‘We could if I step on it,’ she assured him. ‘Your garage has done you jolly well with this car. She goes like a bird.’
‘Splendid. I felt sure they would. The chaps there are always awfully nice to me. But there’s no hurry about getting to Patras. I thought we would take it easy, and lunch at Corinth.’
Her next question was: ‘What make of typewriter is yours?’
‘Oh dear!’ he exclaimed ruefully. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I can’t type, so I haven’t got one.’
She slowed down the car. ‘Well; I can’t type your manuscript without a machine, can I? If you want me to, we had better get hold of one before we leave Athens. They are expensive things to buy, but I think I know a place where you could hire one.’
He agreed at once, so she turned the car in the direction of Omonias Square—the Oxford Circus of Athens—and, in a street just off it, selected a portable with Roman lettering that seemed to have seen little service. As Robbie could now give no permanent address, he had to buy it outright; but he had plenty of money on him, and could obtain more at Patras. They then had to make a call at a stationer’s, to buy typing paper, carbons and ribbons; so it was well past eleven o’clock before, having by-passed the Piraeus, they came out on to the famous coast road which, for over two thousand years, has been known as the ‘Sacred Way’.
Soon they reached Daphni with its ancient convent among tall, candle-like cypress trees, and the little church with the gold mosaics that make it one of the great gems of Byzantine architecture. After another few kilometres, they had a splendid view on their left of the island of Salamis and the blue, almost landlocked bay that separated it from the mainland. Many centuries before, at some spot on the road they were now travelling, the mighty Persian King of Kings must have sat for a whole day, his confident hopes gradually turning to fear and despair, as he watched the much smaller Athenian Fleet destroying his mighty Armada—a victory that, by saving Greece from Asiatic domination, changed the whole history of the world.
The road then turned inland, and the seaward skyline was rendered hideous by clusters of tall chimneys, belching smoke from distilleries, cement works and soap factories. Robbie frowned at them in disgust and said: ‘One would have thought there were plenty of other places on the coast where they could have built those horrors. To have chosen Eleusis for them is the all-time high in modern vandalism.’
‘It was at Eleusis that the famous Mysteries used to be held, wasn’t it?’ Stephanie remarked. ‘And this road is called the Sacred Way because it was along it that the great processions used to come. I wonder what really happened at the Mysteries? Someone told me once that it was only a ceremony at which, when they came of age, young people of the upper classes were let into the secret that all they had been taught about there being gods and goddesses was bunkum; but that they must continue to support the priesthood because a little religion was good for the masses.’
Robbie gave her a shocked glance. ‘I’m sure you’re not right about that. To the ancient Greeks of all classes, the gods were very real, otherwise they wouldn’t have gone in such fear of them. For example, the Mysteries here were in honour of Demeter, and if they hadn’t done their stuff at her festivals, they would have been frightened that their crops would fail. There was a time when she caused a most terrible famine, and they never forgot it. But being a Greek yourself, you must know all about that.’
‘I suppose I ought to, but at the schools I went to they didn’t give much time to ancient history. I’ll have to mug it up a bit now, though, if I’m to understand the allusions to the characters in this book of yours that you were telling me about yesterday.’
‘If you read all the chapters I’ve already written, before you start to do any typing, that would be a help,’ Robbie suggested. ‘But I haven’t done the story of Demeter and Persephone yet. If you like, I’ll tell it to you now.’
‘Oh, please do,’ Stephanie smiled. ‘As a child I used to adore being read to and told stories.’
‘Right-oh.’ Robbie paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then began: ‘Well, I’d better start from the beginning. Demeter was one of the six children of Cronos and Rhea, so Poseidon, the King of the Sea; Pluto, the King of the Underworld; and Zeus, King of both Heaven and Earth, were her brothers.
‘In those days, apart from the Royal Family the world was mainly inhabited by monsters, so you’ll understand how it was that, to begin with, for marrying and, er … that sort of thing, these brothers and sisters had no one but one another.
