ancient Greece
Ghosts of Akrotiri
Greetings History-Lovers!
This week on Writing the Past, we have a special post to share with you.
This past summer, after twenty-two years, we were finally able to make a return trip to the Greek island of Santorini to visit the archaeological site of ancient Akrotiri.
It was a magical journey to a place that has not changed in thousands of years, on an island that has, in a way, changed a great deal.
Today, we want to share a bit of our adventure with you…
It is no secret that we visit Greece often. It is our other home and the place where most of our family is located. While we have our usual haunts, we do try to visit different places and islands whenever we are there.
This year, our family voted to go back to the Cyclades, that magical, swirl of rocky islands almost smack dab in the middle of the Aegean Sea. When one thinks of the Cyclades, one thinks of rocky shores dotted with whitewashed buildings with blue trim, brilliantly-clear turquoise beaches, and sunsets so beautiful they burn into your memory forever.
This group of islands set in the midst of Homer’s eternal wine-dark sea, is a place of gods and goddesses, of myth, and of legend.
When one thinks of the Cyclades, or the Greek Islands in general, it is no great surprise that the island that most often comes to mind is Santorini, and that is the island our family decided on.
When we began planning our Aegean odyssey last winter, it quickly became apparent that things had changed in the last twenty-plus years since we had last been there, mainly the prices.
The first step was to book our ferry tickets out of the ancient port of Piraeus, and herein was our first surprise. Whereas twenty years ago one could get ferry tickets to Santorini for around $40.00, we were shocked to see that the average cost now was closer to $200.00 per person!
After searching for some time, we found a better price and jumped on the tickets quickly as the ships were already selling out out. (CLICK HERE to see how we found the best deal).
Tickets in hand (plane and ferry), all that was left was to wait until summer. It was a long wait, but eventually, the time came for us to board.
When we arrived in Athena’s beautiful polis, it was in the midst of a heatwave in which temperatures hovered around 45 degrees Celsius! Let us just say that, in Athens, without air conditioning, that is hotter than Hades!
After four scorching days, it was time to board our Minoan Lines ferry at Piraeus, which we did after a tense taxi ride in which the driver seemed to be battling an army of tourists doing the exact same thing. It was as if the heat was driving everyone out of the city into the Aegean’s embrace.
Eventually, perspiring in the extreme from the outset, we found our ship, lugged our suitcases into the hold, found our seats, and settled in for the eight hour trip to our destination.
There is something special about sailing on the Aegean, a feeling one gets that is difficult to explain, but is inevitably brought about by that vast blue expanse.
Perhaps it is the fact that the Odyssey is so ingrained in our western psyche that there is an immediate sense of adventure, or even of impending danger around the next ‘corner’ of the journey? Or maybe it’s just the gentle lulling one experiences when immersed in myriad shades of blue beneath an Aegean sun.
Whatever it is that weaves a spell, as we reclined in our seats, the ship riding the waves like Poseidon’s hippocampus, we thought on the things we wanted to do during our three day sojourn on Santorini. Of course, eating as the sun set, swimming, and a bit of shopping were on the list, but top of mind for the history-lovers among us was our visit to the archaeological site of ancient Akrotiri.
For those of you who may not be familiar with the history of Santorini (or ancient ‘Thera’ or ‘Calliste’ as it was called in the ancient world), the island was part of the Minoan civilization that was based on the island of Crete. Minoan civilization is often considered the earliest in Europe, and the Minoans themselves were highly advanced and traded all over the Mediterranean. They excelled in in art and architecture, though they also manufactured weapons.
This beautiful civilization, whose influence was felt across the Mediterranean world, existed from about 3100 B.C. to roughly 1100 B.C. when they were finally overrun but the much more warlike Mycenaeans. It was in the midst of this long period of existence that Minoan civilization experienced one of the most devastating natural disasters in human history – the Minoan Eruption at Thera.
The eruption of the volcano of ancient Thera, which occurred sometime between 1600 and 1500 B.C., was catastrophic and is thought to have been one of the largest volcanic events to have ever occurred on Earth. It completely destroyed the island of Thera and the Minoan settlement of Akrotiri which was buried under layer upon layer of rock and ash. As a result of this cataclysmic eruption there were earthquakes, tsunamis, and mega-tsunamis that even destroyed parts of Minoan civilization on Crete far to the south.
The island of Thera, which was once whole, was blown to bits giving it the now-familiar crescent shaped outline we know today with the still-active volcano sleeping menacingly in the middle of the caldera.
The Minoan settlement of Akrotiri had been silenced forever after that eruption.
It is said that Akrotiri is the ‘Pompeii’ of Greece, but in reality the eruption was much worse. It is believed that the Minoan eruption at Thera was one-hundred times more powerful that the eruption of Vesuvius which destroyed Pompeii.
This ancient island of dangerous beauty was our destination as our ferry cut its way across the Aegean from the mainland, and while my mind wandered back in time to my previous visits to the island, our ship stopped at other islands en route.
Syros, Mykonos, Paros, and Naxos all teased us with their cliffs and beaches, their rocky shores surrounded by winking waves, all of them beautiful, and unique, and tempting. It is one of the joys of travelling by ship on the Aegean that one gets to see other islands along the way to your destination.
However, as Santorini came into view through the heat and sea haze, we were quickly reminded of how different it truly is from other islands.
Even approaching on a decent-sized ship, one feels small sailing up to Santorini with its red, black, and tan cliffs towering over you, topped by the whitewashed towns of Fira and Oia. You want to immediately disembark, to get to the top of the island and peer out over the world, but there is one thing that draws the attention away as you approach: the volcano.
Like a black, sleeping Titan in the midst of the deep caldera, you are acutely aware of the dark force that destroyed Akrotiri and the Minoan settlements on Thera. You are ever aware – once you find out – that the volcano is still alive.
That is something that rests at the back of your mind during your stay on this mysterious island.
As we said before, while some things on this ancient island have remained the same for thousands of years, other things on Santorini have changed a great deal. For us, this was quite evident in the costs of, well, everything!
Santorini is not an island for budget travellers, and it took some searching to find a hotel that did not cost more than the Golden Fleece. Thankfully, we succeeded in finding a welcoming roof that was centrally-located at the Nautilus Dome Hotel (CLICK HERE for a full review of this lovely hotel).
After the shock of disembarking into the chaos of Santorini’s port, we found our shuttle to the hotel and quickly got out, the car taking the long, switchback road up the cliff face to the summit.
The Nautilus Dome welcomed us with beautiful surroundings accented with bougainvillea and palms rustled by the hot Aegean breeze and views of the sea and caldera on two sides, the hilltop village of Megalochori on another, and Fira where it lay baking in the cliff-top sun on the other.
After settling into our accommodation, it was time to head into Fira town for an evening of food, wine, and browsing the shops. The next morning we were scheduled to visit the archaeological site, and we went to sleep beneath a star-pocked sky, thinking of walking the long-silent streets of Akrotiri.
When morning came, it was bright and breezy, and the heat settled on that rocky landscape early in the day. We had a hearty breakfast, gathered our gear, and set out for Akrotiri.
When visiting Santorini, some people chose to rent a car or scooter or ATV, but we have always found that the buses are very reliable, and that they get you everywhere you want to go, including the archaeological site. The fare is only about two Euros per adult, so it is also affordable.
While riding the bus through various villages, one also notices how desolate the landscape is. This island is volcanic and very little grows here other than the famous grape vines used to make Santorini’s Assyrtiko wine, something that has been done for over 3,500 years.
One notices these strange, low vines that look more like bushes everywhere one goes on the island. They fill every field and backyard and, though they are ever-present, the yield is quite low, a major factor, we were told, in the high cost of Santorini wines.
When we arrived at the bus stop outside the ticket office for Akrotiri, our eyes were met with a blinding light and radiating heat that both seemed to be amplified by the rocky landscape where natural shade is a rarity.
Fortunately for us, and perhaps unfortunately in a way, there were not many tourists heading to the archaeological site, most people opting to head from the bus stop to the nearby ‘Red Beach’ for the day.
Our footsteps, however, led us up the path to the archaeological site which is, thank the gods, covered and enclosed.
As we stepped from the blaze of Helios’ chariot outside into the dark silence of Akrotiri’s remains, a silence fell that is somewhat inexplicable.
Akrotiri is an ancient ghost town.
To visit ancient Akrotiri today is to be touched by a deep sadness. You ask yourself What happened here? though you well know the answer. You feel an affinity for the people who lived here, who shopped along those silent streets, who raised families, who ran their businesses or traded with others from across the sea.
As we walked around the perimeter of the excavations, peering down into the houses, buildings, and streets, admiring the remains of beautifully-decorated amphorae from the modern walkways, our imaginations could not help but hear the screams of the Minoans there, of men, women, and children who realized their world was coming to an end.
The sleeping Titan among them was awakening.
Unlike Pompeii however, the population of which Vesuvius destroyed so violently, so absolutely, no human remains have been found at ancient Akrotiri. Not a single body buried beneath the layers of rock and ash.
Akrotiri is a tomb without remains.
As one walks around the deserted settlement, it is something of a comfort to know that the Minoans of Akrotiri seemed to have had enough warning to be able to perform an orderly evacuation of the island before the eruption.
Whether their great sailing ships escaped the subsequent tsunamis, we do not know. Perhaps the people of Akrotiri went to the bottom of Poseidon’s sea, or perhaps they escaped to Crete, or to other friendly shores. No one knows for certain. It is one of those ancient mysteries we will never really know the answer to.
Walking around the archaeological site, after one comes to terms with the tragedy and magnitude of what happened to the island, to the settlement of Akrotiri, you then begin to notice the details of the settlement.
Akrotiri was indeed an advanced civilization. From the walkways we could see two and three-storey buildings and homes. There are the remains of toilets, and drainage systems, and sewers. There was ventilation in homes to allow for cooling during the Mediterranean summer. They had ways of keeping their food properly stored so as to preserve it.
