, she caressed his thick wavy hair.

“A boy? What makes you believe that, dear?” Her soft question teased him.   

His smile broadened with a steady confidence that expressed his male satisfaction. He leaped to his feet, grabbed both her hands in his and said, “Beloved Parthenis, I carry with me great news! I will tell you it all on our way home.”

He led her through the crowded port and, once on the quieter boulevard, he brought her, by the shoulders, closer to his side to continue walking at a calmer pace.  Dusk was falling peacefully on them.

“I met a friend of mine, a Greek merchant, upon my arrival in Athens,” Mnesarchus said, finally. “I told him about your pregnancy and he was truly delighted by the good news. He advised me to consult the oracle of the Temple of Apollo in Delphi; one of the most famous Temples in all of Greece. Well, dear, I did! And the priestess told me that we will have a son!” Mnesarchus announced with a cheerful tone of pride.

“Oh dear!” Parthenis exclaimed with a frown of disapproval.

A firm believer in the Phoenician God AL, she doubted that followers of gods, other than hers, could possibly predict the unknown. This information could very well be just a deception. Anxiety and curiosity left her mystified.

She probed for more, “Mnesarchus, my love, I want you to be honest with me. Your words left me wondering. Please tell me! Do you really believe in the prediction of that priestess? I mean… how is it possible, really, that she could discern the unknown? You are very well aware that her religious beliefs are different from ours!”

“Oh Parthenis, I’m telling you what she told me! I believe in what I heard. You should have seen that priestess. It seemed to me… hmmm, how should I put it? It really seemed to me as if she moved through a great mist far, far away beyond this world as if she was communicating with something invisible… an invisible power! You should accompany me on my next trip, and see for yourself. That, of course, if you wish.” He looked at her inquiringly.

She stopped and gazed pensively at the sea sending its soft waves along the beach.

“Where about is Greece?” She asked, suddenly excited at the prospect of a trip with her husband to that exotic land she had heard so much about.

Delighted, Mnesarchus turned to point towards the northwest. Standing there for a while, the couple held hands. Parthenis rested her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and took a deep, long breath.

 

*  *  *

The couple reached the paved alley leading to the souk. Palm trees, on both sides, made their promenade more enchanting, as did the soft light of the oil lamps that hung on the road’s pillars. The night had fallen by then; yet the shops, productive still, conducted their business with the same dexterity. Some merchants engaged in stocking their newly imported merchandise under the curious eyes of eager buyers.

Most imported metals would reach the factories, directly at the outskirts of the souk, and even farther away to the legendary industrial unit of Sarepta (Sarafand). Located fifteen kilometers south of the city, the factory and its skillful artisans continuously produced fine chiseled works of art.

Saydoun had gained a vast reputation for its social and medical services, some well advanced, like dental treatments. Phoenician doctors in the city had come up with an ingenious concept of twisting pure gold wire around loose teeth to hold them firmly in place. Spirituality assumed a role in the medical field as well. The Saydonians took pride in their curative god Eshmun; known as the god of medicine. Originally an ordinary man, Eshmun had turned into a god because of his power to heal through the gifts of nature.

Both, natives and foreigners enjoyed the vivacious city. It seemed as if life pumped vigorously in the hearts of the people, in the fauna and flora, inside the houses and on the streets. Life vibrated energetically everywhere!

Music drifted from the right corner of the plaza. There, an aged musician sat on a flat stone, playing his lyre with a young flutist standing at his side.  Charmed, people gathered around them. Some sat right there on the floor. Others stopped to listen. Enchanted smiles expressed the mood that the musicians contributed to create for the pleasure of the citizens and visitors. The breeze of the night wafted around the delicious smell of food, tempting many towards the nearby tavern. In fact, Phoenician cuisine was favorably reputed all over the Mediterranean.

“Don’t even think about it! I have prepared a special dinner for you at home!” Parthenis teased her husband, whose eyes had widened at sight of the restaurant.

He laughed out loud then brought her hand to his mouth for a resounding kiss that made her blush with pleasure. “Let’s go home then,” he proposed with enthusiasm and turned her around towards the exit of the souk.

She giggled as she tried to match his fast steps. She then slowed down gradually, her eyes caught by the magnificent sight of a colorful array of flowers.

“Mnesarchus!” She called him back and stopped in total admiration at the display of the florist and the captivating aroma that drifted from that diverse arrangement. A particular flower took her breath away.

She heard her husband whispering tenderly in her ears, “The white rose of course.”

She nodded with a grin and watched as Mnesarchus dropped a coin in the hand of the florist, drew out the rose and offered it to her. She gazed at it for a while, lifted her loving eyes to him in thanks then kissed him softly on the cheek.

His eyes warmed in hers then, speechless, he grabbed her arm to walk towards the residential area. They made their way, uneventfully, through the houses of limestone, all similarly shaped, in both rectangular and cubical forms, with open windows on the sides.

Upon spotting her home, quite different from the general lots, she smiled with tender pride at her husband’s achievement. Different from that of his neighbors, he had constructed his house with stone and roofed it with Cedar wood. He had made it a point to expand his backyard with a bountiful garden. While most people could not afford to have their houses built in the same way, Mnesarchus had dedicated all his efforts and smart trading to afford his growing family a trouble-free life.

As soon as they were home, she marched decisively to the wooden pillar in the middle of the house and lit the oil lamp, there steadily suspended. She turned a discreet look at her husband dropping at once on the couch. She refrained from commenting on his weariness, cautious not to hurt his male pride. She instead rushed to set the dinner that she had previously prepared in anticipation of his homecoming. In fact, she had most of it primed and ready to serve the husband she loved so dearly. She warmed the stew of meat and vegetables and a delicious aroma rose at once. Freshly picked for the meal, the vegetables and fruits she set on the table appealed at once to her husband’s senses who leaped to his feet the moment she turned to him an inviting smile. They settled at the wooden table, elegantly wrought by a Saydonian carpenter. From the window, draped with an elegant purple curtain, the moon appeared to smile at the peaceful reunion of the couple.

 

*  *  *

The Sun appeared on a new day from behind the mountains of Eastern Loubnan. Sunrays stretched over the land as the birds launched their musical rhapsody. The fauna awoke to another day of survival in the nearby forest and the surrounding fields. A brisk aroma drifted from the cypress and olive trees as the morning dew covered the land. The populace breathed, with satisfaction, the refreshing morning air before they moved on to their daily routine, as Parthenis did.

Yet she had awakened earlier than that to bake some bread and cakes for her husband. He had joined her later on and waited now, for her, in the garden. She stepped up with the baked meal and glanced at him while setting the breakfast table. Gazing pensively at the Murex Hill in the distance, he took a deep breath as if wanting to take in all the glorious aromas of the early day. He turned to her a childish smile, and sighed with satisfaction. Their eyes met for a tender moment. This was their favorite time, when they both would sit in their garden for their first meal. At her gracious gesture of invitation, he joined her at the table.

On the narrow path alongside their garden, Saydonians sauntered towards the hill with baskets of murex shell on their arms. Some hummed a merry tune, while others chatted cheerily. In a friendly manner known to the inhabitants, they all waved in turn to the couple and their smiles broadened as Mnesarchus and Parthenis returned the greetings with the same enthusiasm.

As if suddenly remembering something, Mnesarchus leaped to his feet, surprising her, and rushed to the joyful procession. Amused, she watched him choosing with eagerness some of the precious purple linen. He then instructed them to prepare for him two sumptuous robes of the Royal Purple.

‘A month, no later!’

