Demeter's Love (4)
Greece has what is known as a Mediterranean climate.
In other words, summer is the fallow season, and the staple crop of wheat cannot be harvested.
That is precisely why Greece conjures images of olives, grapes, and cork trees—and why transhumance meant driving livestock up into the mountains for the summer and bringing them back down to the plains in winter to feed on hay. Even in antiquity they had worked out their own ways of surviving, and a great many myths grew up around those practices.
One of them is especially well known to us all…
The tale of Persephone being abducted by Hades and dragged down into the Underworld.
Hades fell in love at first sight, forcibly carried her off, and then tricked her into marriage. As everyone knows, Persephone is bound by a promise that forces her to spend part of every year in the realm below. When, according to that pact with Hades, she descends underground, Demeter loses all her strength and a barren season settles over the earth. That sorrowful stretch of time is summer. Once it passes and Persephone returns, Demeter takes up her work again and the world grows abundant once more—a seasonal myth steeped in maternal love.
Since that myth is still playing out, it means she is still down there right now.
I quietly guessed that was why Hades had rushed off so abruptly from the last banquet, and I took in the place that appeared to be Demeter’s retreat. It was temple-like, yet thick with beautiful greenery. Flowers predominated; bees hummed vigorously as they darted about, tickling the ears. Unlike ordinary bees, however, they showed no hostility toward me and remained perfectly gentle. Farther off, two goddesses tending the blossoms noticed the day approaching while they admired the flowers, and their faces brightened at once.
The goddess beside Demeter is a face I’ve never seen before.
She was too noble in bearing to be called a mere attendant, and the place itself was unusual. Sure enough, the moment I appeared she melted into the flowers and vanished.
“Perseus? Could that be Perseus?”
While I was still staring in puzzlement at the goddess who had disappeared into the blooms, Lady Demeter herself approached. Just as I had seen her in the dream: golden hair, golden eyes, a full and motherly bosom, and an expression overflowing with maternal affection.
“Yes. I am Perseus the Second. I apologize for the foolish display I made last time.”
“My goodness, oh my… I had heard you were young, but you look even more gentle than the lamb I saw then.”
“I hope I have not arrived too late?”
“Not at all. The oracle was given only yesterday, yet you have come running so swiftly—you are faster than any man. I almost wonder how those tiny feet managed to bring you all this way.”
She bent at the waist, stroked my young cheek, and smiled with pure kindness. Lady Demeter was already famous for her gentle nature; if she was this soft, I could scarcely imagine how gentle Lady Hestia—whom I might meet someday—would prove to be.
“Were you in the middle of something? If so, I can come again later.”
“No, it’s quite all right. I was only tending the flowers with Cloris, so don’t worry.”
Cloris…
The name did not ring a bell, so I quickly opened the Wisdom Pocket and pulled the information. Goddess of flowers, spring, and abundance; known in Rome as Flora, a deity who would later claim a respectable share of worship. Fortunately she was not a problematic goddess.
“Have you already met Dionysus?”
“Yes. I explained the present situation to him, and he left this forest.”
“Oh my, he could have stayed a little longer. Why rush off so suddenly?”
“He is a lover of freedom. Wishing him a journey free of inconvenience or hindrance will make him happier still.”
“Hee-hee, that is true enough. He was never a god one could keep cooped up in a place like this.”
Demeter laughed softly, saying she had received a great deal of help from him. Even without Persephone she still knew how to smile—yet there was no strength in that smile.
“I expected as much, but you do look drained.”
“Do I?”
“Very much so.”
“I hadn’t meant to let it show…”
Demeter swayed her grain-gold hair and led me inside the temple. Because no human foot ever reached this place, the temple itself was simple; most of what filled it were tools for cultivating flowers and the bare necessities of daily life.
“Unlike my temple across the sea, this one was built in haste… so it is rather plain, isn’t it?”
“Great goddess who rules this earth. This is a place where you yourself have gathered only what you need at the moment. To call it plain is far too harsh and self-deprecating. I understand you feel weary, but please hold a little more pride. If you look like that, even these flowers will surely wilt in sorrow.”
“You’re right… your words are true…”
In the center of the temple Demeter kindled a fire. She looked thoroughly embarrassed, brushed the back of her neck, and finally nodded.
“When Persephone is gone, tending this place and soothing my heart is my daily work. Lately I have grown somewhat used to her leaving me, yet the hollow feeling in my chest never quite disappears and it wears me down. Dionysus and Cloris took pity on me and tried to comfort me, but that does not solve the real problem—so in the end I had to call even you.”
“I have heard about Mestra. Given Lady Demeter’s nature, punishing that one must be extremely difficult. As for Lord Poseidon… there is much I could say, but I will hold my tongue on that matter.”