And there was art, oh yes…
Perhaps some of the most beautiful pieces of art from the ancient world are from Minoan civilization, and from Akrotiri itself. The homes of the people of Akrotiri were richly decorated with frescoes exploding in colour, displaying plant and wildlife, the people, and their seafaring world. Many of these frescoes are on display in the new museum in the main town of Fira, and at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens.
Whether Akrotiri was the doomed civilization of ‘Atlantis’ mentioned by Plato, as some scholars have supposed, we cannot say for certain (another ancient mystery!).
What we can say for certain, however, is that the Minoan settlement of Akrotiri was part of a beautiful, advanced civilization that met a sudden and terrible end.
As we finished our walk around the archaeological site, imagining what life might have been like there, mesmerized by the beauty of a Minoan house as recreated in a short video beside that very house, a strange feeling came over us. It was something that cannot really be explained.
That silence returned, a deep and eerie silence. The hum of tourist voices and fans seemed to turn to wind blowing through the main street of Akrotiri, pushing dust through thresholds and off of windowsills where people once peered down to the street below.
Though nobody seems to have perished at Akrotiri during the eruption of Thera, it still feels like a place of ghosts.
Minoan people lived here, they loved, they laughed, they worked, they created works of art, and when life happens in a place, that leaves an imprint on that place, and on time itself.
Ancient Akrotiri is indeed a place of ghosts, but also a place of vibrant life.
We were reminded of that on our return journey there.
As we stepped back out into the bright light of day, Helios’ chariot now high in the far-blue Aegean sky, we wondered what the great Minoan eruption of Thera must have felt like for the people of Akrotiri. Certainly the gods must have been angry with them for, as history teaches us, no civilization is without fault or hubris.
Then we remembered that the Titan that destroyed the island was yet sleeping in the caldera of Santorini very near to us, and we pushed the thought away, not wanting to wake it.
Hot and overwhelmed by what we had seen, we joined the long train of people making their way to the nearby ‘Red Beach’. It was time to cool off in the sea beneath rich red volcanic cliffs, to rest and reflect in that desolate landscape now packed with masses of spendthrift tourists.
The world of the Minoans of Akrotiri, their homes, their art and artifacts, and their end still haunt us.
We may never return to Santorini, that ancient island of Thera, but we will be thinking of Akrotiri’s silent, ancient streets for years to come…
Thank you for reading.
Coming Soon!
Eagles and Dragons Publishing will be releasing a video tour of Ancient Akrotiri soon, so be sure to subscribe to our YouTube Channel so that you don’t miss it.
(Insert picture of Mug)
Inspired by ancient Akrotiri and the art of the Minoans, Eagles and Dragons Publishing has also released a limited edition mug and bag bearing one of our favourite pieces of Minoan art, the ‘Minoan Birds’.
Click the image of your choice below to visit the Eagles and Dragons Publishing AGORA on Etsy for these and other gifts for history and mythology-lovers.
If you are interested in booking a trip to Santorini, check out the ‘Travel Resources’ page on the Ancient World Travel website for deals on airfare, ferry tickets, and the highly recommended hotel, Nautilus Dome.
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VI – Epidaurus: Place of Dreams and Healing
Happy New Year, and welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.
If you missed Part V on prostitution in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part VI, we’re going to be exploring one of the most important theatrical and healing sites from the ancient world: Epidaurus.
We hope you find it interesting…
You may be wondering what a blog post about an ancient Greek theatre and sanctuary has to do with a story set in ancient Rome.
Well, let me tell you, it has a lot to do with it. Not only was the healing sanctuary at ancient Epidaurus well-known in the Roman world, but the great theatre there also plays an important role in Sincerity is a Goddess. However, not in the way you might think.
Don’t worry though, for there are no spoilers if you haven’t read the book yet.
In this post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the two faces of ancient Epidaurus – the theatre itself, and the sanctuary of Asklepios which was renowned across the ancient world for its healing…and snakes!
Let’s get into it!
Firstly, as Epidaurus is, today, famous for its well preserved odeon, and as Sincerity is a Goddess is partially a story about a theatre troupe, we’ll start with the theatre itself.
I’ve been to this site several times in the past, and I never tire of it. Some places are like that, I suppose. You can visit them again and again, and each time you do you get a different perspective that adds to your overall impression of the site.
The theatre of Epidaurus is like that.
For the history-lover in me, going there is like visiting a wise old friend. We greet each other, sit back in the sunshine, reminisce, and contemplate the world before us.
There is something comforting about going back to familiar places.
When you enter the archaeological site from the ticket booths and follow the path, you find the museum on your left, its wall lined with marble blocks covered in votive inscriptions from the sanctuary of Asklepios (more on that shortly).
I don’t know why, but every time we visit Epidaurus, I’m always drawn to the theatre first. Perhaps it is more familiar, simpler than the archaeological site of the sanctuary opposite? You walk up the steep stone steps beneath scented pine trees and then, there it is!
The theatre lies in the blinding sunlight all limestone and marble, rising up in perfect symmetry before you with the mountains beyond.
It’s always a shock to stand there and see it for the first time, this perfect titan, an ancient stage beneath a clear blue sky where the works of Euripides, Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Sophocles and so many more have entertained the masses and provoked thought in the minds of mortals for well over two thousand years.
In ancient times, one’s view from this vantage would have been partially blocked by the stage building, or scaena, but as it is today, you have a perfect view over the ruins of that building’s foundations.
The Epidaurians have a theatre within the sanctuary, in my opinion very well worth seeing. For while the Roman theatres are far superior to those anywhere else in their splendour, and the Arcadian theatre at Megalopolis is unequalled for size, what architect could seriously rival Polycleitus in symmetry and beauty? For it was Polycleitus who built both this theatre and the circular building.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.5)
The theatre of Epidaurus is considered the best-constructed and most elegant theatre of the ancient world. It was built in the 4th century B.C by the sculptor and architect, Polykleitos the Younger, who also designed the tholos in the sanctuary nearby.
The theatre sat 14,000 spectators, and every one of them could see the stage and hear every momentous word that was spoken.
As people are wont to do when visiting this theatre, I’ve stood at the centre of the stage (the orchestra), and dropped a coin so that my family and friends could hear it where they sat at the top row.
Then I speak…
It is a surreal, dreamlike experience to do so, from that orchestra, for your voice is so loud in your ears, you can’t quite grasp what is happening at first. It feels like you are speaking into a microphone, your voice amplified. But there are, of course, no electronics, just an ancient perfection of design that has set the standard for ages.
I always climb the long central isle to the top row and sit down to take it all in. It’s a long way up, but the top provides the perfect vantage point of the sanctuary and landscape surrounding Epidaurus. I love to just sit there and listen to the cicadas, take in the view, and enjoy the dry, pine-scented air.
I’ve had the privilege of seeing Gerard Dépardieu perform in Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, and Isabella Rossellini in an adaptation of Stravinsky’s Persephone in the theatre of Epidaurus. It was amazing to watch such wonderful actors giving a performance there, and it was obvious too that they were enjoying the space, the tradition they were taking part in.
The last play I saw at Epidaurus was a performance of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, a comedy in which the women of Greece withhold sex from all the men in order to put an end to the Peloponnesian War.
When you see a play at Epidaurus, the audience is also participating in an ancient tradition. How many people have gone before us, sat in those seats, laughed and wept at the drama being played out before them?
It’s difficult not to think about that when you sit in the seats of Epidaurus. Whether you are basking in the hot rays of the Mediterranean sun, or waiting for a play to begin as the sun goes down and the stars appear, Centaurus and Cygnus twinkling in the sky above, one thing is certain – you will never forget the moments that you spend there.
Next, we’re going to venture away from the theatre for a brief visit to the museum, and then on into the peace and quiet of the Sanctuary of Asklepios, a place of miracles and ancient healing that was famous across the Greek and Roman worlds.
When you enter the abode of the god
Which smells of incense, you must be pure
And thought is pure when you think with piety
This is the inscription that greeted pilgrims who passed through the propylaia, the main gate to the north, into the sanctuary of the god, Asklepios, at ancient Epidaurus.
The ancient writer, Pausanias, gives us some interesting insights…
The sacred grove of Asclepius is surrounded on all sides by boundary marks. No death or birth takes place within the enclosure. The same custom prevails also in the island of Delos. All the offerings, whether the offerer be one of the Epidaurians themselves or a stranger, are entirely consumed within the bounds.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.1)
After the glory of the ancient theatre, it feels like something of a contrast to step into the quiet realm of the sanctuary of the God of Healing. This was a place that was famous around the ancient world for the miracles of health and healing that occurred there.
But perhaps the contrast is not so great? After all, Asklepios was the son of Apollo – an interesting union of healing and art – and it could be argued that the experiences one had in the theatre and the sanctuary were both transformative and healing.
Toward the back of the sanctuary there is a small, but wonderful, site museum that is well worth a visit for the collection of architectural and everyday artifacts.
The vestibule contains cabinets filled with oil lamps, containers and phials that were used for medicines and ointments within the sanctuary, as well as surgical implements and votive offerings.
Above the cabinets and into the main room of the museum, there are reliefs and cornices from the temple of Asklepios decorated with lion heads, acanthus and meander designs, many of which still have the original paint on them.
However, in the first part of the museum are some plain-looking stele that are covered in inscriptions recording the remedies given at Epidaurus, and the miracles of healing at the sanctuary in ancient times. These inscriptions are where much of our knowledge of the sanctuary comes from.
In the main part of the museum, your eyes are drawn, once more, to the magnificent remains of the tholos and the temple of Asklepios – ornate Corinthian capitals, cornices decorated with lion heads, and the elaborately-carved roof sections of the temple’s cella, the inner sanctum.
There are statues of Athena and Asklepios that had adorned various parts of the sanctuary, and the winged Nikes that stood high above pilgrims, gazing out from the corners of the roof of the temple of Artemis, the second largest temple of the sanctuary.
