Going Down to Trophonios
For the fifteenth time that morning Lucius sighed deeply. I glared at him.
"There's no point in being miserable, Lucius. It won't change anything."
"I know." Lucius sighed again. "I appreciate your father's offer of free passage on one of his ships. I just wish one would turn up before the wedding."
"Stop thinking about it," I ordered. "It's the only thing. Forget about her. Face it: she's going to be your father's wife and you'll have to call her 'Mother' - if you ever see her again."
Lucius sighed and slumped down on the bed again. Cartimandua looked across at him sympathetically.
"Lord, you do not know what will happen. Maybe Mysticus is not marry your father."
"Is this some sort of prophecy?" I spoke teasingly, though I was far from mocking. Ever since Cartimandua had been initiated into Paul's new religion there was something different about her and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to find her turned into a Sibyl258 .
Lucius suddenly sat up and slapped the bed, raising a cloud of dust from the coverlet.
"Prophecy! Arxes, do you remember what the priest told us that time we offered the sacrifice to the goddess?"
"No, what?"
"He said that if we wanted to know the future we should ask an oracle." Lucius jumped to his feet. "I'm off to consult an oracle."
"What? Delphi?"
Lucius shook his head.
"I doubt Apollo would trouble himself over my minor troubles. A divine hero is more what I need. Let's go and consult Trophonius259 ."
"You wouldn't dare!" I gasped. Everyone said that those who went down to Trophonius never lost the look of terror the experience gave them.
"I would!" Lucius retorted. "I'd do anything to find out if there is a future for Mysticus and me."
My father looked equally grim when Lucius put the idea to him that evening. "A visit to Trophonios is not to be undertaken lightly, lad," he said. "Are you sure you want to risk it? A ship might turn up while you're away or, if you must consult an oracle, why not one of the others? Why not Libyan Ammon260? He's always reliable. Then there's Ino, down in Sparta. All you have to do is sleep in the sanctuary261."
"I'm sure, sir. The wedding is next week and I don't know what I might do if I were in Corinth when my father marries Mysticus."
My father nodded. "Yes, I can understand that. Just be careful. Those who consult the gods don't always get the answer they want and sometimes they get more of an answer than they expected. Arxes, you'd better take Petosirus and you can have a couple of men from the farm. Petosirus can provide the brains and they can be the brawn, just in case you meet robbers262 ."
"Cartimandua can come with us and do the cooking," I suggested, but my father shook his head.
"It's up to you, Arxes. She's your girl, but I wouldn't expose a woman to the dangers of such a journey. In any case, she'd only slow you down and you ought to hurry. Winter is coming on and if you miss the ship I'm expecting there may not be another one this year."
I appreciated the wisdom of my father's advice as we toiled over the mountains of Boeotia, for although they weren't very high, the paths across them were steep and difficult. Even though the road to Lebadeia was busy, it was rough and rutted and I managed to twist my ankle on a stone jutting through the gray dust of the path and which I failed to notice. Despite this we made such good time that we were able to take a short detour to see the lion that marks the battlefield of Chaironeia263 .
We reached Lebadeia about noon on the third day of our journey and immediately climbed down into the gorge of the Herkyna River and up the other side to the Sacred Grove. There was a priest at the entrance who stood up and barred the way as we approached.
"Who comes to the Sacred Grove?" he demanded when we stopped.
"I am Arxes, son of Lycurgus, a merchant of Corinth," I told him, "and this is my friend Lucius, a Roman. We wish to consult the hero."
"And these?" The priest nodded towards Petosirus and our escort.
"They are our servants."
"They will find lodging in the town," the priest said, "for you must part from them here."
"Can't they just wait here for us?" I asked.
"For a week?"
"Does it take so long?" I demanded in surprise.
"It may take longer," the priest said. "There are two others in front of you. You will spend the time of waiting in rites of purification."
We retreated a few paces from the entrance and I divided the money my father had given me with the servants, keeping what I hoped was enough to pay for the rites the priest had mentioned. Nothing to do with the gods was cheap - unless, of course, it was Paul's God.
When the servants had gone back down into the gorge, Lucius and I returned to the entrance and the priest received us.