She heard him and recalled him informing her, the eve before, that some wealthy Greek traders had shown high interest in that rare ethnic product. She did not need much to guess that he planned to sell these precious robes to them on his next trip to Greece. She tilted her head sideways with a grin of understanding as he joined her back.

“Yes dear, soon we will sail to Greece,” he affirmed, smiling back at her.

“In a month?” she exclaimed.

“Of course, my love! I can assure you that we will enjoy it a great deal. I will introduce you to many of my friends. You will like them, you’ll see!

“I guess I will, Mnesarchus. Who are they?”

“Some famous painters and poets,” he said excitedly. “Others are successful merchants and there are even some prominent politicians!”

She chuckled at his unconcealed enthusiasm. “I’m really looking forward to visiting Greece and meeting all of your friends, dear, but…” she hesitated pensively then decided to state her mind. “About the priestess you mentioned… Well, I’m not sure…”

“Not sure of what, dear?” he seized her hand over the table and probed her eyes for her hidden concern.

“It’s hard for me to believe her!”

“My love, I’m not trying to persuade you of her legitimacy. Just grant her the benefit of the doubt until you meet with her. Sounds fair?” His eyes were intent on hers.

She knew her opinion mattered to him, the way she cared a lot about him. This matter was important to him, so she would concede for his sake. She sighed.

“Fine, dear, since you insist. But I still prefer to consult our priests in Gebel. We both know for certain that the power of AL, our God the Most High, is with them.”

“I don’t mind at all, dear,” he rushed to agree, apparently relieved. His hand started caressing hers warmly, his eyes tenderly in hers. “We shall definitely pay them a visit soon, and that’s a promise!” He asserted all too happily.

Parthenis sipped at her milk with great relief. When, the day before, her husband had talked about Delphi with so much faith, she thought or rather believed that he had had a change of heart and fine-tuned his mind to the gods of Greece. She knew for sure now that her doubts were not founded. She looked at him.

His eyes were elsewhere…

 

*  *  *

The procession of the Murex Experts arrived at the hill that had built up by the accumulation of waste from the purple dye factories behind it. Their silhouettes faded away in that direction. It was by strategic choice that the Saydounians had opted for this particular location to the East of their town. As the wind would blow downward, so would the intense smell wave away from their city.

There inside, in total secrecy, the Experts cracked down the small shells of Murex[2] to extract the mollusks and then place them in large tanks over a low fire. Carefully and attentively, they conducted their undisclosed process of producing the purple dye. Later on, exposed to the Mediterranean sun, the mollusks would decompose and take on a yellowish pigment.

The Phoenician artisans would gently heat up the newly obtained liquid for almost two weeks. They would then add some unknown chemical formulas of their creation – probably made from Lemon extract. The skillful manipulation of the process would generate a selection of unique shades of colors that varied from soft pink to deep violet, also known as Royal Purple. These magnificent permanent colors would also be used to dye the finest textiles of linen and flax, imported from Egypt on a regular basis. The outcome introduced to people the pleasure of fashion at all times.

Undoubtedly, clothes made from Royal Purple stood out in beauty. They had gained favor with Phoenicians of wealth and high social standards. In fact, that unusual textile of rare quality had earned its royal surname because kings and rich elite of foreign nations sought it, regardless of its high price in gold that only their wealth could afford!

The Saydounians, like the Surians, both famous in the production of purple dye, had made it a point to conceal their artistic formula at all costs. As a matter of fact, workers of these factories had related how each one of them would be inspected scrupulously at the end of the working day, and that, to ensure that the secret recipe would not be stolen. This meticulous, strict control had allowed the Phoenicians to implement a worldwide monopoly over that amazingly beautiful craft of their own invention.

 

*  *  *

The Sun rose above the peak of the Eastern Mountains. From behind the Murex hill, appeared two women in traditional clothes. They walked down the path to Mnesarchus’ house, in their hands: two boxes and a papyrus. They opened the iron gate of the garden and halted at the reigning silence. They looked at each other for a moment then, without a word, they closed the distance to the backyard door. They knocked softly and waited. Getting no response, they placed the package and the papyrus on the doorsteps with great care, and, without looking back, made their way out.

 

Parthenis woke up, relaxed and refreshed from her good night’s sleep. She drew the curtains to the sides, opened the window, and took a deep breath with a sense of contentment. Something under her window, right there at her doorstep drew her attention. She urged her steps to the backyard door, and opened it with caution. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at the brown packages left at her doorstep. She glanced in wonder, left and right, and far beyond where her eyes could reach. No one could be seen. With a deep frown, she gazed down at the package: two wooden boxes and a roll of Papyrus. A breeze wafted softly and a strong smell of Cedar reached her senses. It was then while bending down slowly, that she distinguished the Phoenician characters on each of the boxes. Royal Purple - 1 Piece. On the other side, the words read Made in Saydoun, Phoenicia.

She smiled, then giggled. Those would be the outfits her husband had ordered a few weeks ago. She carried the package inside the house and restrained from opening it, or reading the papyrus. Mnesarchus would do it later, she thought to herself.

As she turned to go back to her room, she recalled that the trip to Greece had been confirmed, and the fate of her future child would soon be revealed by the oracle of Delphi! Although she greatly doubted the revelation of the priestess, trepidation overwhelmed her. When she stepped back into her bedroom, she smiled at her husband waking up.

“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerfully and went to lay a soft kiss on his forehead.

He returned the greeting as he tried to grab her back to him, but she eluded his hands gracefully.

“Time for breakfast, husband!”

He groaned in disagreement. Giggling, she turned to the window and gazed for a while at the colorful little bird, sprinting from one branch to another on the olive tree. Strange, she thought to herself, it resembled the legendary Phoenix!

 

*  *  *

It was a lovely morning in which the crowd at the busy Saydounian pier seemed driven by an energetic will; the will of life. Consorting under the Mediterranean Sun, traders, merchants, artists, and scholars intermingled in social conversation. They appeared longing for an adventure, an adventure filled with the spirit of belonging to the courageous, loving, and caring family of mankind.

Elegant in a blue-flax tunic, her head veiled with a white scarf, Parthenis, aided by her husband, made her way towards the “Astarte”. Behind them, two young porters carried their luggage with a grin of expectation. The couple slowed down here and there on their way to the “Astarte” as friends and acquaintances would greet them. Parthenis stretched her neck above the crowd to gaze at their ship. The Lady of the Sea, with the huge eyes lost in an eternal gaze, its posture in advance, appeared eager to initiate another trip through the infinite world of the ocean. 

She felt her heart beating faster as Mnesarchus helped her climb the thick wooden steps tied together with strong ropes that brought them on board. Truth be said, she had rarely traveled overseas. For her, this date would stick in her memories forever as a brave new day. From on board, she gazed at the town she had dreaded to leave, even if for a short period of time. She loved her house and her chores as housewife. She liked her neighbors and the friendly people of her hometown. She sighed deeply, inhaling courage and determination for what awaited her. Their destination should be reached and their goal accomplished. There was no going back now!

“This way, dear,” Mnesarchus invited her to follow him, and she did, with a dynamic return of grins.

Her steps, firm yet graceful, her head straight, she walked, unconcerned, past the men jamming the boat. Mnesarchus came to a halt at the entrance of the pilot’s compartment. She stepped closer to him as the noise impeded them to communicate. He kindly gestured her to precede him a step down then to the left. She did and then halted, taking in the quietness of the confined interior and the strong smell of the narrow aisle. She frowned as her mind tried to assess what her senses detected. There was more to the smell than humidity. The cedar wood all around her spoke of long voyages on the seas through the powerful aroma it emanated.

“Parthenis?”