I wonder if people walking through the museum realize how beautiful the statues are, the meaning they held for those who came to the sanctuary in search of help?
After one cools off in the museum, it’s time to head for the sanctuary of Asklepios just north of the museum and theatre.
Every time I’ve visited, the sanctuary itself is usually completely empty.
It seems that most visitors head for the theatre alone, some to the museum afterward, but most do not want to tough it out among the ruins of one of the most famous sanctuaries in the ancient world.
The Sanctuary of Asklepios lies on the Argolid plain, with Mt. Arachnaio and Mr. Titthion to the north. The former was said to have been a home of Zeus and Hera, and the latter, whose gentle slopes lead down to the plain, was said to have been where Asklepios was born.
To the south of the sanctuary is Mt. Kynortion, where there was a shrine to Apollo, Asklepios’ father. Farther to the south are the wooded slopes of Mt. Koryphaia, where the goddess Artemis is said to have wandered.
This is a land of myth and legend, a world of peace and healing, green and mild, dotted with springs. The sanctuary was actually called ‘the sacred grove’.
Asklepios, as a god of healing, was worshiped at Epidaurus from the 5th century B.C. to the 4th century A.D. According to archaeologist Angeliki Charitsonidou, it was the sick who turned to Asklepios, people who had lost all hope of recovery – the blind, the lame, the paralyzed, the dumb, the wounded, the sterile – all of them wanting a miracle.
But who was Asklepios?
Some believed he learned medicine from the famous centaur, Cheiron, in Thessaly. Another tale from the Homeric age makes Asklepios a mortal man, a king of Thessaly, whose sons Machaon and Podaleirios fought in the Trojan War and learned medicine from their father.
Eventually, it came to be believed that Asklepios was a demigod, born of a union between Apollo and a mortal woman. His father was also a god of healing, and prophecy and healing, in the ancient world, went hand-in-hand. The snake was a prophetic creature, and a creature of healing, so it is no wonder this animal came to be associated with Asklepios and medicine.
At Epidaurus, snakes were regarded as sacred, as a daemonic force used in healing at the sanctuary. These small, tame, blondish snakes were so revered that Roman emperors would send for them when in need. Once again, Pausanias gives us some insight:
The serpents, including a peculiar kind of a yellowish colour, are considered sacred to Asklepios, and are tame with men. These are peculiar to Epidauria, and I have noticed that other lands have their peculiar animals. For in Libya only are to be found land crocodiles at least two cubits long; from India alone are brought, among other creatures, parrots. But the big snakes that grow to more than thirty cubits, such as are found in India and in Libya, are said by the Epidaurians not to be serpents, but some other kind of creature.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.28.1)
I’ll stick with the tame blond snakes, thank you very much!
The thing about Asklepios was that he was said to know the secret of death, that he had the ability to reverse it because he was born of his own mother’s death. Zeus, as king of the gods, believed that this went against the natural order, and so he killed Asklepios with a bolt of lightning.
There are no written records of medical interventions by the priests of Epidaurus in the early centuries of its existence. The healing that occurred was only through the appearance of the god himself. However, over time the priesthood of Epidaurus began to question patients about their ailments, and prescribe routines of healing or exercise that would carry out the instructions given to pilgrims by Asklepios in the all-important dreams, the enkoimesis, which they had in the abato of the sanctuary.
It is quite a feeling to walk the grounds of the sanctuary at Epidaurus, to be in a place where people believed they had been touched or aided by a god, and actual miracles had occurred and were recorded.
Faith and the Gods are a big part of ancient history, and cannot be separated from the everyday. I’ve always found that I get much more out of a site, a better connection, when I keep that in mind. You have to remove the goggles of hindsight and modern doubt to understand the ancient world and its people.
From the museum you walk past the ruins of the hospice, or the ‘Great Lodge’, a massive square building that was 76 meters on each side, two-storied, and contained rooms around four courtyards. This is where later pilgrims and visitors to the sanctuary, and the games that were held in the stadium there, would stay.
Without a map of what you are looking at, it’s difficult to pick out the various structures. Most of the remains are rubble with only the foundations visible. This sanctuary was packed with buildings, and apart from a few bath houses, a palaestra, a gymnasium, a Roman odeion, the stadium and a large stoa, there are some ruins that one is drawn to, notably the temples.
The sanctuary of Asklepios has several temples the largest being dedicated to the God of Healing himself, within which there stood a large chryselephantine statue of Asklepios.
There were also temples to Artemis (the second largest on-site), Aphrodite, Themis, Apollo and Asklepios of Egypt (a Roman addition), and the Epidoteio which was a shrine to the divinities Hypnos (sleep), Oneiros (Dream), and Hygeia (Health). These latter divinities were key to the healing process at Epidaurus.
Ancient Epidaurus was a sacred escape where the mind, body, and soul could recuperate. It is a place of sunlight and heat, of fresh air and green trees set against a backdrop of mountains tinged with salt from the not-too-distant sea. Cicadas yammer on in a bucolic frenzy, and bees and butterflies wend their way among the fallen pieces of the ancient world as your feet crunch along on the gravel pathway, past the ruins of the palaestra, gymnasium, and odeion to an intersection in the sacred precinct of the sanctuary.
Here you find the temple of Artemis to your right as you face the ruins of what was the magnificent temple of Asklepios to the north. You can see the foundations, the steps leading up.
The image of Asklepios is, in size, half as big as the Olympian Zeus at Athens, and is made of ivory and gold. An inscription tells us that the artist was Thrasymedes, a Parian, son of Arignotus. The god is sitting on a seat grasping a staff; the other hand he is holding above the head of the serpent; there is also a figure of a dog lying by his side. On the seat are wrought in relief the exploits of Argive heroes, that of Bellerophon against the Chimaera, and Perseus, who has cut off the head of Medusa.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, Book 2.27.2)
It is interesting that in a place where dreams were part of healing, the images carved on the seat of Asklepios portray some of the greatest heroes fighting and defeating their own ‘monsters’.
How many people in need had walked, limped or crawled up those steps seeking the god’s favour.
On your left you see a large, flat area of worn marble that was once the great altar of Apollo where pilgrims made blood sacrifices to Apollo and Asklepios in the form of oxen or cockerels, or bloodless offerings like fruit, flowers, or money.
Standing there, you can imagine the scene – smoke wafting out of the surrounding temples with the strong smell of incense, the slow drip of blood down the sides of the great altar, the tender laying of herbs and flowers upon the white marble, all in the hopes of healing.
As people would have stood at the great altar, they would have seen one of the key structures of the sanctuary beyond it, just to the west – the tholos.
The tholos was a round temple that was believed to be the dwelling place of Asklepios himself. It was here that, after a ritual purification with water from the sanctuary, that pilgrims underwent some sort of religious ordeal underground in the narrow corridors of a labyrinth that lay beneath the floor of the tholos’ cella, the inner sanctum.
After their ritual ordeal, pilgrims would be led to the abato, a long rectangular building to the north of the tholos and temple of Asklepios.
The abato is where pilgrims’ souls would be tested by way of the enkoimesis, a curative dream that they had while spending the night in the abato.
Miracles happened in this place, and there are over 70 recorded inscriptions that have survived which detail some of them – mute children suddenly being able to speak, sterile women conceiving after their visit to sanctuary, a boy covered in blemishes that went away after carrying out the treatment given to him by Asklepios in a dream. There are many such stories that have survived, and probably many that we do not know of.
As you stand in the abato, careful not to step on any snakes that may be hiding along the base of the walls, it’s a time to reflect on the examples of healing on the posted placard. It seemed that the common thread to all the dreams that patients had was that Asklepios visited them in their dreams and, either touched them, or prescribed a treatment which subsequently worked.
Sleep. Dream. Health.
When I think of those divinities who were also worshiped at Epidaurus, right alongside Asklepios, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched. In fact, standing there, in that place of peace and tranquility, it seems highly likely.
The people mentioned on the votive inscriptions – those who left vases, bronzes, statues, altars, buildings and fountains as thank offerings to the god and his sanctuary for the help they received – those people were real, as real as you and me. They confronted sickness, disease, and worry, just as we do.
Today, some people turn to their chosen god for help when they are in despair. Others turn to the medical professionals whom they hope have the skill and compassion to cure them.
At ancient Epidaurus, people could get help from both gods and skilled healers, each one dependent on and respectful of the other.
This place haunts me in a way. I always think about how special this place is, how the voices of Epidaurus, its sanctuary, and its great theatre, will never die or fade.
Indeed, just as Asklepios was said to have done, this is a place that defies death and time.
It is indeed fitting that the theatre and sanctuary go together, for both are healing experiences, forcing the mortal attendees to look inward, to delve into the darker depths of their selves to observe their own trials and tribulations so that they can manage their healing.
Theatre is a transformative experience, and so it and the healing sanctuary both deserve their places beside each other, as well they do in the pages of Sincerity is a Goddess.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
New Video! – The Ancient Citadel of Tiryns
Greetings History-Lovers!
After a bit of a summer break, we’re back on the blog, and today we’ve got something exciting for you – a video premiere!
Some of you may have noticed on our social media accounts that we were fortunate enough to go back to Greece this summer. Amidst the pleasant chaos of visiting with family and friends we had not seen in over three years, we did manage to squeeze in a visit to a particularly wonderful archaeological site: Tiryns.
It had been about twenty years since the last time we visited this Mycenaean fortress of myth and legend, and so, armed with some new camera equipment (much gratitude to our Patreon patrons!), we were able to film a short tour of the citadel of ancient Tiryns!
We’re very excited to share this video with you.
It was wonderful to go back to this archaeological site, even on a day where it was 45 degrees celsius and the cicadas were so loud it was almost deafening!
