Read Online The Song of Orpheus by Tracy Barrett - Free Book Online
Authors: Tracy Barrett
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Kleobis offered. He went to the barn but came back almost immediately. “The oxen haven’t returned from the field yet,” he said. “But don’t worry, Mother. Surely they’ll be here soon.”
At first, Kydippe wasn’t concerned. True, the temple was five miles away and the oxen had been plowing all morning, but they were powerful. They had enough strength to get Kydippe to the Heraion in plenty of time to participate in the sacrifice and the other rituals planned for that day.
But time passed, and the oxen didn’t appear. Both boys went out to look for them, but the fields were large and the oxen were nowhere to be seen. The priestess paced up and down, worry spreading across her face.
Her sons drew aside to confer. “Do you think she can walk all the way to the temple?” Kleobis asked.
Biton shook his head. “Not dressed in her finery.” They imagined their mother’s face streaked with sweat, making her eyeliner run and her reddened cheeks smudge. The other priestesses would be appalled, and Kydippe would be mortified. Besides, it would be dishonorable for a priestess to arrive on foot like a common person.
Kleobis looked at the wagon. He knew the disappointment his mother must feel at the prospect of missing the festival. Even worse would be her fear that failing to show up would anger Hera, the powerful goddess-queen. No, he couldn’t allow that. He glanced at Biton and saw from his brother’s eyes that he too was determined to get Kydippe to the festival on time.
There was only one thing to do. The boys hitched themselves to the wagon and leaned hard into the yoke. At first the wheels refused to turn, but then slowly, slowly, the brothers were able to move down the drive, until they came to a stop in front of their mother.
“Boys, you can’t pull me all the way there!” Kydippe exclaimed.
“Of course we can,” Biton said.
“Climb in, Mother,” Kleobis added. “You don’t want them to start without you!”
A servant helped Kydippe, still protesting, into the wagon, and she settled onto the seat. She had no need to use the reins or whip, of course. Kleobis and Biton pulled her over the dusty road in the hot sun, over pebbles and rocks that scraped their sandaled feet, until they reached the Heraion.
The priestesses were just about to go ahead with the ceremony, even with one of their number missing. Only once their mother had been safely escorted to the sacred area did Kleobis and Biton allow themselves to be unhitched from the wagon and take a drink of water. As the sacrifices and prayers began, everyone exclaimed at their strength, and even more, at their love for their mother and their piety.
When all the rituals had been performed and the feast had ended, the worshippers settled down in the temple for the night. Kydippe looked at her two boys, deep in exhausted sleep. They were so handsome, so young, so full of strength, and so dutiful. Everyone admired what they had done, and other women were already telling their own sons to be as good and as pious as Kleobis and Biton.
Quietly, Kydippe stood before the altar of the goddess and said a prayer from her full heart: “Dearest Hera, goddess-queen, ruler of the heavens, you too are a mother. You know how I love these boys, and how they have honored both you and me by what they did today.
“Please, Hera, give my sons the greatest gift a mortal can receive. I don’t know what that gift might be. I leave it to you to reward them suitably.”
The next morning, the plowman who worked for them led the oxen to the temple. He apologized for losing track of the time the day before and hitched the oxen to the wagon. After Kydippe had been helped aboard, she sent the plowman to wake her sons. They must be tired and sore, their feet cut and bruised. They would ride, too; the strong beasts wouldn’t notice their weight.
But when the plowman ran back from the temple, his face was as white as Kydippe’s had been during the ceremony. “Your
At first, Kydippe wasn’t concerned. True, the temple was five miles away and the oxen had been plowing all morning, but they were powerful. They had enough strength to get Kydippe to the Heraion in plenty of time to participate in the sacrifice and the other rituals planned for that day.
But time passed, and the oxen didn’t appear. Both boys went out to look for them, but the fields were large and the oxen were nowhere to be seen. The priestess paced up and down, worry spreading across her face.
Her sons drew aside to confer. “Do you think she can walk all the way to the temple?” Kleobis asked.
Biton shook his head. “Not dressed in her finery.” They imagined their mother’s face streaked with sweat, making her eyeliner run and her reddened cheeks smudge. The other priestesses would be appalled, and Kydippe would be mortified. Besides, it would be dishonorable for a priestess to arrive on foot like a common person.
Kleobis looked at the wagon. He knew the disappointment his mother must feel at the prospect of missing the festival. Even worse would be her fear that failing to show up would anger Hera, the powerful goddess-queen. No, he couldn’t allow that. He glanced at Biton and saw from his brother’s eyes that he too was determined to get Kydippe to the festival on time.
There was only one thing to do. The boys hitched themselves to the wagon and leaned hard into the yoke. At first the wheels refused to turn, but then slowly, slowly, the brothers were able to move down the drive, until they came to a stop in front of their mother.
“Boys, you can’t pull me all the way there!” Kydippe exclaimed.
“Of course we can,” Biton said.
“Climb in, Mother,” Kleobis added. “You don’t want them to start without you!”
A servant helped Kydippe, still protesting, into the wagon, and she settled onto the seat. She had no need to use the reins or whip, of course. Kleobis and Biton pulled her over the dusty road in the hot sun, over pebbles and rocks that scraped their sandaled feet, until they reached the Heraion.
The priestesses were just about to go ahead with the ceremony, even with one of their number missing. Only once their mother had been safely escorted to the sacred area did Kleobis and Biton allow themselves to be unhitched from the wagon and take a drink of water. As the sacrifices and prayers began, everyone exclaimed at their strength, and even more, at their love for their mother and their piety.
When all the rituals had been performed and the feast had ended, the worshippers settled down in the temple for the night. Kydippe looked at her two boys, deep in exhausted sleep. They were so handsome, so young, so full of strength, and so dutiful. Everyone admired what they had done, and other women were already telling their own sons to be as good and as pious as Kleobis and Biton.
Quietly, Kydippe stood before the altar of the goddess and said a prayer from her full heart: “Dearest Hera, goddess-queen, ruler of the heavens, you too are a mother. You know how I love these boys, and how they have honored both you and me by what they did today.
“Please, Hera, give my sons the greatest gift a mortal can receive. I don’t know what that gift might be. I leave it to you to reward them suitably.”
The next morning, the plowman who worked for them led the oxen to the temple. He apologized for losing track of the time the day before and hitched the oxen to the wagon. After Kydippe had been helped aboard, she sent the plowman to wake her sons. They must be tired and sore, their feet cut and bruised. They would ride, too; the strong beasts wouldn’t notice their weight.
But when the plowman ran back from the temple, his face was as white as Kydippe’s had been during the ceremony. “Your
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