Medea - Kerry Greenwood The Delphic Women

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ever encountered light. And when I did, they say I wept, and the people said, 'Here is a true daughter of Hekate!'

      I am standing in the dark again, in the central room of my own place - no, of Hekate's temple, which was once mine, before I went with Jason. Jason the thief, the pirate, the betrayer. Jason the stranger. I have left my own gods, my own tongue, my own beliefs, for too long.'

      Now I will rejoin the Dark Mother, Scylla the Black Bitch. Hekate, Lady of Battles, Blood-drinker, she of the leather wings and coiled snakes, Mistress of Phantoms, come. Medea, once Princess of Colchis, calls. Your unfaithful daughter, fallen far from lordship and wisdom. She Who Is Met On The Way, Lady of Ghosts, I invoke you. Queen of the Dead, I invoke you. Mistress of the Triple Road, I invoke you.'

      The knife blade gleams, and I try the blade. I feel the sting as it slides along my thumb. It is very sharp.'

      I can hear the children laughing as they play.

      How did I come to this?

      The first thing I remember was the darkness in the cavern and grove dedicated to our Lady, Hekate. I must have been three, perhaps, when they took me from the arms of the king my father and brought me naked into the lightless cave.

      The priestess Trioda carried me in her arms. I was comfortable in her embrace. She was a tall, plump woman and used to children. I was my mother's murderer and my nurse was nervous of me, afraid of me, but Trioda knew what I was and held me firmly, so that I was not worried that she would drop me. She smelt of sweet scents like honey - some flower essence, perhaps - and the slightly sour smell of much-washed black garments dyed with the soot suspension the priestesses made. Her hair was already white and tickled my face.

      It was interesting. The grove was composed of cypresses and pines, growing so thickly together that the sun never struck the forest floor, which was carpeted with generations of pine needles; our footsteps made no noise. The dark branches crisscrossed like a loom, precise and exclusive.

      The deeper we went, the less I could hear. No birds lived or nested in the grove, and no small animals squeaked or scurried through the drift of needles. We passed into deeper and deeper shade, until we came to the mouth of the cavern. It was only visible as a blacker ellipse in the gloom.

      'Are you afraid, little Princess?' asked Trioda.

      'No,' I said. I could see nothing of which to be afraid, so far. I noticed, however, that Trioda was breathing faster. Was she afraid?

      Into the black dark, blacker than any night on earth, I was carried. I could see nothing at all. For a moment, the weight of unlight pressed on my open eyes and I felt fear rise in me, but still nothing had happened to make me afraid, so I closed my eyes and immediately felt better.

      Sound returned. I heard Trioda's feet on rock. Then we were climbing. I heard a spring trickling and Trioda's feet splashed through a small stream. I smelt cold water and rock and a flat, sour scent like the clay we used for making pots.

      We came into a great space. There was a feeling of height, although I could see nothing except the strange red flowers that were blooming in front of my tight-shut or wide-open eyes. Trioda's footsteps resounded.

      'You will come here, soon, on your own, little Princess,' she said, and echoes ran down stone walls from her voice, wounding the silence. I wriggled to be put down and she set me on the ground.

      'This is the cavern of the lady Hekate,' she instructed me, holding my hand. 'No light comes here unless we bring it at great need. Touch the wall.'

      I felt as she instructed and found gouges and marks carved into the stone.

      'By these you will be able to find your way,' she said. 'Feel. Here are two fishes. Walk along one pace and you will feel three fishes.'

      It was three paces for me, but she was right; though the marks were almost as high as I could stretch.

      'Then four fishes, then five. Now, if you are lost, stand still, calm your mind, and trace the picture. The cavern is fifteen paces across. The night is the goddess' gift, Medea. The world of light is busy, confusing and loud. Here in the womb of the goddess it is always silent, always dark, so that you may hear your thoughts and strengthen your mind. In the night lies peace and wisdom, remember that.'

      I nodded, realised that she could not see me, and said, 'Yes, Lady.'

      'You are not afraid?'

      'No, Lady,' I said truthfully. I thought that she gave a small laugh, though there was nothing to laugh at.

      'Step away from me,' she said. 'This is what I brought you here to know, Medea. The goddess is here.'

      I let go of her hand and took several steps into the middle of the cavern.

      Then I felt what she meant. The darkness pressed on me, negating the sense I relied on - sight. I could see nothing at all. Fear flooded through me and I whimpered, feeling for her hand. There was no one there and I almost screamed with terror. The darkness might be thronged with ghosts, the beloved dead strangely transformed by death into fanged shadows, their clawed hands reaching for me, hungry for my blood, as my nurses' stories told. I listened for them and realised that I could not hear them if they were there - they were ghosts and ghosts move without sound. My skin crawled with anticipation of their contaminated touch. I put up both hands to cover my neck, where my blood beat close to the skin, and waited for the penetration of a tooth, the slimy grave-mired clutch as the phantoms seized their prey. I cried to Trioda and she did not answer. I was alone in the pit. As she had told me I must, I called on Hekate, mistress of phantoms.

      Lady of the Crossroads,

      One who is met on the road,

      Evoe, Lady of Three Faces, aid me.

      Queen of the Lost,

      Queen of Dark Knowledge,

      She Who Turns, guide thy supplicant.

      Lady of Changes,

      Mistress of the Underworld,

      Help one who fears.

      The invocation echoed and boomed in the high cave and I heard a rush of wings, though I saw nothing at all.

      Then, suddenly, I was calm. I was shaking and sobbing, but I was calm. I wiped my face with the hem of my tunic and took a deep breath. Then I took a step, then another, sweeping the air with my hands until I touched the wall and stretched up to find the carvings.

      Two fish. I walked three paces along the wall and found three fish.

      Even if Trioda had gone - even if Trioda had never existed, I could find my way out. I chuckled. The sound ran down the walls as if hundreds of ancestral Colchian princesses were pleased at my progress.

      Then, my other senses sharpened, I heard Trioda breathing, smelt the black dye and flower scent, and took her hand. She lifted me into a close embrace. Her heart was beating hard under my cheek.

      We walked along, tracing the fishes, until we came out of the cave into the grove. The light was strong and my eyes streamed tears.

      Trioda did not speak until we were out of the trees and into the beech forest which lined the king's road to the palace, then she sat me down on a rock and said solemnly, 'Princess, you have done well. The goddess has accepted you. You will never in your life be so frightened again.'

      I did not believe her, but I was glad that she was pleased.

      We came out of the Black Land, or that is what they said - Colchis was, they told me, an island of civilisation amongst the warring clans of the barbarian Scyths. I only saw the Scythians when we held the four great markets of the year. They came in wagons or riding on their shaggy horses. I found them magnificent and exotic, the women riding knee-to-knee with the men, all dressed alike in trousers and tight, brightly embroidered jackets over linen shirts. I remember my sister Chalkiope, veiled against the sun to protect her white skin, watching from behind a potter's stall as they rode in. I had never seen such people. They were shaggy, jingling with gold ornaments, and they stank of horses and curdled milk. The men favoured massive moustaches

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