Having already seen this site, we found that it was just as magical and awe-inspiring now as it was twenty years ago with the dry heat, the golden stones of the cyclopean walls, and the brilliant turquoise expanse of the Gulf of Argos before the distant mountains of the Peloponnese.
It was also good to see that the restoration work has come a very long way, allowing us access to areas we could not see previously, though the famed ‘East Galleria’ was sadly closed to our cameras.
For those who would like to learn all about the history and mythology of Tiryns, be sure to check out our previous blog post Tiryns: Mycenaean Stronghold and Place of Legend.
It is also worth noting that Tiryns is also one of the major settings in Book 4 of the Mythologia series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera, which you can check out HERE.
And so, without further ado, Eagles and Dragons Publishing presents our newest mini documentary The Ancient Citadel of Tiryns: A Short Tour.
We hope you enjoy it!
Be sure to subscribe to the Eagles and Dragons Publishing YouTube channel so that you don’t miss any new releases.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for watching.
Honouring Love: Festivals of the Goddess in Ancient Greece and Rome
It’s mid-February now, and with that comes the so-called celebration of love we know today as St. Valentine’s Day. Cards, flowers, and chocolates abound at this time of year. Hopefully there is some poetry too! But the commercialism of it all seems a little strange, doesn’t it? So much so that I know people who are holding ‘anti-Valentines’ celebrations, or ‘Galantines’ for the ladies. Can’t say as I blame them.
I wonder what Valentinus, Bishop of Terni (Interamna), the third century Roman saint for whom this modern celebration is named, would say? He was, after all, martyred in Rome, imprisoned and tortured to death in A.D. 269 and then hastily buried along the Via Flaminia on February the fourteenth. This, for trying to get the emperor to embrace Christianity, or so it is said in one Medieval chronicle.
St. Valentine became associated with courtly love, and was the patron of beekeepers and epilepsy.
I’m all for courtly love, but it does feel like we’ve somewhat lost the thread on they way to the modern age.
Our capacity for love, you might say, is one of our greatest attributes as a species, and so it is well-worth celebrating more than one day of the year.
Before celebrations of St. Valentine’s martyrdom on February the fourteenth, Love, the goddess, was celebrated in different ways and guises.
Today, we’re going to be taking a brief look at some of the ways Love was honoured in the worlds of ancient Greece and Rome.
There is a lot we do not know of religious practices in the ancient world. Oftentimes, sources are scanty and there was a lot of regional variation when it came to traditions and honouring the various epithets of gods or goddesses.
The Goddess of Love is no different.
I will sing of stately Aphrodite, gold-crowned and beautiful, whose dominion is the walled cities of all sea-set Cyprus. There the moist breath of the western wind wafted her over the waves of the loud-moaning sea in soft foam, and there the gold-filleted Hours welcomed her joyously. They clothed her with heavenly garments: on her head they put a fine, well-wrought crown of gold, and in her pierced ears they hung ornaments of orichalc and precious gold, and adorned her with golden necklaces over her soft neck and snow-white breasts, jewels which the gold-filleted Hours wear themselves whenever they go to their father’s house to join the lovely dances of the gods. And when they had fully decked her, they brought her to the gods, who welcomed her when they saw her, giving her their hands. Each one of them prayed that he might lead her home to be his wedded wife, so greatly were they amazed at the beauty of violet-crowned Cytherea.
(Homeric Hymn 6, To Aphrodite)
When it comes to love in the world of ancient Greece, there was none other than the Olympian goddess of Love, Beauty, and Fertility: Aphrodite.
She was the epitome of beauty and desire and was worshipped throughout the Greek world, and even influenced her Roman counterpart, Venus. Some believe Aphrodite might have evolved herself from the Mesopotamian goddess of love, Ishtar. She was also associated with the Egyptian goddess, Isis.
In the Greek world, Aphrodite was mainly a goddess of sexual love, generation, and of fertility. However, she was also associated with vegetation, the sea and seafaring (due to her birth from the sea). She was the patron of prostitutes as well and was worshipped as such in ancient Corinth where there was a practice of sacred prostitution in the sanctuary. In that place, according to the Greco-Roman historian, Strabo, the temple prostitutes played a key role in any ceremonies or offerings to honour the goddess.
In Sparta, Cyprus, and the island of Cythera (a mythical birthplace of the goddess), Aphrodite was also worshipped as a goddess of war.
As with many gods and goddesses, Aphrodite had a wide array of epithets which reflected many different aspects and traditions. Apart from Love, Aphrodite was also known as Aligena (sea born), Urania (heavenly), Pandemios (popular), Area (armed for war, as consort of Ares), Kourotrophos (nurse), and Epipontia (on the sea).
Gods and goddesses often have symbols that are sacred to them as well. For Aphrodite, two things that were most often associated with her, sacred to her, were myrtle and the dove. The rose too, was sacred to her.
When it comes to specific celebrations in honour of the Goddess of Love in the Greek world, we actually know very little. What we do know with some certainty relates to the Attic festivals.
In the world of ancient Greece, some of the gods’ birthdays were actually celebrated once a month. In ancient Athens, Aphrodite’s birthday was celebrated on the fourth day of every month.
However, the main, annual festival that was held in honour of Aphrodite was the Aphrodisia.
This festival was held in several places, especially in Attica and on Cyprus, during the month of Hekatombaion (July/August). Aphrodite was also worshipped in Cythera, Sparta, Thebes, Delos, and Elis.
The Aphrodisia is specifically mentioned in the sources at Corinth and Athens where prostitutes honoured their patron goddess.
On the sacred island of Delos, the Aphrodisia apparently involved the purchase of ropes, torches and wood.
There are a few rituals around the Aphrodisia that are known to us. Firstly, it seems that temples of Aphrodite were purified with the blood of doves, the bird that was sacred to the goddess. After this, no blood sacrifices (usually male, white goats) were permitted during the festival. The preferred offerings were fire, flowers, and incense.
Celebrations of the Aphrodisia also included processions carrying images or statues of the goddess which were then washed with water. In Cyprus, one of her legendary birthplaces, initiates of the goddess’ mysteries were given salt from the sea, and bread shaped like a phallus.
Two aspects of Aphrodite indicate the different loves she represented to the Greeks. On the one hand, you had Aphrodite Urania who symbolized spiritual or celestial love. On the other hand, there was Aphrodite Pandemos. This love went beyond sex or romantic love. She represented earthly, non-spiritual love in that it was about civic and interpersonal harmony.
It is believed that the worship of Aphrodite Pandemos was begun by Theseus, King of Athens, who founded her shrine in the agora of the city. In that place, the rituals, once again, included the sacrifice of doves and the washing of the goddess’ statues, but also the coating of the temple roof with pitch and, strangely, the purchase of purple cloth.
Surprisingly, Aphrodite seems to have had fewer festivals held in her honour, compared with her fellow Olympians. However, it would be a mistake to discount this goddess, for she was beautiful and powerful, and could bring as much devastation and she could joy and pleasure. The heroes at Troy could attest to that!
Mother of Rome, delight of Gods and men,
Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars
Makest to teem the many-voyaged main
And fruitful lands- for all of living things
Through thee alone are evermore conceived,
Through thee are risen to visit the great sun-
Before thee, Goddess, and thy coming on,
Flee stormy wind and massy cloud away,
For thee the daedal Earth bears scented flowers,
For thee waters of the unvexed deep
Smile, and the hollows of the serene sky
Glow with diffused radiance for thee!
For soon as comes the springtime face of day,
And procreant gales blow from the West unbarred,
First fowls of air, smit to the heart by thee,
Foretoken thy approach, O thou Divine,
And leap the wild herds round the happy fields
Or swim the bounding torrents. Thus amain,
Seized with the spell, all creatures follow thee
Whithersoever thou walkest forth to lead,
And thence through seas and mountains and swift streams,
Through leafy homes of birds and greening plains,
Kindling the lure of love in every breast,
Thou bringest the eternal generations forth,
Kind after kind. And since ’tis thou alone
Guidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught
Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,
Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born,
Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse
Which I presume on Nature to compose
For Memmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be
Peerless in every grace at every hour-
Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words
Immortal charm. Lull to a timely rest
O’er sea and land the savage works of war,
For thou alone hast power with public peace
To aid mortality; since he who rules
The savage works of battle, powerful Mars,
How often to thy bosom flings his strength
O’ermastered by the eternal wound of love-
And there, with eyes and full throat backward thrown,
Gazing, my Goddess, open-mouthed at thee,
Pastures on love his greedy sight, his breath
Hanging upon thy lips. Him thus reclined
Fill with thy holy body, round, above!
Pour from those lips soft syllables to win
Peace for the Romans, glorious Lady, peace!
For in a season troublous to the state
Neither may I attend this task of mine
With thought untroubled, nor mid such events
The illustrious scion of the Memmian house
Neglect the civic cause.
(De Rerum Natura, Lucretius 1.1)
When it comes to the world of ancient Rome, the Goddess of Love seemed to hold more sway over the world than she might have done in ancient Greece.
In ancient Rome, Venus was not only the mother of Rome’s mythic founder, the Trojan Hero Aeneas, she was also venerated by some of the most powerful families in Rome’s history, such as the Julii, who claimed descent from her.
It is from the world of ancient Rome that some of the most beautiful words have been written about Love.
But who was the Goddess Venus, and how did she differ from her earlier, Greek counterpart?
In truth, Venus was closely aligned with Aphrodite. She even acquired the latter’s mythology such that the two became one over time.
However, before the Greek influence of Aphrodite, Venus was originally an Italic goddess of fertility, vegetable gardens, fruit, and flowers. This is not unlike the god Mars who was also, originally, a god of agriculture before he became the God of War. In Roman religion, Venus and Mars were also consorts, and came to represent the polar opposites of male and female.