"Follow me, and I will take you to the House of Good Fortune and the Good Spirit. All those who go down to Trophonios stay there, preparing themselves for what is to come. You will be bathed in the river each day by those who know the correct way to do such things. Avoid women and hot water, for these things are not acceptable to the divine Hero."
The House of Good Fortune and the Good Spirit was a cold, dark building of gray stone and though we wrapped ourselves well in our cloaks I doubt if either Lucius or I were ever really warm during the whole of our stay. The worst experience, however, was rising early in the morning, while the mist was still on the river, and bathing in its cold water.
"Brrrr!" Lucius gasped between chattering teeth as we waded ashore that first morning. "I wonder what would happen if we sneaked away into the town and warmed up in the baths there?"
"I would not advise it, young lords." The attendant who had come with us to supervise our ablutions shook his head sombrely. "The Hero is not to be mocked."
"How does he punish those who offend against his laws?" Lucius asked.
"Well, there was a soldier of Demetrios who went down to Trophonios without any rites or purifications, hoping to find treasure he could steal. He never came back."
"You mean, he's still down there?" I gasped.
The attendant shook his head. "Oh no. His body appeared down in the plain, even though there is only one way into the Hero's sanctuary. They say that there was a look of unspeakable terror on his face. No one has been bold enough to attempt sacrilege ever since."
A priest was waiting for us at the House of Good Fortune and the Good Spirit. He smiled at us and rubbed his hands together.
"Now, gentlemen, about the sacrifices. Today you must offer the first."
"Er, yes." I hesitated. "How many must we offer?"
"Well, let's see. You must sacrifice to Trophonios, of course, then to his sons. There are the gods, Apollo, Kronos and Zeus the King. You must also sacrifice to Hera the Charioteer and we mustn't forget Trophonios' nurse Demeter - Demeter Europa."
"Seven sacrifices!" I instinctively felt for my wallet, wondering how much this was all going to cost.
"Fourteen," the priest corrected me. "Seven for each of you."
"Can't we offer jointly?" Lucius interrupted.
The priest shook his head. "I'm afraid not. At each sacrifice an augur examines the entrails to see whether the Hero is ready to receive the sacrificer in a gracious manner. You go down as individuals and therefore you must sacrifice as individuals."
"How much will this all cost?" I demanded.
"Not as much as you might think," the priest permitted himself to smile. "Once the animal has been sacrificed and the proper portion given to the gods, the rest is sent to the kitchens, so you will have plenty of meat to eat - at no extra charge. Bear that it mind."
Despite that thought, it was still a wrench to part with so much money and once again I couldn't help but contrast the high price our gods demanded with Paul's rejection of all payment except what was freely given. That was how the gods ought to be served!
The expert who examined the entrails of our sacrifices assured us that they were favourable, but not sufficiently so yet to venture into the cave where the divine inspiration manifested itself.
"Still, by these signs I am confident that soon Trophonios will look with even greater favour on you, and you will be able to approach him with the boldness of youth, which is ever pleasing to such a Hero."
The week dragged by, with cold baths each morning followed by yet another sacrifice and then the rest of the day wandering around the sacred enclosure. Fortunately there were many other people there - all with petitions, though few were brave enough to wish to go down to Trophonios - and we had many pleasant conversations with them. Nearly all had a tale to tell of wonders the divine Hero had performed, either for them or for people they knew264.
On the eighth day of our stay in the sacred precinct the augur examined my sacrifice and pronounced it perfect.
"I see that your friend must wait for another day or two, but the Hero is now willing to receive you. Tonight, after the sun sets, you will be summoned for the final sacrifice."
"Another one?" I gasped.
"Indeed," the augur looked severe. "Even today it is possible that you might, albeit unwittingly, do something to offend against the gods and the laws of purity, so just before you go down to Trophonios we take the auspices one last time. It's better to be safe, wouldn't you agree?"
Well, of course I had to agree. I passed the day in a haze of happy anticipation, talking to all those who had visited the oracle and trying to find out what to expect, even though a proper piety forbade them to describe their experience in too great detail. The sun set behind the rugged hills and just as it was becoming too dark to see without torches the priest came for me.