‘Demeter was very good-looking, and Poseidon got a crush on her. But she took the same sort of dim view of him that you do of your cement magnate, so one night she slipped out of Olympus and came down here to live in Arcadia. To make even more certain of escaping Poseidon’s unwelcome attentions, she changed herself into a mare and joined a big herd. However, he was terribly keen on her, so he hunted for her all over the place and eventually he saw through her disguise. Then he turned himself into a stallion and … er …’ Robbie suddenly reddened and came to an abrupt stop.
‘Then they did what the bees and the birds do,’ Stephanie helped him out, adding with a little titter: ‘I am twenty-four, you know; so it’s quite a time since I learnt about the facts of life.’
Robbie gave an awkward laugh. ‘Thanks for being so frank. Otherwise, I’d have had an awful time trying to spare your blushes. You see, so much of that sort of thing went on among the gods and goddesses that if one cuts it out, their histories hardly make sense.
‘To continue, then. As a result of the affaire, Demeter gave birth to a horse that could talk, and had men’s feet instead of hooves on its right legs. She felt frightfully sick at the way she had been treated, so—’
‘I bet she did. What girl wouldn’t?’
‘Ah! Yes, of course. Well, she made herself look like a Fury, and went to live on her own in a cave. Zeus was the youngest of the family, but had managed to become top-boy, and had given all his brothers and sisters jobs to do; so in fairness to the others, he couldn’t let Demeter go on shirking. Down he came to her cave, and made her return with him to Olympus. By then she had become a lovely girl again, and suddenly he felt an urge … I mean, he, too, began to take a good view of her.’
‘More bees and birds stuff?’
‘That’s it; but she was just as much against letting him as she had been with Poseidon, so he had to deceive her by turning himself into a bull.’
‘Was she crazy about bulls, then?’
‘I’ve no idea. But that’s the way Zeus did the trick, and as a result Demeter had a daughter named Kore—although she is much better known by the name she took later, Persephone. I don’t think I mentioned it, but Demeter had the most marvellous golden hair and her daughter, who took after her, was just as lovely. Although Demeter continued to associate with the Olympians, she was still a bit sulky with Zeus for having taken her against her will, and spent quite a lot of her time in Sicily. Then, just when Persephone had become a really smashing teenager, Eros played one of his mischievous tricks.’
‘Eros was another name for Cupid, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes; and whoever he shot one of his arrows into fell in love with the next person they set eyes on. In this case he shot Pluto, and the King of the Underworld came up in a fiery chariot out of Mount Etna, roaring with rage. In a flash, he was half-way across the island and came down on the shore of a beautiful lake near the mountain stronghold of Enna. There, in a meadow, he saw young Persephone with her companions, making daisy chains. Snatching her up, he drove his pitchfork into the ground. It opened, and he carried Persephone straight down to the dark realm of Hades.’
Stephanie breathed a sigh. ‘It seems that all sorts of exciting things happened to girls in those days.’
Robbie turned to stare at her. ‘You wouldn’t like to be carried off like that, would you?’
‘It would depend on whether I liked the chap. There is something to be said for a tempestuous wooing. But I’
m interrupting the story.’
‘Well, naturally, Demeter was terribly upset at her daughter having disappeared, and fairly rushed about the world looking for her. At length the Sun God, Helios, let on to her that it was Pluto who had ravished Persephone.’
‘What a lovely word. It’s so descriptive. But go on.’
‘He also told her that it was really Zeus’s fault, because he had said he had nothing against Pluto’s acquiring the young blonde to brighten up his gloomy kingdom. At that, Demeter got more up-stage than ever. She severed all connection with her family and said that mortals were much nicer; in future she would live among them.
‘After wandering all over the place, she turned up at Eleusis, in the guise of an old woman dressed in rags. She spun the people there a yarn that she had been carried off by pirates, but, being too old to be much fun for them, they had put her ashore on the coast nearby. The King of Eleusis was a chap named Celeus, and his wife, Metaneira, had just had a baby. Hearing that Demeter had been offering her services round the town as a nurse, they decided to take her on.
