Saralledh had traveled to the Temple of Artemis for the first task and after more than a hundred years since the Day of Light as the Ephesians called it, the jets had finally stopped.
Saralledh had died, passing on his knowledge to Minnaeus who in turn had entrusted Pallanthus with the responsibility of getting on with the task. It was time for the second task.
“The second is a statue
The greatest that exists
Take it to the God of Gods
For divinity’s kiss
There it shall be empowered
With the strength of Gods
Take it Bearer, take it now
Take it against all odds.”
THE POWER
Olympia, 428 B.C.
Pallanthus had slipped away before the Ephesians had awoken to the fact that their miracle was missing. The priests had urged him to escape before he was killed by angry mobs. Hours later, while the priests tried their best to pacify an initially shocked, and then raging public with stories of the Gods having taken the Seed, Pallanthus had accepted a merchant’s offer to take him to Cronion hill and at that moment he was standing under the towering shadow of Mt. Olympia, the gushing of the Alpheius playing softly in his ears.
He trudged on, the sun beating down on his bare neck as he asked incredulous people for directions to the Statue of Zeus. He ignored their skeptical stares – it was incomprehensible to them that one did not know where Zeus sat!
Inwardly Pallanthus smiled to himself. He was going to be the first Bearer to witness two miracles! For years he had wondered as to what the second verse of the prophecy had meant, finally, he had heard of a statue – Zeus, Head of the Greek Pantheon – a statue so incredible that its fame was unparalleled in the world!
Pallanthus looked up in awe at the magnificent structure before him. With slow, admiring steps, he entered the temple and stood with his mouth gaping in wonder. Splendid columns rose heavenwards arching into an enormous roof. Carvings, sculptures, reliefs and friezes so exquisite that for one eternal moment Pallanthus forgot he carried Sarothen’s Young.
Bearing down upon him, striking in gold and ivory on a throne made only for the God of Gods, sat Zeus – titanic in proportions, frightful in power – appearing to unroof the mighty structure if by chance He stood up.
Pallanthus walked closer, admiring the beauty of the throne, for that was mostly all he could see. Craning his neck as far up as it could go, Pallanthus smiled as he saw what he was looking for. On Zeus’ right hand, proudly stood a figure of victory while the other gripped a mighty sceptre with the most beautifully sculpted eagle perched on top.
He made his way to one of the priests and had just started explaining when the priest stopped him.
“We have contacts with Ephesus, you know. People do talk about the Miracle. Just tell me what has to be done.”
Surprised at how easy it was to explain himself, Pallanthus was silent for a few moments and then he said -
“A ladder! I need a ladder!”
“What?”
“I need a ladder!”
Somewhat puzzled, the priest hurried off; then whispered something lengthily to another man, who kept occasionally glancing at Pallanthus, finally leaving the temple.
The priest walked back to Pallanthus – he’ll get a ladder in the evening, after the people have gone. It’ll be easier without the sensationalism. I assume you’ll be climbing Zeus.” He said this in a cold tone and Pallanthus realized how disrespectful it seemed to be clawing up the God of Gods.
“If you find it dis….” He began saying.
“It must be done” the priest cut him short. “Where is this Seed, by the way?” he asked, his eyes searching an uncomfortable Pallanthus’ body for it.
Faintly disturbed, Pallanthus replied-
“In a safe place”
“Is it with you right now?”
“Why does it matter?”
The priest gave a small jerk with his head.
With lots of time before sunset and uneasy doubts stirring in his mind, Pallanthus walked out, unconsciously patting the small bag he had tied to his neck and worn under his clothes.
***
When Pallanthus returned some time after darkness had fallen, he was not only struck by the immensity of Zeus as he glittered in the brilliance of the lamps but far more by the total emptiness of the place. Whereas Artemis’ temple had been full of priests, Zeus, it seemed, sat alone.
Not totally alone though. Pallanthus felt the silence press down on him as he watched the priest he had met earlier that day stand quietly at the base of Zeus’ mighty throne, the shadows flickering across his face.
“The ladder is ready”
“As I am”
“You know what to do?”
“Yes it’s all given in…” Pallanthus paused awkwardly.
“You were saying something?”