She glimpsed at Mnesarchus above her shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile before moving on. Identical doors of natural wood lined up on both sides of the passageway. She did not need to turn around to check for their porters. She knew for a fact that they would not miss this opportunity for a tip from her husband, known for his generosity.

“Our cabin is number five, just ahead, dear…, the next one to the right,” Mnesarchus guided her from behind her back.

She stopped in front of the door marked number 5, in Phoenician form, on a bronze plate and glanced back at her husband for confirmation. At his nod, she opened it and stepped in.

“So, dear, this is your personal lodge,” Parthenis exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes browsing the modest surroundings in which her husband always traveled. 

“So it is, my love!” he replied with the same enthusiasm and turned to signal to the porters to leave the luggage at the side of the only bed in the room. He then dropped a few coins in the extended hands of the porters whose eyes brightened at once. Parthenis refrained from laughing at seeing the boys bowing in gratitude several quick times before they dashed out, one after the other. Her heart went to her husband for his kindness to others.

Her attention reverted to the room they were to inhabit for the duration of their trip. Small, yet comfortable, the place appealed to her. The purple bed linen looked remarkably clean as did the two weaved, colorful carpets thrown on the wooden floor. In a corner, a terracotta jar of water stood by an iron strut carrying a large wash basin of flowery ceramic. The opposite corner presented some hooks on the wall for their clothes. Brand new candles and a small bouquet of white roses graced the small wooden table near the window.

“Oh dear, how thoughtful of you!” Parthenis exclaimed and rushed to smell the bouquet of her favorite flowers. She then looked curiously from the small window at the activity unfurling on the long pier outside. She laughed at the vibrant scene. At once, the strong arms of her husband wrapped around her waist. She rested back on his warm chest and closed her eyes with contentment.

“Departure in ten minutes!”

She snapped her eyes open at the call that reverberated to her from the outside.

“It’s the Captain,” her husband explained.

“Everybody on board!” the call reiterated with more authority this time.

She veered to face her husband. Her heart pounded fast. Her hands sweated on his chest. His eyes sparkled in hers, perceptive of her excitement.

The adventure was about to begin!

 

*  *  *

Parthenis and her husband hastened out to join the travelers who submitted to the routine checkup of the traveling documents. The couple did not need to undertake this routine since Mnesarchus owned the ship. However, she had insisted not to miss the gathering and meet their journey’s companions. At detecting that she was not the only woman undertaking this voyage, she felt relieved, even if the male gender surpassed by far the female voyagers.

Mnesarchus led her by the waist to the banisters, away from the crowd and to a spot where she could watch leisurely without being pushed or harassed. Soon, the “Astarte” moved slowly away from the pier. Parthenis focused her attention on the manpower at work. On one side of the ship, forty muscular men occupied two ranks, one above the other. They rowed with all their power in a harmony that seemed to follow the rhythm played by a young flutist.

Mnesarchus explained to her the rowing technique invented by the Phoenician sailors through their expertise in the art of navigation. They, as such, far bypassed the Egyptians who still used large canoes that required hard, thus less efficient, paddling.

Attentive, she watched how the captain and the pilot, along with the flutist, commanded the rowing. It amazed her that the flutist coordinated the exact tempo of the rowers. Like a Maestro who would direct a musical symphony, he brought the whole team, including the pilot and the captain, into perfect harmony. This unity favored the speedy maneuvering of their navigation in gaining considerable time. The captain, from his side, kept a watchful alert while guiding their vessel out of the harbor with an admirable precision.

 

When they made their way farther into the sea, they increased the speed. The statue of Astarte, steady in its position, appeared to part the waters,  directing the ship into the very heart of the Mediterranean Sea. Three boats of smaller size,  with wooden heads of horses at their front, escorted the “Astarte”. The captain shouted his orders, and a sailor ran to the five-meter high mast in the center of the deck. In a matter of seconds, he untied the bulky knot and pulled down the thick ropes. A huge cylindrical canvas unfurled at once to catch the wind. The “Astarte” propelled forward, slicing the surface of the sea in a white foamy crease.

Thirty-two meters long and six meters wide, their vessel comprised plenty of space for people and merchandise. For the moment, most of the local merchants rested on the other side of the deck facing the rowers, whereas their trading goods were set neatly in the center.

By mid-day, they encountered several other boats, somewhat similar to each other. The “Astarte” made its way through, proudly different in beauty and shape. Trepidation faded gradually as most of the voyagers sought rest in their rooms.

“Our lunch will be served any time now, dear,” Mnesarchus informed her, “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Already?” She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, is it lunch time?”

He laughed out loudly. “I’m glad you are enjoying the trip from the very start,” he teased her.

She chuckled then, and, seized his hand to have him lead the way to their lodge.

The moment they regained the privacy of their room, she untied her veil and graciously shook her head to release her long mane.

“Mmm, it does smell delicious,” she exclaimed with a look at their meal ready on their table.

Mnesarchus laughed, “So, you are hungry!”

“Of course! With all this excitement…!”

“Adding the fresh air of the sea that stimulates the appetite…,” he insinuated jokingly.

“Oh dear, I am so happy I came along!” She threw herself in his arms in a spontaneous expression of gratitude and joy.

“Same here, beloved,” his voice sounded hoarse with emotion. He cleared his throat and added, “Let’s eat.”

She complied and settled on the wooden chair weaved with thick rope. He joined her at the table facing her. He divided the warm bread and shared it with her while she served him some stew.

“I am really thrilled, Mnesarchus! I am, very much, looking forward to seeing Greece. When do you think we’ll be there?”

“No more than seven days from now,” Mnesarchus replied, amused at her eagerness. “I’m really glad you came along,” he added seizing her hands tenderly. “You’ll see. We will enjoy all of it. Greece is a wonderful place to visit! You’ll love the Temple of Apollo in Delphi as well.”

Parthenis listened to him expounding on all the amazing places planned for her visit. She could almost envision them all. His fervor grabbed her dreamily. The great city of Athens and its wise men! The Agora square and its many grand public buildings! Proud sculptors exhibiting their fine pieces! Poets and poetesses reciting the most beautiful prose! The Acropolis! The beautiful colossal statue of the goddess Athena! The shrine of Zeus!

His eyes were bright and wistful. Parthenis knew then that his love to this particular country surpassed by far all the others he had visited.

“Some wine, dear?” She proposed, grabbing the clay jar on the table. At his nod, she poured some of the drink of the gods into his cup and filled hers with some fresh water. 

He raised his goblet, toasted to their life together, sipped on his red wine, and leaned forward, “Do you know what the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, is?”

“What is it, beloved?” She asked puzzled.

“Your eyes!”

Before she could react, his lips were on hers, kissing her passionately.

Caught in the magic of the moment, time seemed to cease.

 

*  *  *

Later in the afternoon, Parthenis stood on the banister admiring the sunset. The sky changed its colors gradually as the sun made its slow decline behind the horizon. She shivered with some strange emotion. Feeling so close to the sun, at the very moment of its merging with the sea, confronted her with a phenomenal mystery. The fiery planet appeared to inflame in protest at touching the water of the ocean that swallowed its glory all too slowly as if tasting a delicious victory over a different yet powerful element. 

She welcomed the warmth of Mnesarchus’ hand on her shoulder. It brought her back to reality and to a sense of security she had felt lacking in front of such a majestic occurrence. Comforted, she felt indeed, when his hands wrapped around her belly and pulled her softly back to his solid chest. She smiled at his words of love whispered so closely to her ears and shuddered with emotion at his breath on her neck. He rested his forehead on her left shoulder for a long moment, as if lost in the enchantment of her softness. The amber colors of the sky showered them as time reached dusk with all its secret beauty. There, connected in body, heart and soul as never before, they both shared a unique moment of peaceful love.