Like Aphrodite, Venus too had many epithets highlighting the differing aspects of her which Romans worshipped. There was Venus Verticordia (Changer of Hearts), Venus Victrix (Venus Victorious), and Venus Genetrix (Universal Mother). There was also Venus Erycina, who was worshipped at two temples in Rome and was named after a sanctuary on Mount Eryx in Sicily. Her temples were frequented by prostitutes.
Venus Cloacina (Purifier) may have sprung from an earlier water deity, and her statue and shrine were dedicated at the end of the Sabine Wars on the spot where peace was concluded. Thereafter, ritual purifications took place there.
Venus Felix (Favourable) had one of the largest temples in Rome which was built by Hadrian. This was a large double-ended temple with two cellae opposite the Colosseum. It is known today as the temple of Venus and Rome, that is, the temple of Venus Felix and Roma Aeterna.
Venus Libertina (Venus the Freedwoman) is another epithet of the goddess, though some scholars believe this has been confused with Libentina, which means ‘pleasurable’ or ‘passionate’.
Finally, Venus Obsequens refers to ‘Indulgent’ or ‘Gracious’ Venus whose temple was built after the Samnite Wars in c. 295 B.C. at the foot of the Aventine Hill, near the Circus Maximus.
If there was something you could say about the Romans, it is that they loved their festivals. And, unlike the Greeks who seem to have honoured love with just a couple festivals (that we know of) outside her monthly birthday celebrations, the Romans had a few occasions during the year when they honoured Venus.
The biggest festival in honour of Venus, and perhaps the one that you could say is a predecessor to Valentine’s Day, is Veneralia, the festival of Venus Verticordia, the ‘Changer of Hearts’. This festival took place on the Kalends of April (April 1st) and was, supposedly, marked by expressions of love, offerings to the goddess at her shrines and temples, and the ritual washing of the statues or images of Venus herself. The temple of Venus Verticordia in Rome was apparently built in 114 B.C. to atone for the unchastity of three Vestal Virgins who broke their vows.
On April the twenty-third came the festival of Vinalia Priora to celebrate wine production. This festival was originally connected with Jupiter, the King of the Gods. However, Vinalia later came to be associated with Venus in her capacity as an agricultural deity or goddess of fertility.
Venus Victrix (Venus Victorious) was important to the Romans and, as such, she was honoured at two festivals in ancient Rome. The first on the calendar was held on the twelfth day of August. This was held from 55 B.C. when the temple of Venus Victrix, built atop the new theatre of Pompey, was dedicated by Pompey Magnus himself. Venus Victrix was also celebrated at another festival on the ninth of October.
The last major festival of Venus held in Rome was the festival of Venus Genetrix, (Universal Mother). As the divine mother of the Trojan hero, Aeneas, she was considered the ancestral mother of the Roman people, and was worshipped as such.
In ancient Rome, it seemed that not only was the goddess Venus worshipped as Goddess of Love, Beauty, and as the patron of courtesans, she was also worshipped as a bringer of victory, as a divine mother, and also in her original guise as a goddess of the land and fertility.
To the Romans, Love, it seems, had many faces.
Everyone has a different opinion of love, of what love is, its importance in the universe, the world, and in society as a whole. Love has been worshipped as something, or someone, great and earth-shattering, or as something so intimate it can only be spoken of in whispers.
In my opinion, Love makes this life worth living.
It is no coincidence that Love is the inspiration and focal point of some of humanity’s greatest artistic accomplishments, be it in poetry or prose, painting, music, or carefully-shaped marble.
The Goddess of Love, in whatever form she took, or epithet she bore, could be both terrible and beautiful beyond imagining and, as such, She was worshipped and honoured by the ancients throughout the year.
We will leave you now with the words of Ovid, one of the greatest poets of ancient Rome to write about Love…
You, who in Cupid’s roll inscribe your name,
First seek an object worthy of your flame;
Then strive, with art, your lady’s mind to gain;
And last, provide your love may long remain.
On these three precepts all my work shall move:
These are the rules and principles of love.
Before your youth with marriage is oppress’t,
Make choice of one who suits your humour best
And such a damsel drops not from the sky;
She must be sought for with a curious eye.
The wary angler, in the winding brook,
Knows what the fish, and where to bait his hook.
The fowler and the huntsman know by name
The certain haunts and harbour of their game.
So must the lover beat the likeliest grounds;
Th’ Assemblies where his quarries most abound:
Nor shall my novice wander far astray;
These rules shall put him in the ready way.
Thou shalt not fail around the continent,
As far as Perseus or as Paris went:
For Rome alone affords thee such a store,
As all the world can hardly shew thee more.
The face of heav’n with fewer stars is crown’d,
Than beauties in the Roman sphere are found.
Whether thy love is bent on blooming youth,
On dawning sweetness, in unartful truth;
Or courts the juicy joys of riper growth;
Here may’st thou find thy full desires in both:
Or if autumnal beauties please thy sight
(An age that knows to give and take delight;)
Millions of matrons, of the graver sort,
In common prudence, will not balk the sport.
In summer’s heats thou need’st but only go
To Pompey’s cool and shady portico;
Or Concord’s fane; or that proud edifice
Whose turrets near the bawdy suburbs rise;
Or to that other portico, where stands
The cruel father urging his commands.
And fifty daughters wait the time of rest,
To plunge their poniards in the bridegroom’s breast.
Or Venus‘ temple; where, on annual nights,
They mourn Adonis with Assyrian rites.
Nor shun the Jewish walk, where the foul drove
On sabbaths rest from everything but love.
Nor Isis’ temple; for that sacred whore
Makes others, what to Jove she was before;
And if the hall itself be not belied,
E’en there the cause of love is often tried;
Near it at least, or in the palace yard,
From whence the noisy combatants are heard.
The crafty counsellors, in formal gown,
There gain another’s cause, but lose their own.
Their eloquence is nonpluss’d in the suit;
And lawyers, who had words at will, are mute.
Venus from her adjoining temple smiles
To see them caught in their litigious wiles;
Grave senators lead home the youthful dame,
Returning clients when they patrons came.
But above all, the Playhouse is the place;
There’s choice of quarry in that narrow chase:
There take thy stand, and sharply looking out,
Soon may’st thou find a mistress in the rout,
For length of time or for a single bout.
The Theatres are berries for the fair;
Like ants or mole-hills thither they repair;
Like bees to hives so numerously they throng,
It may be said they to that place belong:
Thither they swarm who have the public voice;
There choose, if plenty not distracts thy choice.
To see, and to be seen, in heaps they run;
Some to undo, and some to be undone.
(Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 35)
Mythologia: A Song for the Underworld – Researching the Story of Orpheus and Eurydice
Greetings Readers and History-lovers!
Greek Mythology is vast, and the variety of the tales therein is something to be studied and enjoyed over a lifetime. No matter what a person’s age, there is always some enjoyment to be had, something to be learned.
The stories of Greek Mythology often deal with such things as consequence and revenge, the toils of the human race under the watchful eyes of the Gods, and of trying to find one’s place and purpose in the world we inhabit.
The myths also contain great stories of Love.
The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is, perhaps, one of the most romantic and tragic in the constellations of mythology that have come down to us. It is the ultimate, tragic love story, and as such it has inspired countless works of art, music, plays, operas, and literature throughout the ages.
With the Mythologia series, it is sometimes difficult to decide which myths to adapt. There are so many!
I was reminded of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice when I first listened to the song, Orpheus, by Sara Bareilles. The absolutely beautiful melody and Ms. Bareilles’ voice wove a spell, and upon hearing the phrase “Don’t you turn like Orpheus, Just stay here…”, I knew that I had to write this story.
In a way, my own version of this story began with a song.
Once I began to research this myth more fully, I became more and more engrossed in the story, curious about its impact over the ages.
There are a few primary sources from the ancient world that relate the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. For this retelling, I’ve used parts from each, having decided not to limit myself to one particular version. For this story, I’ve used elements from Euripides’ play, Alcestis, which is one of the earliest recorded tellings of the myth, and from the more fulsome versions by the Roman writers Virgil (Georgics) and Ovid (Metamorphoses). There are references to Orpheus in many other ancient sources such as Pindar (the Pythian odes), Plato (Symposium), Apollonius of Rhodes (Argonautica), Diodorus Siculus, and Pausanias.
Though the Mythologia series is fantasy, and requires a suspension of disbelief, I have still tried to include places or settings that are tied historically to Orpheus and Eurydice. The sacred spring of Hippocrene on Mount Helicon, where the Muses were said to gather, was supposedly made by Pegasus when he stomped his hoof into the rock there. The ancient author, Pausanias, tells us that there was a statue of Orpheus in that place. The ancient region of Pieria, around the base of Mount Olympus, which I have also included in the book, was said to be where the Muses lived, and perhaps where Orpheus was raised. Both Mount Helicon and Pieria were major cult centres of the Muses in ancient times.
When it comes to the entrance to the Underworld, the cape of Tainaron in the southern Peloponnese was believed by our ancient ancestors to be one of the gateways to Hades’ realm, a truly forbidding, rocky place with a sanctuary of Poseidon and, supposedly, an altar of Death.
In the story, Orpheus and Eurydice range all over the land of what we know as Greece, but Thrace in particular played a big part in the myth for it was there that Orpheus was supposed to have met Eurydice, but also where he met his end. There was a strong Orphic tradition for millennia in Thrace. In mythology and the history of ancient Greece, the landscape is as much a part of the story, and by exploring it we can truly get closer to the myths.
Traditionally, the Muse, Calliope, is Orpheus’ mother, but there are a couple of traditions around who his father was. Often it is King Oeagrus of Thrace, but then sometimes Orpheus’ father is Apollo himself. I decided to include hints at both in this story, but opted for the latter tradition since it seemed more fitting that Calliope and Apollo would be parents to the greatest musician. However, in mythology, King Oeagrus was indeed the father of the satyr, Marsyas, who did challenge Apollo. For his hubris, Apollo flayed the skin from Marsyas’ body, and there is a famous statue of the satyr in this sad state. For my version of this story, I liked the juxtaposition of having King Oeagrus as Marsyas’ father, and Apollo as Orpheus’.