“I’m ready. That’s all.”
A moment of silence passed. One of the lamps creaked.
“Where are the other priests?”
“We thought it best not to disturb you.”
Silence again.
“Would you like me to do whatever it is that is to be done?”
“No, no, I can manage.”
Pallanthus turned his back to the priest and put his foot on the ladder. In the blink of an eye, the priest cried out, “For Zeus!”, clenched Pallanthus’ hair, jerked back his head and slit his throat open.
Pallanthus made a gasping, gurgling noise and dropped dead on the floor, the glistening tiles slowly turning scarlet.
Groping in the blood, the priest frantically began searching for the Seed.
“You alone do not hold the secret, fool! That Seed is mine and mine alone!”
Suddenly, a voice spoke out –
“That Seed you are looking for – you won’t get it there – that Seed is mine!”
The priest recoiled in horror as two men quietly stepped out from the shadows – one of them clearly the chief cleric. The man who was speaking was young, in his early twenties, and in his hand was a small black pouch.
The priest eyed it hungrily but the cleric spoke-
“Step away, murderer! How could you, Aristopheles? In the sanctity of Zeus’ chamber!”
“It was a sacrifice to Zeus, your Greatness!”
“Sacrifice, my foot!” yelled the young man. “You wanted the Seed”
“Quiet, Perellius”
“Your Greatness, forgive me!”
“You shall die Aristopheles. You have committed murder as a priest."
“The man is lying, believe me, your Greatness, he’s lying! He does not even know this man on the floor. He’s framing me!”
“There’s not much to frame, Aristopheles, when you commit a murder and then grope in your victim’s own blood. Pallanthus met Perellius soon after leaving you. He already had grave doubts about your intentions and he decided to entrust the Seed and its legacy to Perellius."
“Yes” continued Perellius “he gave me the Seed and a parchment along with the g... some other things. I am sworn to secrecy and can only show you the Seed. It is my responsibility and I know what to do.”
“Fanciful stories do not keep the priests away Aristopheles! I was wondering why you’d told the priests to stay away this evening when Pallanthus and Perellius came to me for my assistance. My doubts about you were confirmed.”
With that, the chief cleric clapped twice and a number of men sprang out of the shadows. Aristopheles’ eyes bulged with fear. The men caught hold of him and dragged the screaming man away, the temple walls echoing the anguished, terrorized cries for mercy. Slowly the calls faded away and Perellius, slightly shaken, turned to face the resolute chief cleric.
“Once again, thank you. My gratitude knows no bounds. If there is anything at all I could do for you-”
“Oh there is. That Seed-”
Perellius’ face turned hard-
“If you want the Seed, I’m afraid I cannot give it to you. I-”
“I do not want the Seed. All I ask of you is that when the Seed does get its power, do not use it. No good can come from one man holding the world to his whims and fancies.”
For a moment, Perellius seemed hesitant then-
“You do realize I shall be long gone when the Seed’s power is unlocked.”
“But you can pass my message on, can’t you?”
Perellius nodded, inwardly glad that he would not have to be the one to decide. Power corrupts after all.
“Well” said the cleric, abruptly changing the subject, “I think you should start with what you need to do.”
Perellius nodded. “Yes, of course”
He made his way to towards the ladder, grimacing at the body that lay beside him in a pool of blood. Slowly, cautiously, he climbed upwards till he faced Zeus’ massive right hand. With great agility, Perellius dropped down on the palm and walked towards the figure of Victory standing proudly ahead of him.
He gripped the figure as well as he could and turned it once clockwise, twice anti-clockwise and five times clockwise again. Simultaneously, the eagle on Zeus’ immense sceptre moved once anti-clockwise, twice clockwise and five times anti-clockwise. When the final turn clicked into place, the eagle rose into the air on a thin golden shaft revealing a crucible-shaped cavity on top of the sceptre.
Perellius climbed down, then pushed the ladder over to the left and exhaustedly crept up again.
When he reached the top, though, all his exhaustion vapourised. He stood beside the open sceptre – entranced by the maddening aroma coming from the cavity, hypnotised by the glittering liquid which shimmered with the brilliance of liquid gold.