Time seemed to stand still for both of them. The activity on deck had subsided by now. Mnesarchus turned her tenderly to him seeking the love of her lips.

“Eh… Sir…,” a hesitant voice interrupted the couple. “Excuse me, sir… It’s the Captain… He, hmm…,” the boy who uttered these words kept his eyes riveted on the sea, to avoid looking at them, as Parthenis noticed with amusement.

“Yes…?” Mnesarchus replied slowly yet his tone hinted his irritation. Then, as he glared at the boy, his wrinkle of annoyance vanished to leave place to a sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes. He certainly deemed the embarrassment of the boy as amusing as she did. “Come on boy! Spit it out!”

The order shook the boy who spun on his heels to face Mnesarchus. “Captain Hamelkon, Sir!” He rushed on his words. “He requests the honor of your presence at his table for dinner… Sir!” 

“And so it will be!” Mnesarchus exclaimed in agreement and Parthenis burst out in laughter.

 

*  *  *

Edging his fifty, Captain Hamelkon had a lean physique, and a thick black beard smeared with the white color of age, same as his hair that reached his shoulders. The stiff look of his tanned face reflected his strong character. Parthenis imagined reading a long story of experience in his deep black eyes shadowed by thick peppered eyebrows. A crooked nose, denoting determination, traced a long length from the linked eyebrows down to his thick moustache. The deep wrinkles on his forehead and cheeks enhanced the impression of a charcoal drawing.

Hmmm… Interesting, she murmured inwardly, but there was a kind of  perturbed feeling that inhabited her at first. Yet, she soon changed her mind about him. His impeccable courtesy, lit at all times by an effortless smile, made her feel at home. He, in fact, attended to all the guests with a cheerful mood yet with respectful manners, making of the dinner gathering a very enjoyable evening.

From the lavish clothes and heavy jewelry of the four other male guests, Parthenis knew of their wealth, the way she recognized their profession from their conversation in trades and merchandise. She delighted in a meal of well cooked and finely served meat. Servants constantly filled the cups with red wine of excellent quality, or so she assumed from the enchanted expression on her husband’s face. She would not drink herself for the sake of her unborn baby.

From the very start of their meal, Captain Hamelkon captivated her, and all the guests, with his narration of strange stories about the seas and the lands he had explored in his many trips. Fascinated, she watched how he engaged in his tales as if reliving them. He related his adventure across the Pillars of Melkart-Hercules when he had commanded a large fleet towards Bar-Tanak[3], the Land of Tin. Parthenis could not get her attention away from him.

At moments, she envisioned herself in that exploit. The tension seemed to take on everyone around the table. The merchants gawked at the Captain, their eyes bright in expectation and their wine untouched on the table, anticipating the end of the story.

Mnesarchus seemed more composed, sipping his wine quietly, yet his eyes focused on him with amused interest. Parthenis assumed that he had heard this tale once before, or maybe more than once, but he still felt absorbed, sharing with his captain the same attraction for the sea.

“Tell them about the land of the black-skinned people!” Mnesarchus exclaimed.

“How about the times I docked at Marsa-El[4] in Europa[5]?” He proposed in reply, his eyes mischievous.

“Later… later!” Mnesarchus waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “The land of the black skinned people first!” He incited flippantly.

“Yes, please!” The guests pleaded almost in one voice.

“So be it!” The Captain snapped with a resounding clap of his hands. He brought the cup of wine to his mouth, drank all of it, placed it down on the table and went for his new story.

The Captain controlled their night and dreams, dragging the time far beyond the sleeping hour, and capturing them, one more time, in his world of exciting adventures…

 

*  *  *

The next day, the deck experienced its usual morning activity as soon as the sky tinted with the colors of dawn. The rowers positioned themselves to sail at a faster speed when the first sunrays highlighted the soft waves with a radiant touch.

Moments later, they ceased their rowing efforts to allow the navigation to direct its course. Parthenis enjoyed the scene along with a few passengers strolling around leisurely. She breathed deeply the fresh air of the awakening day. The sea conveyed to her senses its briskly salty scent. She felt at peace, somehow. The feeling escorted her all day, until a strange sensation seized her later at night.

She stood there at the banister, admiring the rise of the full moon that painted the dark water with timid rays. The sea looked infinite to her; a dark ocean at sleep through which the “Astarte” abdicated to the current and to the sudden wind.

An odd sensation of apprehension overwhelmed her when she pondered over the unknown mystery of that immense body of water. She heeded behind her the sound of footsteps approaching her steadfastedly. She tensed for a moment when it edged closer then she veered at once to face the intruder on her thoughts. Captain Hamelkon came at a respectful halt and distance from her, took off his cone hat and greeted her with a contrite smile.

“Pardon my intrusion, my Lady. I was conducting my tour of surveillance and saw you from my cabin. And so, I have come to check on you. My apologies, again. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Captain, thank you,” she replied with some reservation.

“Are you enjoying the night view?”

“Yes, indeed, I am.” She granted him a graceful nod of her head before adding, “I would say, it is quite relaxing and calm.” Then after a slight hesitation, she commented, “A little bit strange though…”

“Yes, quite understandable,” Captain Hamelkon agreed, keeping to his distance out of respect for their cultural values. He gazed pensively at the ocean and said as if thinking out loud, “The ancient people of the Earth deemed the Sea a frightening mystery. They wrongly presumed it to be the habitat of gigantic monsters and outlandish creatures. They in fact imagined them appearing behind the horizon. For centuries, people believed in such tales, until, of course, our ancestors broke through that ancient illusion when they ventured into the vast ocean. Eventually, what they found beyond that imaginary borderline was nothing more than human life and habitats. However,” he paused to turn his eyes at her and declared, “Sea monsters, legends tell, existed in immemorial times in the scheme of nature.”

The brief sparkle in his eyes when he looked in her direction betrayed his anticipation for a reaction of dismay from her;  dread or fear.

She smiled faintly at his attempt to assess her courage, and uttered calmly, “Yes, I’m well informed of such legends. People are usually prisoners of their own fear of the unknown. Only those who dare facing their demons prevail, and, of course,” she added evenly, “to acknowledge the borderline between reality and illusion demands courage.”

Stunned by her reply, he gawked at her for a moment then slightly bowed his head in respectful acknowledgment, not of her statement but of her level of reasoning, as if she had just passed a test of some sort. Men! Her mind snapped in frustration. In a proud move of her head, she directed her attention to the game of the moon rays on the dark waters.

“My lady, allow me,” the Captain finally said with a hint of apology. “I know of the educated level of our Phoenician women, and of them being looked upon as exceptional. I am honored to join my voice to the general praises. Phoenician ladies stand out indeed from among their sisters in the world I have visited.”

The praises did not move her. She knew of her value very well. “The honor is all mine in being a descendant of such awe inspiring people,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“And you honor us, my lady,” the Captain replied at once with sincere admiration.

She knew what he meant. He was, of course, referring to her courage and intelligence, yet he should know that Phoenician women were not of the weak and superficial type. They had proved it through the ages, and she was but one among all the others. At the thought of her roots, a new sensation of tranquility enveloped her.

“How did you become a sailor, Captain Hamelkon?” she asked, half turning to his direction.

“It is in the family, fair Lady. When I was a little boy, my grandfather used to narrate stories to me about the sea. He told me of the strong connection that bounded him to the immensity of the water world from the onset of his travels.”