"Say farewell to your friend," he commanded in sepulchral tones.
"See you later!" I cried exuberantly.
The priest looked disapproving. "I would be less light-hearted, if I were you. One's final words to a friend should always be solemn and grave."
"Final?" I stared at him in surprise. "But I'm going to see Lucius again in the morning, aren't I?"
"I don't know." The priest shrugged. "Those who go down to Trophonios do not know how long they will stay down there, nor if they will ever return. It is a perilous undertaking, though I can assure you that those who have been safeguarded by the proper rites - as you have been - have always returned. Often, though, they have been gone for two or three days, wandering out of their bodies in the heavenly realms265 ."
Duly admonished, I embraced Lucius more formally and gave him a few short, foolish messages for my father, my mother and for Cartimandua. I meant to tell him that he could have her if I didn't return, but somehow all I could bring myself to say was to beg him to look after her for me. That done I turned and followed the priest through the dim grove and up to the temple.
Once more a sacrifice, a ram, was offered on my behalf and in the darkness, lit only by the flickering flames on the altar, the face of the augur looked grim and mysterious. I felt a strange terror creeping up my back and held my breath as the augur bent over the victim's carcase.
"If this last sacrifice is unfavourable, then all the rest count for nothing," he muttered as with bloody hands he held the entrails up to the dim light. "Well, so far so good. Now let's look at the heart." He plunged his hands once more into the ram's carcase and dragged out the heart. "Yes . . . I think . . . yes, the omens are good. Trophonios will receive you with grace. May the gods be with you, lad."
He straightened up and at once the priest came forward, accompanied by two teenagers a couple of years younger than myself.
"Very good. These are your Hermai. You must go with them down to the Herkyna where they will wash you and anoint you. They are of pure blood, as the Hero demands."
That was the worst bath I have ever had. At least Lucius and I could get into the freezing river in sunlight and by degrees, but those boys were merciless. I gasped and shivered as they splashed copious quantities of water over me and rubbed and scrubbed every inch of my body, ending up by plunging me right under the surface. Then I had to stand shivering on the bank while they anointed me with olive oil. Instead of my warm clothes and cloak they gave me a linen tunic which was fastened with ribbons, and a pair of the heavy local boots. By then I was so cold that not even the climb back up to the temple could warm me up and my teeth were still chattering when I presented myself before the priest again.
"Excellent. Now follow me."
Instead of going up to the oracle, we went part way back down into the gorge to where a niche with a bench was cut into the rock. Just beyond this there was a small spring trickling down into the gorge.
"This is the water of Lethe," the priest declared. "It grants you forgetfulness of all that has gone before tonight. Drink, and let your mind become blank, like a clean slate."
One of the Hermai handed him a small metal goblet, which he filled with the Water of Forgetfulness and gave to me. To be honest, I was so cold by then that I can't really remember whether the water of Lethe made me forget anything at all. As soon as I had drained the goblet the priest led the way further along the path to another spring.
"Now here is the Water of Memory. Drink, so that you may remember all that will be revealed to you by the divine Hero."
Once again I drank from the goblet and then the priest dismissed the Hermai and we retraced our steps back up the path, past the temple and higher up the mountain, beyond the sacred precincts. On the way we stopped at a shrine where the priest showed me an image made by another great hero, Daidalos266. He told me a little of the story of Daidalos, most of which, of course, I already knew, and then added, "Here you should worship and offer up the petitions to which you wish to receive an answer from Trophonios."
It seemed a little strange to me, and I could well imagine what Athenodorus - or Paul for that matter - would say if they saw me praying to a statue, but I obediently offered up my prayer.
"Divine Hero, I am perplexed about the new religion preached by Paul. My slave girl has accepted it, but what should I do? Also, I am about to go to Rome on my father's business and any advice you can give me will be welcome."
"Is that all?" The priest seemed surprised.
"I think so," I told him. "I don't have any great needs. We really came for the sake of my friend Lucius."
Finally we came to the oracle itself, a circular platform of stone about five feet high and perhaps fifteen feet in diameter. Around the edge were bronze posts supporting a bronze chain, but there was an elaborate doorway at one point, where steps led up to the platform. We climbed the steps and I nearly jumped out of my skin when a man in dark clothing spoke to the priest.