“Mm.”
There was a line neither of us wished to cross, so we drew it and moved on.
“Setting that aside and getting straight to the point: defeating those ruffians will not be difficult. Leave the matter to me.”
“Are you truly certain? I know you have received many blessings, yet I still worry. That a child so young should fight someone for my sake—even though I myself asked it—pains my heart…”
“Alone it might be hard, but I have companions and the tools needed to settle this affair, so please set your mind at ease. And once the matter is finished, the day when Lady Demeter regains her strength and greets Lady Persephone with a joyful smile will be my own joy. If you would show kindness to this pitiful one, I beg you not to forget those words.”
“My word! I had heard the stories, but your silver tongue leaves even Hermes trailing behind!”
“You will grow used to it soon enough.”
She stroked my bowed head with pleasure. The touch was so like Danae’s that my spirits lifted of their own accord. Flattery was second nature to me, yet being loved by someone never quite became familiar. That unfamiliarity, however, was a very pleasant thing, so I decided to finish this business cleanly and rejoice in it.
“They’re arriving just in time.”
While we spoke briefly, many footsteps sounded behind us; preparations seemed complete. Demeter started in alarm, fearing something ill, yet at the head of the sudden throng of soldiers stood Achilles and Epiphos, so they were no enemies of ours.
“Where did you bring them from?”
“I did not bring them. They are the Spartoi I received from the witch Medea. I happened to have the teeth, so I plowed a small field on the spot and called them forth.”
“From Medea, then.”
“Yes. I had been wondering what to use them for, so the timing was perfect. They are brave and know honor; they will never forgive ruffians like those.”
As if answering my words, the Spartoi born from dragon’s teeth bared their rough faces and raised a great war-cry. Their valor was no less than that of the Argo’s crew. They were clearly men worthy of being called heroes, and thanks to Medea’s processing they showed no hostility toward us—making them extremely convenient to use.
“They all look so splendid. With everything needed already prepared, I am certain that asking you for help was the right choice. If there is anything you require, speak freely. I, Demeter, wish for nothing to be lacking in your work.”
“In that case, before nightfall I would like one animal’s feather. An owl’s would be best, but if that is impossible, any creature with sharp night vision will do.”
“Do not be so modest. It is no difficult task.”
With those final words Demeter rose into the sky, looking thoroughly satisfied. She told me to wait a moment and vanished; she had surely gone up to Olympus.
What is she going all the way to Olympus to fetch?
Immediately afterward the heavens shook and a tremendous scream rang out.
“Gaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!”
It was no human cry—it was the shriek of an animal. The sound was so vast it shook heaven and earth; anyone living near the sacred grove must have heard it.
“See? Not difficult at all.”
Then Demeter descended with light steps, silver wings fluttering in her hand. Even without light they shone with such beauty that I knew at once she had plucked the feathers of a sacred beast.
“Where did you obtain those?”
“From Athena. When one thinks of owls, one thinks of her, does one not?”
“Wait… you don’t mean…”
“I do mean exactly that. These are feathers from Glaucus, the owl that is Athena’s sacred bird.”
She chuckled and confessed the shocking truth: “I plucked them rather clumsily, so it screeched quite loudly.” I never expected to receive feathers from one of the very symbols of wisdom. While I stood dumbfounded, Demeter pressed the feathers into my hands and asked me once more to handle the coming matter well.
*1) In modern Greece oranges are also famous, but they reached Europe through the Umayyad Caliphate. Mentioning oranges in the mythic age would therefore be anachronistic.
*2) Homer’s Homeric Hymn 2 to Demeter (abridged, trans. Evelyn-White, Greek epic 7th or 6th c. B.C.) claims one-quarter of the year. Opinions differ widely, so one cannot pin Persephone to an exact span. The one point on which all agree is that she descends underground when summer begins.
*3) A case similar to the earlier mistranslation of “oak.” Ancient Greece, with its Mediterranean climate, treated summer as the fallow season. Especially in an age when wheat was the staple, the dry land needed rest in summer. The myth is best understood as Persephone going below in summer, Demeter grieving, and crops therefore failing to grow. Popular imagination places the descent in winter, but as noted Greece’s winters are mild; just as “oak” was localized into “acorn tree,” comics and anime simply shifted the season to winter for easier understanding.
*4) Confusing owl and eagle-owl, the philosopher Hegel left the famous line “The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.” Athena’s sacred bird is the owl; Ovid’s Metamorphoses states that before the owl it was a crow. In the Erichthonius episode the crow that betrayed Athena’s secret was forced to yield its place to the owl Glaucus.