Parthenis understood then that she, in fact, shared this feeling towards the sea as well; a unique feeling that belongs to all those who sailed through it. It is just another state of mind processed by Nature, she reasoned.

“My grandfather told me that people were strongly convinced that the world ended behind the Pillars of Melkart,” the Captain resumed, then pointing to the West, “there, in that direction.” He grinned with a hint of irony. “So, one day, he decided to go see for himself what the end-of-the-world looked like!”

“He must have been quite an intrepid man, your grandfather,” Parthenis commented, sharing his amusement. “So, what happened?” She encouraged him to continue. Somehow she felt connected in soul with the old man.

“Well, when the boat crossed through the Pillars, he was astonished at the fact that the navigation continued without incident or drama. The world just extended farther and farther away!” He laughed and shook his head in glee. “He was a new sailor at that time, a neophyte in the Art,” he felt like explaining his grandfather’s candor. “The other experienced sailors cackled at his bewilderment of course, and kept teasing him during the entire journey. Eventually, the captain explained to him that the concept in itself was just a rumor fabricated by our Ancestors to scare away other nations from sailing through. The captain concluded, ‘Son, this is not the end of the world, but the beginning of a new world!’ The stated revelation anchored in my grandfather’s mind forever.”

Parthenis stared at Captain Hamelkon pensively. Their eyes met in a moment of understanding, linking the souls of their Ancestors who had mastered the seas and far beyond that.

He sighed then released with confidence, “We know the wind and the current of the water!” Examining the sky above, he added, “But that’s not all. We, Phoenician sailors, depend much on the stars to navigate. If you really want to reach your goal,” he gave her that kind of intense look that usually preceded a major announcement, “then, fair Lady, you have to follow the stars!”

He excused himself and walked away.

But Parthenis would indeed follow the stars…

Her stars…

 

*  *  *

On the afternoon of the seventh day, the “Astarte” arrived safely at the port of Athens. The passengers rushed out, eager to stand on firm land; the land of Greece! Parthenis had waited for this moment with the same fervor. She had craved to experience the world from a new perspective. The moment she set foot on the shore and smelled the new exotic fragrance in the air, she knew that she would like it here.

“Welcome to Greece… Lady… Sir…!”

The greeting ensued from an old man with a bald head and a long white beard. He murmured the word Phoenicians with a look of appreciation at their ethnic outfits.

“Sir needs a ride to the city?” He proposed pointing a wrinkled hand at his two-horse stagecoach a few steps away.

From his spot, Mnesarchus assessed the status of the horses and the wagon with a critical look. He then negotiated the price for the service before agreeing. 

And so, after some young porters set their luggage in, the carriage took off towards the great city of Athens. Despite the dust that the horses lifted in their path, Parthenis appreciated the efforts of the old driver in maneuvering smoothly. She overlooked the uncomfortable ride on the jagged road to concentrate on the new panorama that unfurled along their path. Plains rich with vine and olive trees outstretched from both sides of the road.

She discerned some farmers working the lands and detected the songs of dozens of women picking dark grapes, depositing them on large baskets. Children played in the field. Some ran around each other, while the older ones carried the filled baskets to a destination she could only guess. She beamed at the scene that reminded her of the harvest season in her homeland.

Ahead of them, some mountains took shape little by little. The more they neared their destination, the larger the mountains appeared. Finally, they neared the impressive gate of the city wall. Parthenis lifted up her eyes, in awe, at the mountain on which stood the magnificent metropolis of Athens.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Mnesarchus remarked with a look at her.

“It is indeed,” she breathed out in a murmur of awe.

“Originally, the city initiated on the rock of the Acropolis, two hundred and seventy meters above the sea level,” he explained. “Upon flourishing and developing, it spread around the hill from all sides, and then all the way down the ancient fortress where the Athenians now live. Today, Athens has become one of the most important cities of Greece!”

Parthenis did not answer, for their carriage was, just now, slowly penetrating into the city, and a whole new world of sight and sound unwrapped around her, taking her breath away. She took in, at once, the remarkable dynamism of the city through its activities, colors, assortment and beauty. There were sculptors almost everywhere; busy shaping stones into fine-looking statues. In the plaza square, just there, below the northwestern road to the Acropolis, poets recited their prose and hymns to whoever would show interest; and many did!

“Sappho!” Their driver announced, indicating a woman of medium stature, violet hair and dark-purple tunic. “She is our pride, this poetess. She always presents us with the most sensational poems and elegies in town!”

With curious interest, Parthenis examined the young woman of ivory face and honey smile. She stood, barefooted, two steps above a small crowd. At her side, a beautiful girl played the lyre while the poetess recited some poem of sensual wordings and melodic tones.

“She writes for various personages and genders, mainly songs of passion, love, yearning, and reflection,” the driver expounded with fervor as he drove the wagon all too leisurely.

“Where is she from?” Parthenis asked, eager to know more.

“Sappho? She was born into an aristocratic family on the isle of Lesbos in the Aegean Sea. She is the most famous poetess in, perhaps, all of Greece! We call her a lyrist because her poems are performed with the accompaniment of a lyre.”

“And who is the young lyrist at her side?”

“She is Gongyla, a beautiful rose with a Lydian lyre.” With these words, the old man expressed his affection and admiration. “They both came together two days ago from Sicily. They are here to perform a daily hymn to the goddess Aphrodite. I think she will start right now, please listen to her… Lady… Sir…!”

And the couple did, the rhymes reaching Parthenis, melodious and warm, with some pitch of supplication that touched her deeply and echoed almost in every corner around the city square.

 

On the throne of many hues, immortal Aphrodite, Child of Zeus, weaving wiles -– I beg you not to subdue my spirit, Queen,

with pain or sorrow.

 

But come – If ever before having heard my voice from far away You listened, and leaving your father’s golden home you came in your chariot yoked with swift, lovely sparrows bringing you over the dark earth

thick-feathered wings swirling down

from the sky through mid-air.

 

Arriving quickly -– you, Blessed one, with a smile on your unaging face asking again what have I suffered and why am I calling again

 

And in my wild heart what did I most wish

to happen to me: ”Again whom must I persuade back into the harness of your love?

Sappho, who wrongs you?

 

For if she flees, soon she’ll pursue, she doesn’t accept gifts, but she’ll give, if not now loving, soon she’ll love even against her will.”

 

Come to me now again, release me from

this pain, everything my spirit longs to have fulfilled, fulfill, and you be my ally.

 

 

     The crowd went cheering in ovations to the poetess and the goddess Aphrodite. With the tip of her fingers, Parthenis swapped a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Amazing!” she murmured.

Mnesarchus grabbed her hand and leaned closer to her ear.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“You mean I love it!”

“I knew you would”

“Oh dear, this is just a completely different world,” she asserted without taking her eyes off the scenes around them.

Mnesarchus chuckled quietly. “It is indeed, dear. This is exactly the same impression new comers get during their first visit to this great city.”

“You can feel all this energy pulling you… amazing…” she blurted out in admiration.  

Art is what the Athenians lived for and survived on, she remembered her husband informing her back home. It is the source of their happiness and their source of life.

She could not agree more now that she had witnessed the Athenian art expanding across the city in a rhapsody of colors, shapes and sounds.

Their driver ordered the horses and they finally came to a halt. The cart stopped. Mnesarchus helped his wife down with much precaution. She waited for him to supervise the unloading of their luggage. As he retrieved from his pouch some Athenian coins to pay their driver, three young men of poor attire rushed to offer their services in carrying their bags. Mnesarchus looked them in the eye for a moment, assessing their honesty. The instant he nodded in agreement, they hastily grabbed the luggage and followed the couple on their way to the Agora city square.