When it comes to the death of Orpheus, he was torn to pieces by the Thracian Maenads, but for varying reasons. Sometimes, it is because they each wanted him for themselves and fought over him. Other times, it is because of his loyalty to the memory of Eurydice, and his refusal of anyone else. One tradition has Dionysus turn against him because Orpheus preferred to honour Helios over him. I chose a slightly different route by making the cessation of his music the reason that the Maenads turned on him. Either way, what is agreed upon is that after they slew poor Orpheus, the pieces of his body were thrown into the river Hebros and floated down to the sea, his head still singing in death. The head landed on the shores of Lesbos where the people there treated Orpheus’ remains with honour. As a result, the Muses granted the Lesbians the special gift of music and art. This is fitting, considering that Sappho, one of the greatest poets of the ancient world, was from Lesbos.
Of course, one of the central features of the myth is Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld to get back his love, Eurydice. One of my favourite challenges as an author is to write about the Underworld. How does one portray such a realm as that? One cannot fit in every detail, and accounts in ancient texts vary. No one can truly know the mysteries of the Afterlife, so conjecture is acceptable. Another attempt of mine to portray the Underworld can be found in my book, Saturnalia. I hope this particular interpretation is a just offering.
The story of Orpheus was so profound and imbued with such meaning that from it sprang one of the great mystery religions of the ancient world: Orphism.
I won’t go into the details of Orphism here. We cannot know much because it was a mystery religion, similar to the Eleusinian Mysteries.
What we do know is that the Orphic Hymns were central to its practices and beliefs, as was Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld and back. It is thought by some to be a reform of ancient Dionysian religion, with a focus on the suffering and death of Dionysus who also went to the Underworld. Humanity’s dual nature was central to the philosophy of Orphism. It also had ideas in common with Pythagoreanism, notably an ascetic life free of contamination, including rules such as a strict vegetarian diet. It is believed that Pythagoras himself was an Orphic initiate.
Orphics, as the followers of this ancient religion are known, believed in an afterlife in which they would spend eternity alongside Orpheus and other heroes. Those who were not initiated into the mysteries were reincarnated.
As always, as an author and historian, I find this oneness of myth and religion infinitely fascinating, and will explore more of this relationship in subsequent stories in the Mythologia series.
For me, however, at its heart this is a story about love, pure and simple. It is the ultimate expression of that which makes life worth living, worth risking all for.
It’s almost impossible to fully convey such love with mere words. I don’t have the skills that Orpheus himself had. But I do hope that in reading this story, some part of your heart and soul will be moved.
If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out Book III in the Mythologia series, A Song for the Underworld: The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice.
Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.
Thank you for reading.
Mythologia: From Zero to Hero – The Story of an Epic Race
Then he [Pelops] said unto him: ‘Lo now, O Poseidon, if the kind gifts of the Cyprian goddess are anywise pleasant in thine eyes, restrain Oinomaus’ bronze spear, and send me unto Elis upon a chariot exceeding swift, and give the victory to my hands. Thirteen lovers already hath Oinomaus slain, and still delayeth to give his daughter in marriage. Now a great peril does not take hold of a coward: and forasmuch as men must die, wherefore should one sit vainly in the dark through a dull and nameless age, and without lot in noble deeds? Not so, but I will dare this strife…
(Pindar, Olympian Ode 1)
Greetings lovers of ancient history and mythology!
This week on the blog, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the most important heroes of Greek myth, but one who is often overlooked in popular culture today.
We are going to be looking at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia and the events that led to the naming of the Peloponnesian peninsula after this hero.
Though the myth of Pelops may not be well-known to the average person today, it was an important part of the mythological and religious canon in the world of ancient Greece and Rome. Several ancient writers wrote about it, including Homer, Pindar, Apollonius of Rhodes, Apollodoros, Diodorus Siculus, Pausanias and Pliny the Elder. Even Sophocles and Euripides wrote plays on the subject.
One of the foundation myths of the Olympic Games relates to Pelops and involves his famous chariot race against Oinomaus, the king of Elis.
On my first visit to ancient Olympia many years ago, I discovered Pelops’ story for the first time, having been amazed that it was so important that one of the statue groups on the pediment of the great temple of Zeus was dedicated to the myth.
Subsequently, I discovered that one of the hero shrines at ancient Olympia was dedicated to this eponymous hero.
But who was Pelops, and what did he do to deserve such adulation and remembrance?
These are the questions that I wanted to explore in Wheels of Fate, Book II in the Mythologia fantasy series.
SPOILER ALERT!
If you are planning on reading Wheels of Fate, you may wish to do so before going any further as this post discussed some of the key plot points in the myth that are explored in the book.
Here is a short synopsis of the myth…
The ancient kingdom of Elis, was ruled by Oinomaus who was the son of Ares and, apparently, quite brutal. He had a daughter by the name of Hippodameia, and every suitor who came for his daughter’s hand in marriage had to try and beat him in a chariot race across what became known as the Peloponnese, or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.
Eighteen suitors had raced Oinomaus and been killed by him before Pelops laid down his challenge.
According to the legend, Pelops, a young prince from Lydia, was the son of Tantalus, the arrogant king who was punished by the Gods for his grievous sin and sent to Tartarus. After being greatly abused by his father (that’s an understatement!) Pelops was was taken in by Poseidon himself who taught him about horses. Eventually, Poseidon gave him a team of swift-footed horses so that he could race against Oinomaus.
In order to ensure that Oinomaus did not win, Hippodameia also convinced her father’s man, Myrtilus, to sabotage the chariot so that Oinomaus would crash.
After Pelops’ victory, it was said that he began the Olympic Games in thanks to Zeus for his win. Another theory is that the Olympics were begun by Pelops as funeral games for the deceased Oinomaus who died in the race, or for Myrtilus, whom Pelops killed.
Whatever the ‘truth’ about these Olympic beginnings, one thing is certain – Chariot racing and horses had a deep connection to the Olympic Games.
This is a great simplification of the story. The book, Wheels of Fate, goes into much greater detail in exploring the myth. However, this particular foundation myth points to the Games as an event to commemorate Pelops’ victory.
As far as we know, the very first event of the Olympic Games was the stade race sprint, and boxing became a part of the Olympic roster in the fourteenth Olympiad.
So when did chariot racing become a part of the Games?
It is generally agreed that chariot racing first made an appearance in the ancient Olympics during the twenty-fifth Olympiad in the year 680 B.C.
In tandem with the Olympic Games, said to be established by Pelops in this instance, Hippodameia was said to have established the Games of Hera, the Heraia, in thanks to the goddess for granting the victory as well. You can read more about the Heraia HERE.
The chariot race was the marquee event at the Olympic Games, and central to the story of Wheels of Fate, as well as our historical fantasy epic Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics.
There was much testament to this particular foundation myth around the Altis of Olympia as well, the sacred precinct at the heart of the sanctuary. As mentioned, one of the pediments from the temple of Zeus shows Oinomaus and Pelops with their chariots, on either side of Zeus, getting ready to race.
Also, in the hippodrome, the chariot racing track of Olympia, a statue of Hippodameia overlooked the track, and one of the turns called the Taraxippos, was said to be haunted by the angry ghost of Oinomaus who would spook horses as they passed. Also, one of the posts in the turns was said to be made from a beam from Oinomaus’ burnt house.
In the middle of the Altis, there was also the Pelopion, the burial mound of Pelops which became a shrine to the hero who would become the father of Atreus, and grandfather of Agamemnon and Menelaus, those well-known kings of Mycenae and Sparta who sailed to war at Troy.
There is no denying the importance of Pelops among the ranks of ancient Greek heroes, and so it was a joy to explore his life in Wheels of Fate, to explore the dark corners of his life beyond what the sources tell us.
He was a grandson of immortals, the son of a king, and the father and grandfather of some of the most powerful kings of the Greek heroic age.
And his name lives on in the land itself, the ‘Peloponnese’ or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.
If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out our epic retelling of this myth in Book II of the Mythologia series, Wheels of Fate: The Story of Pelops and Hippodameia.
If you are interested in learning more about the ancient Olympic Games, you can check out The World of Heart of Fire blog series in which we look at all of the foundation myths of the ancient Olympics (yes, there are more than one!), the original athletic events, the archeology of ancient Olympia and more. You can also join me on a video tour of the archaeological site! You can read that series of blog posts for free by CLICKING HERE.
Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.
Thank you for reading.
Mythologia: Exploring the World of Gods, Goddesses and Heroes
Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!
After a long Summer break, we’re finally back on the blog to bring you more entertaining information, topics of conversation and, of course, more books!
I hope that this post finds you all happy and safe, despite the ongoing crises plaguing our world.
During the past several months, I’ve been busy delving into worlds of gods, goddesses and heroes. What better way to get a respite from the modern world and its troubles than to explore Greek and Roman mythology?
And what an escape it has been!
I’ve always enjoyed mythology, and as I’ve grown older and begun to write my own stories, I’ve realized that it would be wonderful to retell many of these fabulous myths in a way that would allow us to get to know these gods, goddesses, and heroes on a more personal level.
The goal with the Mythologia series from Eagles and Dragons Publishing is to re-create a mythical world in which the reader can suspend all disbelief and experience these epic tales in a new and exciting way, right alongside the immortals and demigods whom we have read and heard about for ages.
This series is also a lot of fun for me to write, because anything goes. I don’t need to be constrained by historical timelines or detail as much as with other series, though I always make an effort to set the stories in their known, geographical locations. You can’t keep a good historian down! I get ideas from the seeds and scattered mentions by ancient authors in various texts, and then let my imagination run wild.
Why mythology, and why now?
That’s a tricky question. I suppose that in the last year, during this modern plague, I’ve found comfort in mythology, a resonance in the stories that has helped me to get through in some way.