‘In spite of her rags, they guessed from her bearing that she must be someone rather special, so they offered to treat her as one of the family. But she wouldn’t eat or drink with them, and just stood staring at the ground, until one of the slave girls made a bawdy joke. That set her off laughing, and eased the situation a bit. The baby, Demophoön, was given to her to take care of.
‘Instead of feeding the infant, she breathed on him, smeared his body with ambrosia, and at night put him in the fire, so that all that was mortal in him should be burnt away. The result was that he grew like a young god, but one night his mother happened to come into the nursery just as Demeter was piling red-hot coals on him. His mum threw a fit, and—’
‘Saints preserve us! I don’t wonder.’
‘Neither do I. But Demeter was extremely peeved at having her project interfered with. In a rage, she told Metaneira that she had ruined everything, and that it would no longer be possible for her to make the boy an Immortal. Then she scared the pants off all those present by suddenly appearing to them in all her glory. While their knees were still knocking, she ordered them to build a big temple, and worship her in it; but, still in a huff, she said that she meant to resume her travels.
‘However, before she left, she calmed down a bit and sent for the King’s eldest son, Triptolemus. Out of gratitude for the years that his family had given her a home, she gave him some grains of corn and taught him to plough and sow. Previous to this, the Greeks had lived on milk, honey, vegetables and, when they could get them, meat and fish. She told Triptolemus that he must share this secret with people in other parts of the world; so he spent years making demonstration tours, even as far away as Sicily, Scythia and Asia Minor. It was owing to his efforts that bread became the main item in everyone’s diet.
‘As she had said she would, Demeter went off on her wanderings again, but after some years she returned to Eleusis. By then, her bitterness about losing Persephone had become so acute that she decided to stage a sit-down strike. The job Zeus had given her was to look after agriculture, and now she announced that she would take her misery out on mankind by not letting any crops grow at all.
‘You can imagine how alarmed everyone became when February, March and April passed without a single blade of anything showing above ground. The gods became pretty worried, too. Zeus sent a messenger to tell her that she must stop this nonsense, or the whole human race would perish; but she ignored him. Then all the gods and goddesses came down one after the other, and pleaded with her to let up. But she said she couldn’t care less if everyone starved to death. The only terms on which she would allow things to grow were that she should be given back her daughter.
‘Zeus realised that he had no option but to climb down, so he sent Hermes down to Pluto to tell him that he must give up his young mistress. Pluto didn’t feel that he could say “To hell with you” to his powerful younger brother; but he had enjoyed having Persephone to stay with him, and he thought up a cunning ruse for ensuring that she should not leave him for good. Before she left for the upper world, he persuaded her to eat a pomegranate with him.
‘When Persephone got back to her mother’s arms and they had wept over one another for a bit, Demeter said: “While you were with that awful man, you didn’t eat anything with him, did you, dearest?”
‘ “Oh no, I didn’t need to, Mummy,” replied the ravished maiden. “But he wasn’t quite as hateful as you seem to think, and he was very anxious that I shouldn’t be hungry on my way home; so we had a glass of wine and a pomegranate together.”
‘ “You bloody young fool!”’ Robbie stopped abruptly, and with a contrite glance at Stephanie, muttered: ‘Sorry, but I was getting a bit carried away. Anyhow, that is more or less what Demeter must have said. Then she explained to her daughter that the pomegranate was Hera’s fruit. To share one with a man was standard practice as a formality by which one publicly accepted him as one’s husband.
‘Pluto, of course, claimed the girl back as his legally wedded wife, but Demeter threatened to go on strike again; so Zeus had to arbitrate between them. He proposed that Persephone should spend one-third of the year underground with her husband and two-thirds of it above ground with her mother. To everyone’s relief, not least the still starving inhabitants of the earth, the compromise was agreed to.