“Here we are, dear! Fascinating, isn’t it?” Mnesarchus announced with enthusiasm at reaching the famous plaza. “As you can see, this is the heart of the public life of Athens.”

Parthenis held on tightly to his arm to avoid being dragged off by the large crowd in the market place. Packed with fervent customers from different ethnicities, the borough captivated her utmost interest.

“Who are all these people? They don’t all seem to  be locals,” she remarked.

“No, dear, they aren’t all locals. Traders and customers seek this place from all the corners of the world.”

“Hmm… Impressive,” she thought out loud.

“See that old man leading a discussion over there?” He discreetly directed her attention to a small group of men intensely absorbed in a debate.

The old man in question carried his long white hair and neat beard with dignity. His white tunic with blue belt and sleeves enhanced his noble appearance.

“Yes, who is he?”

“He is Solon, the wise man of Athens. I bet he is exchanging some of his astute views with these citizens.”

“Views on what, dear?” she asked curiously, “Politics?”

“Yes, and also justice, religion and economy. He is eminent in these fields. The two advisors at his sides are our countrymen, dear. Two notorious Phoenicians, “Thales[6] and …”

“That man looks like my brother… what… is that Pherecydes[7]!” She wondered and yelled in surprise, interrupting him. “My brother Pherecydes!”

Mnesarchus burst out laughing loudly. “Yes, dear, your brother Pherecydes is here!”

She was in dismay, ignoring that her brother stood as the close advisor of the most famous Solon.

My brother is a private advisor of the sage! The surprising revelation reiterated in her mind. Pride overwhelmed her and tears of joy filled her eyes that riveted on her brother. Not only one but two top Phoenician consultants! She thought with pride as she observed both Phoenicians who appeared as magnificent as the High Magistrate with their white tunics trimmed with blue.

“Both Thales and Pherecydes are also the closest friends of Solon,” Mnesarchus explained to her discreetly. “They help him run the politics of this great city, even if on a minor scale.”

Parthenis realized that her husband had been right about the influence of her countrymen in this foreign land. Its socio-political foundation certainly revealed the fingerprints of Phoenician philosophies and the spirit of their Art. She turned a more attentive ear to his explanations.

“Initially, the aristocratic Eupatridae families governed Athens. Then Solon took charge twenty years ago. He is the son of Execestidas; a descendant of ancient Athenian kings.”

“So, he issues from a family  high up,” Parthenis concluded. 

“Right,” Mnesarchus replied with a nod. “Let’s have a walk around the city square,” he proposed and led her gently by the waist.

“But my love, I want to talk to my brother. I haven’t seen him in two years.” She gave Mnesarchus an insistent look.

“I’m sorry. We can’t do that right now dear. We have to wait until they finish with their discourse.”   

   

The magnificent shrines and public buildings of different structures caught her interest straight away. She stopped for a while in front of the Royal Stoa, known also as the Basileios, and then moved to admire the Council House, or what was called the Old Bouleuterion.

“This is the Heliaia, dear,” Mnesarchus drew her attention to a major rectangular structure. “It is the Supreme Court; the most important civil law court in the country, one of the biggest in the whole known world!”

              Erected on a high ground, right there to the southwest corner of the Agora, the Heliaia faced the Old Bouleuterion on the west side. It formed a large square fence with no internal divisions or rooms, nor roof.

      She frowned slightly then her eyebrows lifted at him in wonder.

     “The hearings take place outdoors, under the sun,” he expounded with a grin. “The Heliaia drew its name from the word congregation or ecclesia, meaning the Assembly; the Principal Assembly for Democracy.”

From their spot, the couple could heed the voice of Solon that resonated strongly throughout the Agora. His words entered every ear, “The aristocratic control on the government: the eupatridae, must end! No more owners controlling the best lands and manipulating the poor by driving them into debt! The mission of this very council aims at subsiding the agony of the poor.”

Parthenis and Mnesarchus veered promptly at the source of such a strong statement. Stunned, Parthenis gawked at her husband whose eyes widened then shrunk in utmost attention.

“Am I wrong, or this is really a…”

“Shush dear,” he interrupted her kindly. “Listen…” he intoned in a whisper.

She did. And how could she not!

“When our farmers are unable to settle their debts, they are forced to become hard laborers!” Solon charged fearlessly.  “This means that they become slaves in their own lands. This is unacceptable! We will introduce a new body of law that will be just. Just and fair to all people without exception! Especially in consideration of the poor who are inhumanly abused.”

From the large crowd, voices rose in cheering approval. Mnesarchus grabbed her by the forearm and drew her closer to the stage where history was unfurling. Judging by the diverse attires evidencing different social classes, Parthenis noted that Athenians of wealth mingled with the underprivileged and listened to the sage with the same deference.

“We will redeem all dispossessed lands and all the enslaved citizens shall regain their freedom! The decree will be issued at the end of this pronouncement. Yet, rejoice people of Athens, as I assure you that the decree is in effect as of this very moment!” Solon proclaimed with fervor.

The crowd roared, applauded and burst out in an amazing display of exaltation. People shook hands and slapped each other’s shoulders in congratulations. Slogans proclaiming Solon as liberator were hailed. Mnesarchus and Parthenis witnessed, in awe, the extraordinary moments of a powerful reform in the Agora of Athens. Parthenis had indeed guessed rightly!

Solon raised his hands to impose silence; yet to quiet down the jubilation of a mass that had long lost hope of improving their situation, was not an easy deed.

Thales climbed higher on the steps and shouted for silence. “My friends, that is not all! Listen!”

A wise man himself, and as highly respected as Solon, people shushed and turned their attention to him to heed what he was about to announce.

“Alternative jobs, like trades and other professions, shall be provided to those unable to work the land and become farmers. The new coined money you’ve seen around lately, have been issued within a better quality and standard, and we have casted them especially for the Athenians.”

“Soon, we will introduce new weights and measures to encourage and develop the trade of our Athenian products through the mercantile world. And we are talking about all our products, including our olive oil, grains, wines, and potteries!”

Applauses resounded and hails stirred the Agora. Awe and admiration brightened the eyes riveted on the wise men, as if this wise trio announcing the great news were life saviors. Parthenis felt the contagious excitement and she joined in clapping for the orators. Her husband laughed in amusement. 

Apparently, Thales had more announcements to make for he did not wait for the crowd to shush again. But then he gave the podium to Pherecydes who stepped in and proclaimed loudly, “Fair citizens! The rich among you shall replace the eupatridae. We will organize a survey of yearly earnings that would be fundamentally calculated according to the commercial transactions of our principal products. To achieve that objective, we will divide you into four groups. Political privilege will therefore be approached accordingly. Hence, each one of you is entitled to attend the General Assembly, the Ecclesia, or the Sovereign Body, and to participate in the making of laws and decrees. You will also elect officials and listen to appeals of the most considerable decisions of the courts.”

Impressed, Mnesarchus and Parthenis looked up at the wise men with great respect, as did the crowd. Mnesarchus edged closer to Parthenis to whisper in her ear with emotion, “This is history, my dear. What we are hearing now is the laying of the foundation of one of the most important codes of human life to date. It is indeed an evolution of social structure!”

Parthenis stood still, absorbing the revelation in its entire immensity. She turned then to read in his eyes the confirmation of such extraordinary news. She was speechless. The voice of Solon drew her attention back to his speech.

“The poorest among you may have to work, one year after another, on a new Council of Four Hundred, which will prepare business affairs for the General Assembly. However, the highest positions in the new government will be reserved for the citizens of the top two income groups.”

