Reincarnation (12 page)

done for her but make her feel stupid and unworthy? It was her destiny to be with
him!
Why did she let fear and duty rule her in this way?

But even as he cursed her, his heart exploded with love for his beautiful girl, his Hyacinth. He

would never give up on her.

Iphigenia stood in the doorway to Hyacinth's chamber. It was the feast of Pallas Athena, the

one day of the year

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when they would go out among the people in celebration of Athena, the guardian of their

city.

Hyacinth stood at the window, gazing out over the Acropolis. Her hair was done up in

golden cords. Her tunic was a fresh one. She was absently humming a song that Iphigenia

recognized. It was the song she sang at night to the one who had once been known as the

wild boy.

Iphigenia's eyes roamed to the gorgeous green earrings, clasped one to the other and

sitting in a ceramic dish on Hyacinth's night table. They were a gift from the wild boy --

stolen by him, no doubt. Hyacinth never wore them in the temple. It had to be that she only

wore them at night when the two of them made music together.

Nightly, Iphigenia had fallen asleep restlessly listening to that maddening song drifting

into her room.

Hyacinth played such games with that poor fellow, singing to him and yet shutting her door

on him, refusing to see him. Either she loved him or she didn't! Why did he put up with it?

And that stupid boy did not even recognize Iphigenia when he saw her. He had never

noticed her, even before, when he had come by the temple begging for food. She was

raised there, an orphan abandoned at the temple steps, raised by the priestesses. She had

been sent out to bring the beggars food, he among them. He had never even looked at her.

But she had noticed him. If he had been singing under

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her
window, desiring
her
love -- she would have been long gone from the temple.

How she hated Hyacinth. What foolish arrogance, to throw away that kind of adoration, a

love Iphigenia would have given anything to possess.

Hyacinth noticed Iphigenia and turned away from her daydreams at the window. "Is it time

to go?" she asked.

"Yes, the high priestess is ready. I've come to get you. Will you be wearing your lovely green earrings to the celebration?"

Hyacinth shook her head as she passed Iphigenia in the doorway. "Are you coming?"

"In a minute." Iphigenia waited until Hyacinth had gone down the steps to the Great Hall.

Then she scooped the earrings out of the dish.

If she could not have the wild boy's love, then she would have his token.

Pressing the earrings to her lips in a breathless, greedy kiss, she hurried away to hide them

in her chamber.

The parade to honor Athena had its finish back at the wide steps of the temple. Hyacinth

stood behind the high priestess. A statue of Athena had been paraded through the streets.

It was a third the size of the one in the Great Hall, but imposing just the same.

A sea of people had gathered in front of the temple.

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The head of the Athenian government stepped forward. "To honor Athena," he proclaimed,

"we present the winners of this year's Olympic Games."

Macar stepped forward, his medals around his neck, head high, eyes steely, self-impressed

as ever. His gaze shot up to Hyacinth on the steps. For a second their eyes met before

Macar looked away. No doubt he was ashamed at having refused to marry her after her

dowry was lost at sea. Naturally, no one blamed him.

Hyacinth shivered, recalling what a narrow escape she'd had. Marriage to Macar would have

been a loveless, dull conformity. Life as a priestess was infinitely better. She heard he'd

married and was expecting a child. His new wife was probably perfectly happy to have such

a prize for a husband. Hyacinth hoped so, anyway.

Two other medal-wearing young men followed Macar. And then came Artem, his medal in

hand.

He looked at nothing but Hyacinth. His direct gaze caused her to look away with

embarrassment, certain that everyone could see how he focused on her.

Yet it seemed that only Iphigenia was aware of it. She sent Hyacinth a darting glance which

Hyacinth dared not acknowledge.

Each winner was asked to address the crowd. When it was Artem's turn, he spoke to the

high priestess. "I would offer to Athena this Olympic gold medal and all its worth

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in the hope that I might claim your priestess Hyacinth as my bride."

The crowd gasped at the boldness of his declaration.

"I make this plea," Artem continued, "for I know she loves me but will not be mine because she would not disgrace the goddess by breaking her oath. Yet I would rather end my days

now than live without her in my life."

The high priestess stepped forward to reply. "Your plea is touching, young man, but

Hyacinth has sworn a pledge as binding as any marriage oath. I cannot accept your medal

nor release her to you."

Turning back toward the temple, she bid Hyacinth and the other priestesses to follow her in.

As she was about to enter, Hyacinth cast a glance over her shoulder. Artem stood

with his eyes boring into her.

For the first time that afternoon, the temple of Athena seemed to Hyacinth like a living

tomb. Kneeling before the immense statue, she prayed to the goddess for strength and self-

discipline. To go away with Artem would be to invite ruin not only for herself but for her

family. Oh, but the urge to do it was overpowering, especially after today.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't realize another person had come into the room

and now stood beside her. But soon she became aware of the heat and energy of that

presence. Opening her eyes, she stared up at an aged woman. Her long, wild, wiry white hair

played around her face and

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shoulders. Her milky blue eyes were unfocused as she faced Hyacinth without speaking.

Hyacinth had never seen this blind woman before, but she knew who she was by reputation

and descriptions from the other priestesses.

"You are the Oracle of Delphi," Hyacinth acknowledged in an awed whisper.

The Oracle was the great prophetess who foretold the future in words so difficult to

decipher that only the learned could tease the meanings from what she said. Hyacinth

assumed she had come to the temple because of the feast. Why, though, was she speaking

to her now?

"You know me, for we have met before," the woman's voice rumbled, emanating richly from

deep within her throat.

"No, surely not," Hyacinth dared to contradict her. "Perhaps you think I am someone else. I am Hyacinth of Athens, a new priestess of Athena."