This series was always intended to be an escape, an exercise in the suspension of disbelief. This past year seemed like the perfect time for that.
However, it is also worth mentioning that even though myth is comprised mostly of stories of gods, goddesses, and heroes, those stories deal with very human feelings and trials which we all face in one form or another. They are stories of love and loss, of hope and of deep fear. They are stories of jealousy, of curiosity, of wanting to belong and of wanting to be better than ourselves.
The Gods know we’ve all faced our share of challenges in the last year and a half or so. That is part of the reason for which I have gone back to the Mythologia series. It has comforted and inspired me.
I also just love mythology as a religious and storytelling tradition that has spanned ancient Greek and Roman culture. It’s the very foundation of epic storytelling in the West.
The Mythologia series can be read in any order, but the first book, Chariot of the Son, deals with the Phaethon myth.
He [Zeus] recalled the Fate [Moira] foretold a time when sea and land and heaven’s high palaces in sweeping flames should burn, and down should fall the beleaguered bastions of the universe.
(Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 252)
Why the Phaethon myth?
I forget what I was researching at the time, but I came across a description of one version of the tale and remember being really saddened by it. I felt strongly that this was a story that I could tell, a story that would be extremely moving for readers of all ages.
There are a few versions of the Phaethon myth, including Hesiod’s Theogeny of the 8th or 7th century B.C., and versions by Apollodorus and Pausanias in the second century A.D. In these, Phaethon is often the son of Eos and Kephalos.
The version that touched me the most is by the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – AD 17/18) from Book II of his work, Metamorphoses. This work is a continuous narrative of myths in fifteen books which has shaped much of our view of mythology to this day.
You can download a free version of Ovid’s Metamorphoses on the Project Gutenberg website HERE.
With Chariot of the Son, I wanted get to know the people who, unbeknownst to Phaethon, make up the family – Clymene and Helios, his parents, an Oceanid and a Titan; his sisters, the Heliades; the Titan Prometheus, and others.
Also, knowing that the story has a tragic end, I wanted to get inside this young god’s heart and mind to try and experience the reasons why he wanted so much to drive the Sun’s chariot across the heavens.
As I thought about his burning chariot and the scorching of the world that created the Sahara desert, it occurred to me that this story has some very human themes such as wanting to belong, the need for love and approval, and the urge to prove oneself.
It is also a myth that is not often explored, and so I set out to tell it as I saw it. I hope I have done this tragic tale justice.
We are, after all, reminded of Helios and Phaethon when we look up at the sun in the daytime sky, or see a picture of the burning expanse of the Sahara desert.
Perhaps what I love most about the myths is that they enable us to feel and see our world and history with wonder, and that is a precious thing.
I love this book and writing it was, quite literally, a dream-like experience.
Stepping into such an ancient world where these mythic characters experience things on a very human scale has been a wonderful experience that I hope you will enjoy.
Though the books in the Mythologia series are labelled in a specific order, they can all be read individually as stand-alone stories.
Chariot of the Son is, of course, the first book in the Mythologia series, and it is available for 0.99.
Just go to the book’s page on the website HERE. You can also go to the Buy Direct page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website to get your copy.
Stay tuned for the next post on Greek mythology in which we will take a brief look at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia.
Thank you for reading.
The World of The Blood Road – Part VII – Delphi: Visiting the Sanctuary of a God
Greetings History-Lovers!
Welcome back to The World of The Blood Road, the blog series in which we’re looking at the research into the history, people, and places behind-the-scenes of the newest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel.
If you missed the previous post on Roman Etruria, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part VII we’re going to be visiting one of the most sacred sanctuaries of the ancient world. We’re going to Delphi.
Are you ready to visit the oracle?
Let’s begin…
Just as Delphi is perhaps one of the most well-known historical sites of Greece today, it was also one of the most famous and important places in the ancient world, sacred to both Greeks and Romans.
In this post, however, we’re not going to be discussing the history of Delphi. If you would like to read about that and my own experience walking through the sanctuary, you should definitely read this previous post by CLICKING HERE.
In this seventh part of The World of The Blood Road, we’re going to walk alongside ancient pilgrims, or theopropoi, on their way to consult the Pythia, the famous oracle of Apollo at Delphi.
…the high road to Delphi becomes both steeper and more difficult for the walker. Many and different are the stories told about Delphi, and even more so about the oracle of Apollo. For they say that in the earliest times the oracular seat belonged to Earth….
…I have heard too that shepherds feeding their flocks came upon the oracle, were inspired by the vapour, and prophesied as the mouthpiece of Apollo.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 10.5.5)
People would come from all over the Greek and Roman world to consult the oracle at Delphi who spoke the words of Apollo himself, the god of art, music, healing and prophecy, common to both Greeks and Romans. More often than not, they would come from very far away to do this, but when they arrived at Delphi, they could not just step into line and wait to see the oracle in the temple. There was a process.
First of all, you had to get there, and whether you came over land from the direction of Thebes, or from the ancient port of Kirrha on the gulf of Corinth, you had to climb your way up to the god’s eyrie.
Timing was important, for the oracle was not there all day, everyday. The priests of the temple could give simple answers to simple questions by individuals regularly, but for cities seeking wisdom, or individuals with weighty questions, the Pythia herself would give her oracles once every month on the seventh day, except for the three months of winter when Apollo was said to be in the land of the Hyperboreans. During Winter, Dionysos was said to watch over Delphi.
Whenever you arrived in Delphi, you would probably have stopped at the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia to thank the gods for bringing you there safely.
This sanctuary was the sort of gateway or ‘entrance’ to the sanctuary of Apollo. It was located down the mountain from the main sanctuary, along the road from Thebes. Here, there were temples to Athena, Hygeia, Zeus and others. There were altars and a hero shrine too, all within the walled enclosure. If you were Roman, you might have recognized the statue of Hadrian looking over the sanctuary, for he loved Greece and visited Delphi twice during his reign.
This is a peaceful place, filled with whispering olive trees, birdsong, and light. In this sanctuary, the traveller could take a breath and prepare him or herself for the next stage.
Within the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, there was the larger, ‘old’ temple of Athena (built c. 510 B.C.), and the smaller ‘new’ temple of Athena (built c. 380 B.C.) where pilgrims would have made their offerings.
Today, however, the main structure that draws the eye is the tholos, the round temple that stood between the two main temples of Athena. It is not known exactly what rituals took place inside this striking temple, one theory being that its shape echoed the round huts or structures of a more ancient time. The tiled roof was accented by lion heads about the perimeter an the metopes, some of which remain, depicted the Gigantomachy (battle of the Giants) and the Amazonomachy (battle of the Amazons).
Beside the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, there also lay the long tiled roof of the Roman gymnasium, one of the more recent additions to Delphi, where Athletes participating in the Pythian Games, or travellers seeking to stay fit, might be training.
Most people, however, would have been eager to make their offerings to Apollo in the main sanctuary up the mountainside, and have their questions answered by the Pythia. However, it was not just a matter of walking in and doing so.
One had to be purified.
In the shadow of the twin peaks known as the Phaedriades, or the ’Shining Ones’, there lay the sacred spring of Castalia. The water that fed this spring came out from the Phaedriades and was used in the important purification rituals of Delphi. Even the Pythia purified herself with this water.
If one did not go through the purification, one could not enter the sanctuary which was about five hundred meters away. The line would have been long, especially if one arrived for the seventh day of the month.
Within a shaded court, there was a pool fed by lion-headed spouts. Stairs led down into the water where pilgrims washed their hands, face and hair with the sacred water. If one was guilty of homicide, however, the entire body needed to be washed in the Castilian spring.
Once a pilgrim had purified himself or herself, it was time to purchase offerings if you had not already brought some. Conveniently, there was an agora that the Romans had built, just before the entrance to the sanctuary of Apollo. Here there would have been small animals, votive sculptures, food and more available for purchase.
You might not have been able to see into the sanctuary yet, though you knew it was there, for as soon as one approached Delphi, there was a niggling feeling of awe and wonder that accompanied such proximity to this most holy place of Apollo’s, the place where he slew the great Python and where, ever since, heroes, kings and countries had come for his wisdom.
Once you stepped through the main gate into the sanctuary, the flow of people would have led you on.
As one walked along the Sacred Way of Delphi, one would have been struck by the amount of artworks, monuments and votive offerings along the way. It would have been like walking through a filled museum for the modern traveller, which is fitting as Apollo was the leader of the Muses.
The first thing one would have seen are various statues groups that included the Bronze Bull of the Corkyrans, thirty-seven statues of the Spartan admirals, and votive statues of the Arcadians. These lined the road on both sides, and were followed by statues created by the famed sculptor, Phidias, to commemorate the Athenian victory over the Persians at Marathon.
One could have taken shelter in the shade next at the small stoa that was there alongside the votive statues of the Argive kings which were across from the wooden horse of Troy, and the statue group of the famous Seven against Thebes.
Perhaps some travellers would have stopped to look at all of the works of art, to feel the connection to an ancient past. If one was Roman, perhaps one might have felt a bit more out of place, like an intruder, or invader, there to seek the wisdom of the god you shared with the Greeks walking beside you?
The road then widened, and perhaps the crowd walking up the mountain to the main temple spread out. Next, where the road began to switch back on its way up, one came to the various treasuries where cities from across the Greek world kept riches, offerings and trophies. The treasuries of the Thebans, Beotians and Poteideans were there, squat stone structures with tiled rooftops, their doors either open to their respective citizens, or barred to outsiders.
Between the latter two treasuries was a reminder of where one was in that moment, for there was the enormous, carved omphalos stone, the ‘navel’ that told one Delphi was the centre of the world.
Then came the grand treasury of Athens with its beautiful facade and metopes depicting the deeds of Theseus and Herakles. There were banners, enemy armour and more adorning the outer steps, and riches filling the interior, there since it was dedicated to the victory at Marathon. Perhaps some were weather-worn, or perhaps Rome had already taken some, but it was nonetheless impressive, right down to the text inscribed upon the outer walls.