‘So, from then onwards, every year at Eleusis a great feast was held in October, when the leaves started to fall off the trees, and Persephone had to return to Hades, with entreaties that she would not get to like the place and stay there for good. And in February another was held with tremendous rejoicings, when the buds sprouted and blades of this and that appeared, showing that she was on her way back and there would be crops and a harvest to keep the human race going for another year.’
Seeing that Robbie had concluded his narrative, Stephanie said: ‘As you are so interested in these things, I suppose you have been to see the ruins of Eleusis?’
‘Oh yes,’ he assured her, ‘and those at Corinth and Sounion and the battlefield of Marathon, too. I’ve been to all the interesting places that I could get to in a day, but this is my first chance to go further afield.’
By this time, they were actually on the isthmus of Corinth and approaching the canal that enables ships to pass from the Ionian to the Aegean Sea, and saves them a two hundred mile journey round the rocky capes of the Peloponnesus. When they came to the bridge, Stephanie stopped the car and they got out to look over the parapet. The cut is nearly four miles long, and in places over two hundred feet deep, so from that height the strip of water below looked no wider than a broad pavement.
‘You wouldn’t think it’s as broad as the Suez Canal, would you?’ Robbie remarked. ‘Or that the ancients would not have been afraid to take on the colossal task of cutting it?’
‘They didn’t,’ replied Stephanie promptly. ‘It wasn’t open till the ‘nineties.’
‘I know, but the Romans planned it. The Emperor Nero dug out the first spadeful of earth himself, with a golden spade, and Vespasian sent him six thousand Jewish captives from Judaea to work on it.’
‘Shades of Hitler!’
‘Yes, the poor Jews have had a pretty raw deal all through history. Anyhow, the Romans were not the boys to give up lightly anything they set their hands to. They shifted thousands of tons of soil. Later, modern engineers adopted their original plan; so I’ve no doubt the Romans would have completed it if the job hadn’t had to be called off, owing to the great insurrection of Vindex.’
Ten minutes later, they pulled up in Corinth at the Ivy restaurant on the quay, and had welcome drinks, then lunched at a table outside from which they could admire the bay. After the meal, Stephanie suggested a walk round the town but Robbie shook his head.
‘There’s nothing to see here; only straight streets and second-rate shops. It was built barely a hundred years ago, after the old town up on the hill was destroyed by an earthquake
. In fact not much of this one is even that old, as it was wrecked by another earthquake in 1928.’
As the great heats had not yet come, they decided to push on with the longer part of their journey, for which the road lay nearly the whole way along the south shore of the Gulf of Corinth. For a while they were almost silent, then Stephanie asked: ‘Why have you selected Patras as our first stop? It’s a rather dirty, modern port, and as far as I know there is nothing of archaeological interest within miles.’
For a moment Robbie was as completely floored as if someone had tripped him up without warning. It had never occurred to him that he should provide an explanation of his choice, to make his cover stick.
‘Oh, well … you see …’ he floundered. ‘It’s like this, er …’ Then, suddenly, his visit to Luke’s office came back to him, and he hurried on: ‘This isn’t altogether a pleasure trip. I am associated with a business firm, and they have given me a few odd jobs to do in various places.’
‘What sort of business are you in?’
‘Er … oil,’ Robbie admitted, a shade reluctantly.
‘Do you mean that you sell petrol to garages, and that sort of thing?’
‘No, oh no. It’s just that I have to show my company’s flag here and there, and make a few enquiries. There’s another reason for my going to Patras, though,’ he added, memory having suddenly come to his aid. ‘Just across the head of the gulf lie the ruins of Calydon and Pleuron, and I’d very much like to see them.’
‘If we’re going to cross the gulf, I take it, then, that our next stop will be Delphi?’ she remarked.
He shot her an uneasy glance. Nothing would have delighted him more than to spend a few days at Delphi, but unfortunately it was many miles from any of the sites at which the Czechs were scheduled to operate; so he replied rather lamely: ‘No, I hadn’t planned to go to Delphi. You see, there are, er … lots more interesting places.’
Mayhem in Greece Page 20