Solon took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment in which every mind present there awaited in suspense. Nobody dared disturb the silence that reigned. Everybody held their breath in expectation. The seriousness of the moment kept them hostages to the unspoken meditation of the High Magistrate.

Parthenis could have sworn she heard the mass breathing out when Solon reopened his eyes. She sensed the vibrations of their forthcoming trepidation. Solon gazed down at them before his intense look got lost in the horizon.

As if staring into the future, he declared slowly, measuring his words one by one, “My people, today, we place in front of you the foundation of the future democracy.”

The words of Solon, the Athenian statesman, legislator and poet, resounded like a strong pledge. He had spoken of a social structure with a proper place and function for each class within. He had just proposed a solution to some major problems that had been weighing on them for many years; a solution based, not on revolutionary forms, but rather on a global reform, both economic and political.

Mnesarchus whispered to her, “Even in his poems, Solon tackles the socio-economic differences.”

Parthenis edged closer to him and asked in the same tone, “Tell me about it, please.”

 

“See, he recently wrote these verses:

 

‘Some wicked men are rich,

Some good are poor;

We will not change our virtue for their store:

Virtue is a thing that none can take away,

But money changes owners all the day.’”

 

 

The evening fell on the Agora by the time the wise men bid their farewell. The crowd dispersed with the Athenians rushing to their families. On this third night of the full moon, the news of a major reform would be announced in every home.

Eager to speak to her brother, Parthenis struggled against the current of people in order to make her way through. She finally reached the spot where the wise men had reigned over the crowd a while ago only to face her own disappointment at noticing that Pherecydes had disappeared out of sight without knowing of her presence.

There, near the royal porticoes, some finely carved wooden tablets stood on an axis. Parthenis approached to read the inscription:

 

New Laws of Athens

On display for all the citizens to see.

 

- Honor the Gods.

- Be convinced that virtue and integrity are more honorable   than the oath.

- Respect your parents.

- Make yourself busy with the serious things in Life.

- Know to obey in order to succeed in leading.

- Do not consult the attractive, but the beautiful.

- Take reason for guidance.

- Do not lie.

- Do not walk with Evil…

 

Before she managed to read through the remaining laws, the sound of running steps echoed behind her and she veered abruptly. She breathed in relief at seeing her husband. His frown and tightened lips reflected his worry.

“What it is, honey?” she asked in dread. 

“Goodness, Parthenis! I’ve been looking for you all around!” he retorted in a suffocated tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I was just trying to reach my brother.” She smiled and edged closer to caress his chest in reassurance.

But he did not seem to let it go. “Please, Parthenis! What were you thinking of to meander here all alone? Can’t you see the place is deserted and too dark for your own sake? And the baby… have you thought of our baby?”

Parthenis examined her surroundings for the first time. She blushed at her impulsivity, as she was not the kind of woman to take things lightly.

Apparently, Mnesarchus realized her discomfiture. He sighed deeply then took her tenderly by the shoulders and said in a soothing voice, “Come on. Let us call it a night. I admit the day was quite unusual. A good rest will do us both good. The porters have delivered our luggage to the inn already and the comfort of our lodge is waiting for us.”

He walked with her through the narrow streets. The silence in the night took in the sound of their footsteps joined by the tuneful hum he intoned softly to her.

 

*  *  *

On the second day, Parthenis walked the city square with graceful confidence at her husband’s side. She ignored the male admiration she drew on her way and kept to her queenly bearing. Despite the warmth of the city, she had thrown a light, purple cape on her shoulders. Her brown silk tunic fell loose on her body without the belt she had  discarded due to her advanced pregnancy. A blue ribbon held her black tresses high at the back of her head while some untamed curls spread out on her forehead. A necklace of gold and amber decorated her bosom and matched the bracelet on her forearm nicely.

Mnesarchus, walking proudly by her side, carried one of the most beautiful artifacts his fellow countrymen had ever manufactured; the Royal Purple. The couple headed to their meeting with the wealthy buyer.

“Mnesarchus… oh… Parthenis!” A familiar voice shouted with a startling tone from behind them and they both stopped at once.

“Pherecydes!” Parthenis exclaimed gladly at seeing her brother at last, and rushed into his arms.

“What a surprise, Parthenis! I didn’t know you were in Athens.”

“We came yesterday. And I saw you, Pherecydes… with Solon… and…,” Parthenis blurted out her words with excitement. “I had no idea! You have become a sage and a close friend to Solon, the wise man of Athens!”

Pherecydes responded to her excitement with a wide grin.

“Oh Pherecydes, that is indeed a great honor to our family!”

“Parthenis, fair sister, what a joy to see you! It has been a while now!” He hugged her again and snapped a resounding kiss on her forehead. Gazing at her face lifted to him, he asked “So, how is the future boy of our family?”

“Oh, you too?” Parthenis stepped back in surprise. “You also know about the baby boy?”

Pherecydes and Mnesarchus burst out laughing.

“I’ve really missed you, fair sister!”   

The family reunion engulfed her with an amazing sense of belonging. Moreover, the fact that her own brother, a wise man himself, had just declared his belief in the prophecy of Delphi, added more validity to her search. She somehow felt confident about the outcome and anticipated her encounter with the famous priestess.

 

Later that day, Pherecydes accompanied the couple through the lively city. They headed towards the Acropolis where the old city had once stood. Out of love and consideration for the fifth month pregnancy of Parthenis, both men took their time up the long stairway to the huge temple. They constantly urged her to pause and she welcomed those short stops where she rested on the platform along the stairway. The heat would momentarily lessen on her skin, as the gentle fingers of the breeze would touch her hair and caress her cheeks, refreshing her stamina and inciting her to move on.

They finally reached the entrance and stepped inside the hall. Parthenis breathed in delight at the cooler temperature of the interior. A colossal statue of the goddess Athena (Promachos) stood impressively in the center. Built up through the years in beauty and majesty, the structural design met her eyes in fascination.

“The altar of Athena,” Mnesarchus whispered to her, directing her attention to the left. “She’s the goddess of Mind, Art and Sciences. Worshippers present her their sacrifices by burning cows and sheep.”

“I see,” Parthenis commented pensively then took a look over her shoulder at a large hallway where there reigned the shrine of…

“Zeus,” he explained, attentive to her every move. “This is the shrine of Zeus, king of the Greek gods.”  

She turned to give it her full attention, and as she stepped forward, he took her hand to walk towards the shrine, with her brother at her other side. Their steps echoed in the colonnade, empty but for the presence of a lonely man in a white and blue tunic. His head slightly bowed on his thoughts, he paced the hall with his hands behind his back.

“Thales!” Pherecydes called out, recognizing his friend.

Thales halted, grinned and came forward to meet them. Introductions soon made, they all partook in a friendly conversation.

Parthenis listened to him with respectful attention. She restrained from asking a particular question that tantalized her mind. After a while, she grew restless and decided to put it forward.

“The Oracle of Delphi?” Thales repeated. “I did pay her a visit once and that in spite of my doubts. Call it curiosity,” he added with a witty smile. “The truth is that I refused to believe her at first, putting it all on account of her imagination. Yet, what she had foretold to me back then did occur later on and in such a precise way that I had to admit that she was not the fraud I had assumed.” He paused on a certain hidden thought of his, sighed then declared, “After that, I cannot but believe that all things are full of gods.”

“Do you mean to say that all things are full of divinity?”

His dark eyes brightened with a new respect at her sharp deduction and he advanced, “Yes, my Lady, this is exactly what I meant.”

His assertion created enough reason in her mind to yield her closer to the authenticity of the Priestess. She had to convince herself that a man of such wisdom and soberness like Thales could never claim anything more than the truth. She read the sparkle of relief in her husband’s eyes.