"I know you," the Oracle said again, her voice rising in irritation.

Hyacinth cowered, scared that she had angered this powerful personage.

The Oracle lifted her arms, her wide sleeves draping. "You have been in the cave. I spied on

you in the kitchen. I will bring you to fiery ruin. The jewel is not what you think. You must

seek its meaning. If you seek me I will help you," she ranted.

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Hyacinth strained to make sense of this. She had never been in a cave. She had sometimes

been in a kitchen. At the mention of the jewel, she thought of her earrings.

"The one who comes for you with the jewel is your destiny."

Hyacinth gasped. Artem!

"The jewel will come between the two of you eternally if your heart is not pure."

"Please," Hyacinth said. "I don't understand."

"The unraveling is the journey," the Oracle replied.

Why wouldn't this woman speak plainly?! And why was she even speaking to her, someone

of so little importance?

"My words will become plain in time," the Oracle continued, apparently reading Hyacinth's thoughts. "I come to you to pay a debt. I have wronged you before. The fates have

commanded me to amend all I have wronged so that my powers might expand for the

good of all."

"Tell me. Please. Should I go off with the one I love, the one who has given me the green

jewels ?" Hyacinth asked.

"The unraveling is the journey," the Oracle of Delphi said once more. Abruptly, she turned and, navigating her way with fluid grace, left the Great Hall.

That night, the rest of Athens reveled and celebrated the holiday. Lamplight and bonfires lit

the black sky. On the Acropolis, though, low-lying clouds obliterated the moon's rays.

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Iphigenia sat on her bed examining the stolen green earrings by the light of her small

lantern. How they gleamed! Such elegance!

What a declaration he had made! And that idiot, that stupid girl, had stood there mute.
I

would have run into his arms, forsaken everything for him.
Iphigenia was certain.

And then there it was -- that flute playing once again out on the hill.

He was back! Would he return every night for all eternity?

It was maddening!

Still clutching the earrings, she stepped out onto the pitch darkness of her balcony to watch

them as she'd often done before.

The flute playing stopped.

Hyacinth's balcony was dark, empty.

She had failed to come out. Would he finally give up?

Iphigenia's mind raced. Perhaps she should go down, make her feelings for him known, and

tell him he could even call her Hyacinth if he wished. She wouldn't care -- anything to have

his love, to be taken away from this awful temple that had been her prison since childhood.

In the darkness, Iphigenia suddenly caught a sharp breath. An even blacker form was

climbing over Hyacinth's balcony, climbing down.

She was going to him!

Iphigenia stood no chance with him now. "A curse on

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you!" she spat as she hurled the green earrings over her balcony.

Hyacinth's foot ached as she searched for a foothold in the column below her balcony. It

was so dark! Where was Selene, goddess of the moon, tonight when she needed her?

Why had he stopped playing the flute?

It was so dark. She prayed he hadn't gone. But perhaps she had no right to pray, now that

she had broken her vow to Athena. Would she be cursed by the goddess for this?

Would Artem curse her as well? She was coming to him without the earrings that

represented his love. Just a moment ago, she'd heard his flute and she'd decided that she

could not go on living without him, that no price was too high to pay. She'd gone to put on

the earrings, preparing to leave with him, only to discover that they were missing!

A quick, frantic search had not produced them.

They were utterly gone.

And then the music had stopped. Rushing to the balcony, she searched the darkness but

could not see him. She could not let him leave, maybe forever.

That was when she had begun the climb down, too frantic to catch up to him to let

worry about the earrings interfere. She was not sure how she would manage, but he had

climbed up before ... which meant she could climb down.

She was two body lengths from the bottom when the clouds parted and hit the landscape

with moonlight.

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With the brilliance of a shooting star, the green earrings flew through the air, sparkling in

the white radiance of the moon.

It was a blessing from Athena! A sign that the goddess bore her no malice!

But what if Artem was down there, waiting hidden behind a tree or in a bush? What if he

thought she had tossed the earrings down as a sign that she no longer loved him?

"Artem!" she called in a soft whisper, afraid to alert the other priestesses. "Artem!" No answer came.

She saw the earrings glisten, caught in the nettles of a juniper bush at the edge of a rocky

outcropping.

Then she detected him moving below in the places not touched by moonlight. He was

going toward the earrings to retrieve them.

Still afraid to cry out to him, she judged that she could jump to the ground. She landed on

her knees and her foot throbbed where it had banged on the dirt.

He had not reached the earrings yet. She had to get there first, be waiting for him with them

glistening in her ears.

She was nearly there, reaching forward, balanced precariously over the rough juniper bush.

In her rush to retrieve the earrings, she did not see him, also hurrying in the darkness.

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He came upon her suddenly, unexpectedly, skidding to a stop.

Surprised, she stumbled back.

Her weak foot buckled and caved under her weight. Suddenly she was pitching forward

uncontrollably, tumbling down the hillside.

Tumbling, bouncing, hitting and hitting again.

She heard something snap.

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My Artem, I am so sorry. You have no idea how it pains me to see you sob. How I hoped

that at last we could be together. How I wanted to sail away, maybe to your golden Egypt,

where no one could find us. You do not hear me, so deep is your grief. You throw your body

on top of mine as you howl at the moon like a mad wolf. I am not there anymore.

I am no longer the young woman whose hair has come unbound and trails to the ground as

he carries her broken body up the steep hill to the temple of Athena.

He and Iphigenia bring her inside. The high priestess comes and cries out in alarm.

Still weeping, Artem leaves. I call out to him but he does not turn back to me.

No one speaks to me at all. Silently I watch as my dead body is washed, dressed in a new