"All is ready, lord."
"Good." The priest turned to me. "Are you still determined to go down to Trophonios, young man?"
By now my teeth were chattering so much that all I could do was nod.
"Very well, then. Here is what you must do. Take these two honey-cakes, one in each hand, as an acceptable offering to Trophonios. The entrance to his oracle is in the chasm beneath this platform, and the only way down is by the ladder these men have put in place for you. When you reach the bottom turn to the right and you will see - at least, you could see if there was enough light - a small opening at the bottom of the pit. Lie down on your back with your offerings in your hands and slide yourself feet first into the opening."
"And what happens then?" I managed to ask.
"That depends. You may hope for good, for the omens were favourable to you."
"But how long do I have to stay down there?"
"Trophonios himself will dismiss you. Come, the Hero awaits you."
By now I was in such a state that I hardly knew what I was doing. I stumbled over to the flimsy ladder, which vanished into a dark hole barely large enough to fit me. I stepped onto the first rung and clung to its sides as well as I could without damaging the honey-cakes. I felt it shake beneath me so much that I feared it would collapse. I took a last look around at the open air and then climbed down the ladder.
The pit into which I descended was at least twenty feet deep and a good deal wider at the bottom than at the top. It was so dark down there that I could see nothing, but a scraping noise told me that the ladder was being withdrawn. I turned to the right as I had been instructed and felt my way forward until I touched the side of the pit. I bent down, and just as the priest had said, there was a small opening about two feet wide and no more than a foot high in the rock. I lay down on my back, arranged the offerings in my hands and inserted my feet into the opening. I arched my back, pushing against my shoulders to get further into the hole.
With mind-numbing suddenness, just as my knees got inside the opening, it felt as if something grapped my boots and dragged me irresistibly through the narrow aperature. The nearest I can come to describing it is to say that it was like stepping into the strong current of a river that snatches your feet from under you. I screamed as the sides of the hole scraped my back and arms and then, with equal suddenness, I was released and crashed to the floor of the cavern, banging my head painfully on the rock.
Naturally I screamed again as this happened, but my voice reverberated into the darkness and after that there was absolute silence. I sat up, but I didn't dare move more than that, in case I lost my way and couldn't find the tiny entrance again. For ages I sat there, my eyes staring into the darkness and the cold eating into my bones and then, without consciously hearing anything, I became aware of a voice, deep and resonant, that spoke to me.
"Impiety."
I held my breath and strained my ears and mind to listen.
"Impiety. Shall a man, put to death by iron, his flesh torn and disfigured by nails, be compared to one of the Immortals? The soul of a wise man, one who works miracles and walks on water, may be immortal, but not the body. Not even though he died a bitter death. Not the body."
The final words died down to a low rumble that seemed to come from deep within the earth and I had no doubt that I was hearing the voice of Trophonios himself, speaking from his place in Hades. The silence returned, for so long that I thought the oracle had finished with me, and then the voice began again, whispering from the darkness.
"Impiety. It is easier to write on water, or for man to fly like the birds, than for a woman to turn from impiety once her feet have strayed in such paths267. Cast her out. Cast her out; there is a better future for you."
Once again the voice died away and there was utter silence. After long ages of darkness a small light seemed to approach me from a great distance, expanding as it came, until it filled my whole vision, yet the cavern remained dark and invisible around it. In the light I seemed to see myself in Rome, becoming rich and popular. Caesar himself smiled on me and attractive women beckoned with inviting gestures. I saw myself marrying one of them, ravishingly beautiful and rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Slaves, estates, power, influence, all were mine to do with as I pleased. Men fought for my approval and trembled at my frown. I walked in Caesar's palace as if it were mine and legions marched at my command, the ancient glory of Greece was restored, all men called me the Liberator and my name was inscribed in tablets of honour in Athens and in the temples of the gods.
I seemed to spend a lifetime enjoying these pleasures, and then the vision faded, leaving me dazed and confused. As if in a dream I felt myself seized by unseen hands and forced feet first through the opening again. The same invisible hands drew me up through the air and out of the pit and I found myself half-sitting on the platform, gazing owlishly up at the priest and the men in black who surrounded him, two of whom now held torches. At once the men picked me up and carried me to an ornate stone seat not far from the platform.