She nodded with a bright smile. 

“I understand that you are finally okay with our visit to consult the Oracle.” It was more of a question than an affirmation.

“Yes dear, I am okay with it.”

Thales approved of her decision with a nod. “I advise you to visit on the seventh day of the Delphic month. It will be the birthday of the god Apollo thus the best timing for a consultation.”

“Three days from now,” Pherecydes noted.

“Oh!” She murmured, suddenly realizing how soon it would be.

“We should be on our way by tomorrow then,” Mnesarchus decided in a serious tone. “It will take us two days to reach it.”

Parthenis grabbed her brother’s arm and asked, “Would you come along, Pherecydes?” A note of imploration betrayed her.

He stared at her with an encouraging smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, beloved sister!” He patted her hand then kept his on hers as if to infuse her with courage. He looked at Thales and said, “Would you join us, my friend?”

“I Sure will!” Thales accepted the invitation with patent enthusiasm.

Parthenis rejoiced at the thought of having the company of all three men in that important journey. Somehow, it made her feel more secure.

There existed only two options for those who marched to meet their destiny. To journey alone, or with those who might share the same fate.

And in this case, it concerned the revelation of the fate of a future Phoenician boy, and all of them were highly interested in heeding the prophecy.

 

Very early at dawn the next day, the carriage left the city still asleep in tranquility. The group reached the outskirts of the city of Thebes at the time the sun was edging the horizon.

“Our first stopover,” Pherecydes announced in relief. “Thebes, my friends, is one of the many Grecian cities founded by Kadmus, our notorious Phoenician!”

“Is it so?” Parthenis straightened up on her seat.

“True,” Thales confirmed with his deep, serene voice. “When the god Zeus kidnapped Europa from Phoenicia, Kadmus undertook, in secret, a long search for his sister. During those years he worked on colonizing several cities and civilizing the Greek nation to whom he introduced the phonetic Alphabet.”

Parthenis knew that famous story of her great Ancestor, but to come to see one of his achievements was something overwhelming. They soon reached an inn, west of Thebes, and stopped for their breakfast. They decided to extend their stay to allow Parthenis to visit the city.

During their lunch time, she engaged in conversation with Tales and her brother. With grace and sincerity, she expressed her pride at their improvement endeavors. She openly spoke of her emotion at witnessing the historical social and economic reform they had proclaimed a few days earlier.

By the evening, exhaustion took the best of her. Her silence betrayed her at the dinner table, so did her reluctance to stand up and continue the journey. She gratefully welcomed her companion’s sudden decision, claiming, all at once, that the wooden cottage was too beautiful and much too appealing not to reside there for the night.

Early in the afternoon of the following day, the group reached some stately fields that stretched wide beneath Mt. Parnassus. On one of its many superposing slopes, stood the Temple overlooking, with all its beauty, the valley of the Plistus River. Considered as the most holy place in Greece, the temple of Mt. Parnassus was known as the navel of the world.

The group stepped out of the stagecoach at the outskirts of the Temple. Parthenis wished her physical status would allow her to stretch out her back like her companions did. She instead contented herself in bracing in deeply the fresh air that enlivened her. Her fatigue waned gradually. Her eyes relaxed at the amazing view below the mountain and she felt a delicious sense of peace. Only then, did she decide to proceed with her visit. From the carriage, she retrieved a package containing her offerings, brought from Lebanon, especially for this visit. This one contained a ritual cake and Cedar incense for the God Apollo, the Sun.

They entered the Temple from the East side in deferential silence and halted at the altar for Parthenis to present the Priests with her parcel. Thales came forward and offered to stand as the sole sponsor of the consultation. The Priests agreed and scheduled their session for the early morning of the next day. They invited the group to stay overnight in the dormitory of the pilgrims near the Temple.

At dinner time, Parthenis met Pythia, the Priestess-Medium. Now in her fifties, Pythia assumed, among other tasks, the role of attending to the female visitors. The presentation was done and the Priestess off to her duties elsewhere.

“Pythia was a young virgin chosen from among the poorest families in the region, as is the tradition here, to serve the Temple,” Thales addressed Parthenis in a low voice. “Living a life of asceticism since then, she resides in an annexed secluded room. She is not much of a talkative person, Parthenis, so please don’t take it personally when she attends to you tomorrow morning,” he added with a hint of a smile.  

And so it happened. Pythia woke her up at sunrise and attended to her ritual bathing in the Castalian spring. Afterwards, she escorted her to the Cassotis sacred spring to drink from the pure water of its source.

When the ritual ended, she escorted her to the main entrance of the Temple. On a golden plate above the entrance, words written in different ancient languages intrigued Parthenis who stopped to read “Man know thyself...”

Once inside, she followed Pythia a few strides to the right and down into a small, low ceilinged cell built in the rock. The cold engulfed her. With fascination and dread, she watched the Priestess-Medium performing some formal procedure. All too slowly, she mounted a brass tripod angled into certain mystical mathematical degrees. Parthenis deemed the tripod to hold some sacred meanings. Pythia had already placed it over a crevice in the ground through which emanated prophetic vapors. She then went on chewing some shrub leaves from the sacred Laurel tree of Apollo.

There in complete silence and dim light, an intense fog of fumes engulfed her to throw her at once into a trance. She appeared moving into another dimension that could be spiritual. Smoothly and easily, she appeared to grasp that other arcane world as if gifted for such a strange exploit. Thales appeared behind Parthenis and, as he had previously promised to be her sole sponsor, he stood there silent, watching…

A priest of the Temple came forward and interpreted to her ears the unfurling scene.

“Pythia is communicating with the god Apollo. She will now speak with the mouth of Python; the Serpent of Wisdom.”

Parthenis felt spellbound by the incoherent words that spurred out of the odd woman. She felt grateful to that priest when he explained the strange verses to her.

“You will have a son, Parthenis…. A great man he shall be… He shall play a major role… in the evolution of the Human race….”

In a motherly instinct of protection, Parthenis covered her belly with trembling hands.

Her own son… a great man who will affect the entire Human race?!

That was a lot for her to absorb at once. She remained still though as the revelation continued from the mouth of Pythia and interpreted at once by the baldheaded yet bearded, tall priest.

“Your son, Parthenis, will be born in Saydoun. At the age of one, you must take him to Gebel… to be baptized by the Priests of AL… there in the Adonis River….”

Parthenis shivered with emotion. Such a prophecy could not have been uttered but by the foremost spirit of Al-Elyon; the God-Light, the Most High. Overwhelmed, she fought back her tears.

Pythia slouched to the floor and went silently subdued. Parthenis stared down at her motionless body with anxiety then assumed that the vision had ended at that. She turned to the priest. He remained silent. Confused, not knowing what to do, she then turned to Thales for reassurance, and at his nod, her concern faded away. He smiled with what seemed to her an expression of satisfaction and divine hope. Her heart beat faster. She drew her shivering hand to her mouth to abstain from screaming out her elation. Then, without further ado, she veered on her heels and rushed out.

As she crossed the threshold of the exit door from the West side, she came to a quick halt, went back on her steps, looked up at the inscription above the door and read the golden sign. “…You will know the secrets of the Universe and the gods”.

She frowned in concentration for a while. Her intuition told her of the importance of solving this puzzle. She recalled what she had read on her way in from the Eastern side. She grinned. Composing both sentences into one, she said out loud: “Man know thyself... You will know the secrets of the Universe and the gods”.

The moment she pronounced the mystical message, her baby-boy moved in a circular motion inside her womb.