Continuing along the Sacred Way, one passed the bouleuterion, the Delphic council house, and the treasuries of the Syracusans and Megarians as well as other monuments and altars.
If one was nervous about approaching the god with one’s question, one might have had to pause at what was seen next. In the shadow of the long temple of Apollo, which now stood above you on the next terrace, one now stood before two rocks: the rock of Leto, where Apollo slew the great Python, and the rock of the Sibyl, where the first oracle spoke Apollo’s words to the world.
What must it have been like for an ancient pilgrim to stand there, further unnerved by the gaze of the Naxian Sphinx on its ten meter column, looking down on you! Did the sound of the crowds fall away as you contemplated your purpose in being there? Could you hear the roar of the Python as Apollo loosed his arrows?
The experience was, no doubt, different for everyone.
Past the treasury of the Corinthians and the Delphic prytaneion, the magistrates’ hall, one then mounted the Tarentine stairs beneath the great golden tripod with its thick serpent columns, a battle-offering for the Greek victory over the Persians at Plataea. To your right you would have seen another area with various large columns and votive statues of the kings Attalos and Eumenes, the stoa of Attalos which had two levels, and where people gathered to rest or talk in the shade.
This area was also dominated by the golden chariot of Helios, offered to Apollo by the Rhodians.
But your eyes would now have been drawn inexorably to your left where the colossal statue of Apollo with his lyre, and of the goddess Athena atop a soaring bronze palm stood before the temple of Apollo itself.
If it was the seventh day of the month, then perhaps it was difficult to move in the crowd of pilgrims awaiting their turn make their offerings upon the great altar of the Chians which faced the temple entrance.
Would you have been frustrated to see those with promanteia – the right to see the oracle first – skip the line? These included the Delphians themselves, as well as people from Chios and some other places. If you were there, in Delphi, no doubt your questions were pressing, but there was plenty to see and do while you waited for your turn.
Looking out over the mountainside, down toward the South, the sun would have warmed your face as you gazed down on the valley of sacred, silver-leafed olive groves to the sea beyond. The sound of cicadas and birdsong might have been matched only by the hum of the gathered pilgrims.
If you still had to wait your turn to enter the temple, you could have walked up to the next terrace, above the temple, passed various columns and monuments, including the shrine to Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. Then, to more shrines and monuments until you paused before the great bronze charioteer, and the bronze statue group of the lion hunt of Alexander the Great, dedicated by his general Crateros.
Up the hill there was another enclosure that included the rock of Kronos and the meeting hall of the Cnidians, but you had no need to go there, for you were drawn by the sound of music coming from the great theatre of Delphi which rose up the mountainside to your right. Perhaps musicians were practicing for the coming Pythian Games, or perhaps a lone poet was practising his recitation before an empty theatre, a solo offering to the ears of Apollo himself?
Along the path from the top of the theatre, on into the pine-scented air of Parnassus, the stadium stretches away. Athletes are training there, running, throwing the discuss, testing their strength and skill against each other. Or perhaps they are sitting in the sun gazing up at the trees and rocky slopes above?
You think about going to watch, but then your name is called. It is your turn to see the oracle.
The temple of Apollo is the focus of the entire sanctuary. It is the home of the god. As one approaches it, perhaps one feels nervous anticipation? You are, after all, going to step into the presence of Apollo. You don’t want to get things wrong either, for then your journey might be wasted.
After you have cleansed yourself with Castalian water, you might walk up to the altar before the temple to make your offering of pelanon, the honeyed bread that all pilgrims give. You would give money too, the amount dependent upon your financial state. And then, you would offer a goat, the preferred blood offering. This act would have awoken a sense of morality in you, and you pray that when the cold water is poured over the animal, it shivers a suitable amount, for if it does not, then there will be no prophecy for you.
Once your offering have been made and accepted, you are told by the priests that you may make your way into the temple.
The time has come.
First you pass through a small forest of columns and the pronaos of the temple where the words of Delphi’s famous maxims arrest you.
‘Know thyself’
‘Nothing in excess’
‘Surety brings ruin’
Do you doubt yourself as you step into the temple? Are you guilty of the hubris the Gods so despise in mortals?
How many people turned away at this point, unable to step further?
You can read all about the Delphic Maxims by CLICKING HERE.
But you step into the temple, as sure of yourself as you can be, and your eyes are treated to some of the most beautiful works of art you have seen, frescoes, votive objects such as musical instruments, kraters, gilded tables, chariots, weapons, crowns and more, all offered to Apollo. There is even the iron throne that was where the great epinikion poet, Pindar, sat when he recited his words to Apollo at Delphi.
And that saying, in these fortunate circumstances, brings the belief that from now on this city will be renowned for garlands and horses, and its name will be spoken amid harmonious festivities. Phoebus, lord of Lycia and Delos, you who love the Castalian spring of Parnassus, may you willingly put these wishes in your thoughts, and make this a land of fine men. All the resources for the achievements of mortal excellence come from the gods; for being skillful, or having powerful arms, or an eloquent tongue. As for me, in my eagerness to praise that man, I hope that I may not be like one who hurls the bronze-cheeked javelin, which I brandish in my hand, outside the course, but that I may make a long cast, and surpass my rivals. Would that all of time may, in this way, keep his prosperity and the gift of wealth on a straight course, and bring forgetfulness of troubles. Indeed he might remember in what kind of battles of war he stood his ground with an enduring soul, when, by the gods’ devising, they found honour such as no other Greek can pluck, a proud garland of wealth.
(Pindar, Pythian 1, For Hieron of Aetna)
Beyond the piles of offerings about you, and the other maxims inscribed upon walls and plaques, there is a wood and ivory screen that separates the first room of the temple from the cella.
One of the priests ushers you through the screen, and on the other side you see the main altar where Apollo looks down upon you. At the god’s feet is the pythomantis, the eternal flame that is always tended by the Pythia and the Hestiades, the five chosen Delphic maids who continually feed the flames with fir wood from the mountainside.
The temple smells strongly of smoke, of oil and burning wood, but there is another smell you cannot discern, something slightly foul coming from a chamber beneath the cella.
Besides the Delphic maids, there are three priests of the oracle, and the five holy men descended from Deucalion, whose ark landed on Parnassus during the Great Flood.
One of the priests steps forward to ask what question you would pose to Apollo, and then he leads you, under the watchful gaze of the others, down the steps to the oracular adyton below the cella.
It is dark, lit only by the slightest of fires as you descend into the earth, a faint scent of sulphur stinging your nose. When you reach the adyton, you see the great omphalos stone, covered by the agrenon, the wool net with golden eagles upon it. There are also ancient statues of Apollo himself in wood and gold. You would observe them more closely, but then your heart is pounding and you sweat, and then you see her: the Pythia.
She sits upon a bronze tripod, above a crack in the earth, a branch of laurel in her hand, her eyes shaded by the cowl of her cloak. Upon the floor is a cistern with water from the spring of Cassiotis.
The priest speaks your question to the Pythia, there is a pause, and then she utters the words of Apollo…
…the untrod Parnassian cliffs, shining, receive the wheel of day for mortals. The smoke of dry myrtle flies to Phoebus’ roof. The woman of Delphi sits on the sacred tripod, and sings out to the Hellenes whatever Apollo cries to her. But you Delphian servants of Phoebus, go to the silver whirlpools of Castalia; come to the temple when you have bathed in its pure waters; it is good to keep your mouth holy in speech and give good words from your lips to those who wish to consult the oracle. But I will labor at the task that has been mine from childhood, with laurel boughs and sacred wreaths making pure the entrance to Phoebus’ temple, and the ground moist with drops of water; and with my bow I will chase the crowds of birds that harm the holy offerings. For as I was born without a mother and a father, I serve the temple of Phoebus…
(Euripides, Ion, Line 82)
Today, we know very little of the divination process at Delphi. Scholars continue to try and piece together a picture of the process of what happened and what was involved from a few mentions in ancient sources.
Often, answers were given in riddles, if they were not ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers. Sometimes, the oracle would give a punishment or penance such as that given to Herakles after the murder of his family.
Despite Delphi’s sacred role in the ancient world, including to the Romans, not all men of the Tiber were kind to the sanctuary of Apollo.
Sulla and Nero both stripped the sanctuary of bronze and marble statuary. However, Domitian repaired the temple of Apollo in A.D. 84, and Hadrian, a great Hellenophile, lavished gifts upon the sanctuary when he visited in A.D. 126 and 129.
Even Caracalla, who is emperor in The Blood Road, ordered the restoration of parts of the sanctuary, perhaps as atonement for the murder of his brother, Geta.
The sights described above on our virtual pilgrimage through the sanctuary are pieced together with information from the archaeological record and ancient sources such as Pausanias, Euripides and others. There are many gaps in our knowledge, especially around the actual rituals of divination.
One thing is certain, however, and that is the awe that both ancient and modern visitors to Delphi experience. Whether the sanctuary was at its peak during the Golden Age of the Classical period, or whether it lay in romantic ruin as it does today, one cannot help but feel overwhelmed by Delphi as one walks in the footsteps of millions who sought the wisdom of Apollo.
I’ve been to Delphi several times, and each time feels like the first. And after I’ve walked the sacred way, past the treasuries and empty spaces once filled by incredible works of art, I like to sit at the top of the theatre and look down over the sanctuary to the temple of Apollo and the valley of sacred olive trees far below, leading to the sea. The crowds about me disappear and all I can hear are birds, cicadas and the wind. I feel peace like nowhere else, and in that peace, if you listen closely enough, you might just hear music washing down that mountainside where Apollo made his mark on the world.
Stay tuned for Part VIII in The World of The Blood Road when we’ll be visiting Antioch, the ‘Rome of the East’.
Thank your for reading.
The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.
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