“Ambrosia!” he whispered “The divine nourishment!”
Gingerly, he brought out the Seed and with trembling fingers dropped it in the liquid. For a second or two it floated, glistening, and then ever-so-slowly vanished into the liquid.
“Well?” came a voice from below, breaking Perellius’ trance. “Have you finished the task, son?”
“Yes – yes I have.”
Perellius unwillingly began climbing down the ladder. Having finally reached the floor again –
“Well, I did it!”
“Good, good. Now….?” The cleric’s voice trailed off.
“Now” said Perellius with emphasis “we wait for the moon!”
The cleric looked at him, puzzled.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“You see that tiny slit in the roof above Zeus’ crown?”
“Yes”
“Well then tell me – why isn’t the moonlight entering?”
“Why it must be – I – I don’t know”
“You see” explained Perellius “the slit is in such a position in the ceiling that the figures sculpted on top of the roof almost always block any light from reaching the slit. In the rare cases where the light does manage to enter through the slot, it is blocked by Zeus’ crown and head – it never manages to get beyond that.”
“Never?”
“Well – almost!”
“Go on”
“Every 125 years there comes a night – one night – when the moon is just slightly above the horizon. That one night, a beam of moonlight will fall on the sceptre.”
“And then…?”
Perellius shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. That’s all the prophecy tells me.”
“You have a prophecy?”
“Why yes!”
“Written down perhaps”
“Yes, but why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Well you’ve done what was to be done. Now get a good night’s sleep”
Perellius nodded and walked to the entrance of the temple, looking up in the sky where the moon floated serenely – cloaking itself in passing clouds.
“I’ll wait for you” Perellius whispered.
Perellius did wait. That month, that year, his entire life; but the slit remained dark – the moon happy to tease Perellius in its incompliance.
***
Satronus was still finishing supper, enjoying the last morsels while sipping his wine, when he saw it flash through. He choked, gulping down wine in huge quantities amidst fits of cough.
A thin, silver beam of moonlight was sparkling down from the ceiling, filtering through Zeus’ immense crown, past his huge shoulders and hitting the open sceptre in a brilliant halo of blinding light.
Satronus rushed outside and saw the full moon – just above the horizon, winking through the clouds. He rushed back inside and called out to one of the priests to bring a ladder.
“It’s on its way – we’ve seen it too!”
“Quick!”
“We’re getting it as fast as we can Satronus!”
“Well get it faster!”
When the ladder finally did come though, Satronus took a long pause and then thrust it against Zeus’ left shoulder and sprang on it like a cat. He was panting by the time he reached the sceptre’s open cavity but the sight he looked upon took all his breath away.
The edges of the shimmering ambrosia had risen from the cavity to form a liquid dome, penetrated by a single sliver of moonlight. Hovering a few inches above the ambrosia itself was the Seed of Sarothen – caught at a point where gold met silver, not very different from the gold and ivory statue of Zeus.
Satronus turned his eyes away from the blinding brilliance. He blinked for a moment or two and called down to the gathered priests –
“I think it’s ready. Should I touch it?”
“You should know, Satronus!”
Satronus took a deep breath and turned towards the light. With a quivering hand and a pounding heart he approached the silently rising ambrosia dome, expecting the ceiling to collapse or something equally disastrous to happen the moment he touched the ambrosia.
But nothing did happen. To his immense relief, his fingers passed through the dome, the cool ambrosia licking the sides of his hand. Satronus closed his fist around the Seed and slowly withdrew his hand, giving a fleeting glance at Zeus’ face who appeared as unperturbed as ever. The ambrosia dome gave a sighing gurgle and fell back into the cavity; and the shaft began to withdraw into the sceptre till the eagle once again closed out the cavity.
Satronus climbed down the ladder and spoke to the priests waiting below –
“I must leave now!”
“May the Gods help you in your task, Satronus. But remember what we’ve always said – what Perellius told you – do not use the Seed. Remember Satronus. Do not ever forget our words!”
Satronus nodded, putting the Seed into the small brown bag hung under his apparel around his neck. He patted it and said –
“Do not fear. I myself shall die long before the Seed is unlocked but I shall note your words; as will my successor.”
With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
***
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