'Think then of such a man as you must often have seen in the city. He is a potter, we will say. He is also the father of a daughter much like yourself, the husband of such a woman as you shall be, and the son of another. When our men march to war, he takes up his helmet, his hoplon, and his spear; he is a shieldman. Now answer this riddle for me. Which is he? Shieldman, son, husband, father, or potter?' 'He's all of them,' the child said. 'Then how will you address him when you speak to him? Assuming you do not know his name?' The child was silent.
'You will address him according to the place in which you and he find yourselves and the need you have for him, will you not? If you meet him on the drill field, you will say, 'Shieldman.' In his shop, you will say, 'Potter, how much for this dish?'
'You see, my dear, there are many gods, but not so many as ignorant people suppose. So with your goddess, whom you call the Lady of the Swine. When we wish her to bless our fields, we call her the Grain Goddess. But when we think of her as the mother of all the things that spring from the soil, trees as well as barley, wild beasts as well as tame, Great Mother.'
The child said, 'I think they ought to tell us their names.'
'They have many. That is one of the things I would like to teach you, if I can. Were you to go to Riverland, as I went once, you would find the Great Mother there, though the People of the River do not speak of her as we do. A god-or a goddess-must have a name suitable for the tongue of each nation.'
'The poet said your god was the Kid,' the child told him.
'There you have a perfect example.' The priest smiled. 'This poet of whom you speak called him the Kid when he spoke to you, and was quite correct to do so. A moment ago, I myself called him the God in the Tree, which is also correct-Why this is extraordinary! Most extraordinary!'
Turning to look where he did, I saw a man as black as the night coming toward us. He was as naked as we, but he carried a spear tipped with twisted horn.
'As I have often told the maenads and satyrs of his train, such rites as we performed yesterday bring the god nearer. Now here is such proof as to be almost miraculous. Come and sit with us, my friend.'
The black man squatted and feigned to drink.
'He wants more wine,' the child said.
'He does not speak our tongue?'
'I think he understands a little, but he never says anything. Probably somebody laughed once when he tried.'
The priest smiled again. 'You are wise beyond your years, my dear. My friend, we have no more wine. What we had was drunk last night to the honor of the god, or poured out in libations. If you wish to drink this morning, your drink must be of water.' He cupped his hand and turned it over as if pouring wine onto the ground, then pointed to the lake.
The black man nodded to show he understood but remained where he was.
'I was about to say,' the priest continued, 'when the unfathomable powers of the god produced our friend as an illustration, that our god is commonly called the King from Nysa. Do you, either of you, know where Nysa lies?'
The child and I admitted we did not.
'It is in the country of the black men, up the river of Riverland. Our god was conceived when the Descender noticed in his travels a certain Semele, a princess, daughter of the king of our own seven-gated city. We were a monarchy in those days, you see.' He cleared his throat. 'The Descender disguised himself as a king merely earthly, and visiting her father's palace as a royal guest won her, though they did not wed.'
The child shook her head sadly.
'Alas, his wife Teleia learned of it. Some say, by the by, that Teleia is also the Earth Mother and the Great Mother; though I believe that to be an error. Whether I am correct or not, Teleia disguised herself also, putting on the form of a certain old woman who had been the princess's nurse. 'Your lover is of a state more than earthly,' she told Princess Semele. 'Make him promise to reveal-;' '
A handsome man somewhat younger than the priest had joined us, bringing with him a woman whose hair was dark like other women's, but whose eyes were like two violets. The man said, 'I don't suppose you remember me, do you, Latro?'
'No,' I said.
'I was afraid you wouldn't. I'm Pindaros, and your friend. This girl'-he nodded to the child-'is your slave, Io. And this is… ah…?'
'Hilaeira,' she said. By then my eyes had left her own, and I saw that she sought to conceal her breasts without appearing to do so. 'It's not customary to exchange names during the bacchanalia. Now it's all right. You remember me, don't you?'
I said, 'I know I slept beside you and covered you when I woke.'
Pindaros explained, 'He was struck down by the Great Mother. He forgets everything very quickly.'
'How terrible for you!' Hilaeira said, and yet I could see she was glad to learn I had forgotten what we must have done the night before.
The priest had continued to instruct Io while we three spoke among ourselves. Now he said, '-gave to the child god the form of a kid.'
Io must have been listening to us; she turned aside to whisper, 'He writes things down to remember. Master, yesterday you sat by yourself and wrote for a long time. Then this woman came to you, and you rolled up your book again.'
'Teleia, Queen of the Gods, was not deceived. With sweet herbs and clotted honey, she lured the kid away, coming at last to the isle of Naxos, where her bodyguard waited under the command of her daughter, the Lady of Thought.'
The last of the worshipers were rising now, many appearing so exhausted and ill that I wondered whether a beaten army could have looked worse. I felt I had seen such an army once; but when I tried to recall it, there was only a dead man lying beside the road and another man, with a curling beard, putting the horse-cloth on his mount.
The black man, who must soon have grown bored with what he could understand of the priest's story, had gone to the lake to drink. Now he returned and gestured for me to rise.
Indicating Pindaros, Hilaeira whispered, 'He said the child was your slave. Are you this man's?' When I did not answer she added, 'A slave can't own a slave; any slave he buys belongs to his master.'
'I don't know,' I told her. 'But I feel he's my friend.'
Pindaros said, 'It would be discourteous for us to leave while your young slave is being taught. Afterward we can go looking for the first meal.'
I motioned for the black man to sit with me, and he did.
Hilaeira asked, 'You really don't remember anything, or know whether you're slave or free? How is that possible?'
I tried to tell her. 'There is a mist behind me. Here, at the back of my head. I stepped from it when I woke beside you and went to the lake to drink and wash. Still, I think I'm a free man.'
'But the Lady of Thought,' continued the priest, 'is not called so for nothing. She's a true sophist, and like her city follows her own interests alone, counting promises and honor as nothing. Though she had helped her mother, she saved the heart of the kid from the pot and carried it to the Descender.'
He continued so for some time, his voice (like the wind)vtoying with the fresh grass, while his followers gathered about us; but I will not give the whole of his story. We must go soon, and I do not think it important.
At last he said, 'So you see, we have a particular claim upon the Kid. His mother was a princess of our seven-gated city, and it was through the blue waters of our lake-right over there-that he entered the underworld to rescue her. Yesterday you helped celebrate that rescue.' Then silence fell.
Pindaros asked, 'Are you finished?'
The priest nodded, smiling. 'There is a great deal more I could say. But little heads are like little cups, soon so full they can hold no more.'
'Then let's go.' Pindaros stood up. 'There should be some peasants around here who'll be happy enough to sell us a bite.'
'I will lead the worshipers back to the city,' the priest told him. 'If you wish to wait for us, I'll point out the