"Speak, highly favoured one. Let this Throne of Memory bring back to your mind all that you have seen and heard."
My tongue felt too large for my mouth, but it was as if the same invisible force was squeezing the words out of me. Stumbling and halting, I managed to tell the priest what I had experienced and as I spoke a scribe stepped forward into the torchlight and wrote it all down. When I had finished I felt utterly weary and I slumped down in the throne. The next thing I can remember is Petosirus and my other slaves laying me down on my bed in the House of Good Fortune and the Good Spirit. I tried to speak to them but the words wouldn't come and it took all my concentration and strength to manage to mumble a single word.
"Lucius?"
"He's asking for Lucius, lord," one of the slaves told Petosirus.
"Lucius has gone down to Trophonios, lord," Petosirus told me. "The soothsayer told him this morning that the omens were propitious. He wanted to wait for your return, lord, but you've been gone all night and all day so he finally gave up and went off with the priest just after sunset."
258 Sibyl was the name given to any female prophet. The most famous was the Sibyl of Cumae, near Naples, but there were many others. Return
259 Trophonios may have been an historical character. He and his brother Agamedes were famous architects who built Alkmene's Chamber at Elektra and the great temple at Delphi. Their reward for this was to be granted a gentle death. Return
260 Pausanias mentions many oracles, including a number dedicated to Ammon. There was even a Sanctuary of Ammon in Sparta, which he describes in his Guide to Greece III.xviii. "The Lakonians seem to have used the Libyan oracle more than anyone else in Greece from the beginning. Also they say, when Lysander was besieging Aphytis in Pallene, Ammon appeared to him in the night to warn him it would be better for himself and better for Lakonia to give up their war with Aphytis; so Lysander broke up the siege and made the Lakonians offer more worship to this god; Ammon is not more honoured by the Lybian Ammonians than he is at Aphytis." Return
261 In the Guide to Greece III.xxvi Pausanias mentions this oracle. "The road from Oitylon to Thalamai is almost ten miles, with a sanctuary and an oracle of Ino on the way. The oracles are given in sleep: whatever people ask to be told the goddess reveals it to them in dreams." Return
262 The Golden Ass of Apuleius, written about this time, frequently mentions robbers and bandits as a common danger on the roads of Greece. Return
263 This was the battle in 338 BC in which Phillip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great, defeated the combined Greek armies, putting a permanent end to Greek experiments in democracy. Return
264 This was, in fact, an important part of the oracular procedure and in many of the Asculapions was formalised, with theatrical performances of the more dramatic cures. By these means the enquirer was conditioned to expect marvels. Only when the priests judged that he was in a sufficiently receptive frame of mind was he allowed to approach the god or hero. In the case of Trophonios it is possible that the diet rich in meat and the constant cold played a part in bringing about the required mental state. Return
265 Plato, Plutarch and others retold stories of men who had passed through a "near-death" experience and spent time wandering in the heavenly realms, where they encountered various divine spirits, viewed the delights of the good and the tortures of the wicked and discovered the real meaning of existence, before returning to life. (See, for example, the last part of Plutarch's On God's Slowness to Punish.) Return
266 Sometimes spelled Daedalus. This is the famous architect who designed the Cretan Labyrinth and then escaped from King Minos by making wings of feathers and wax. His son Icarus climbed too near the sun, whose heat melted the wax, causing Icarus to fall to his death in the sea. Pausanius, in his Guide to Greece IX.xi, records the interesting variant that "when he fled from Crete he made quite small ships for himself and his son Ikaros, but he also invented sails for them, which had not been discovered in those days, and with a stern wind he outsailed the oars of Minos' fleet. Daidalos was safe, but they say Ikaros steered rather awkwardly and upset his ship and the sea-swell washed him up drowned on a still unnamed island off Samos." Return
267 These words are taken from an oracle of Apollo, quoted by Porphyry. The oracle was given to a husband who sought the god's advice on how to persuade his wife to forsake Christianity. Pagans and Christians p. 258 is my source for this. Return
