Anstace stood at the door of the temple of Hecate and looked out through the sacred gate of the temenos to the path that ran down to the village. The sun was high in the sky and its harsh light beat down on a trail that was pitilessly clear of travelers.
The priestess sighed in disappointment and went inside to fetch her broom. Eusebia was late and as Anstace swept the temple steps, she began to worry about the old woman. Up to that day, Eusebia had never failed to make her way up the rocky trail to pay her respects to the Lady. Although she had been late a few times, she had never been this late. A shiver of apprehension went up the priestesses’ spine that was not a Kiss from the Lady and she bent to her work trying to ignore the growing feeling that something dire had happened to the woman.
Eusebia was the last of her kind in the village — the last of the older generation that still paid proper homage to the Gods, and recently, the only visitor to come to the temple. All the rest had either died off, or like the younger generation, had turned their backs on the old ways to follow the priests of the new God and his son. Even the worshipers of Zeus had been caught up in the craze, and now worshipped him alone in his temple at the foot of Mt. Olympus without thought for the rest of his siblings, declaring him to be the supreme and only god. It seemed as if the entire world had been caught up in the mad rush to abandon their Gods.
And if, as she feared, Eusebia was gone, then the very reason for the temple and for that matter, Anstace’s very existence had departed with her. What then, she wondered. What did a priestess do with herself when there were no more worshippers to guide and teach? For that matter, what did the Gods do when no one offered them prayer and sacrifice? She had no answers to these pressing questions and channeled her growing anxiety into her sweeping. A stubborn patch of dust on one corner of a pillar resisted her efforts, and she was glad for the distraction it offered.
A memory came to her as she worked, of the woman who had been both her priestess and her initiator into the Mysteries. Helenka had been a wise teacher, and she had often reminded her young student that the Fate’s decree could not be disobeyed. If it was the will of the Gods that misfortune had come to pass, Anstace knew that she was in no position to question them.
But still she wondered, what then? She had spent a lifetime in the service of Hecate and knew nothing else but service to her Lady since she had been a young girl. Now like her sole worshiper, Eusebia, she had grown old and the idea of any other life was incomprehensible.
Anstace finally managed to work the last of the dust out of its hiding place, and as she swept it out and away from the temple steps, something made her look up. A traveler was coming, and for a moment she felt her hopes rise, but then as the waves of heat dancing over the trail cleared, she saw that it was not the old woman, but Nikolos, the goatherd. And worse, as he stopped short of the sacred gate, she saw that his expression was grim.
Anstace put down her broom and walked up to him.
“Greetings Hiereia” he said. “I have news--ill news I am afraid.”
“It’s Eusebia, isn’t it?” She did her best not to let her shoulders sag and kept her voice as level as she was able.
The man looked down and way from her, as if he was afraid to meet her gaze and his words came out hesitantly. “Yes, my lady. She is gone. She passed on in the night.”
“I know” Anstace replied, pretending not to notice that Nikolos had crossed himself as she spoke. “But thank you for coming and telling me. I know that despite your differences, you and she were close.” Nikolos was a Christian, and Anstace knew that he had tried many times to convert the Eusebia, and that despite his failures and his fears for her soul, that he had cared for her like a favorite aunt.
There was a long silence between them, and then Nikolos spoke. “What now, lady? What will you do? What will happen to this--place?” There was no hint of gloating in his question. Although he strongly disagreed with Anstace’s beliefs, and would never have stepped within the temple grounds and acknowledged her Goddess, his family had had been devout followers for generations and he still felt a certain deference the long tradition that surrounded the place, pagan though it was to his eyes.
“I do not know, Nikolos. I must pray to the Lady for an answer.” Anstace started to turn back for the temple, but Nikolos was not finished.
“I have more news, Lady, and it too will be hard on your ears.”
Anstace fought back a sudden wave of vertigo and waited for him to elaborate, dreading what might come out of his mouth.
“Yesterday, a traveler came through the village. He had news from New Rome. He said that Emperor Constantine followed the council of his mother and had the temples of Asclepius and Aphrodite destroyed. The traveler also said that the Emperor has ordered the crucifixion of all magicians, soothsayers and pagan priests as heretics. And the traveler told many tales of mobs sacking the old holy places and killing all those who served there.”
Nikolos did not expand on this. Nor did he need to. Anstace had heard such stories before, but never to such a degree. Until then, the old ways and the new had coexisted side-by-side, even if the Emperor himself had converted. Now both of them knew, without having to say it aloud, that it was only a matter of time before such madness reached out even to villages as remote as theirs.
“I understand,” Anstace said, feeling as if she was speaking her words from somewhere miles away from where they stood. “If you would, come back tomorrow. I might have need of you.”
Nikolos bit his lip, betraying his hesitation, but Anstace had expected this. “Fear not, Nikolos, what I might ask will not betray your God, nor his son.” The man did not reply, but reluctantly nodded his agreement and departed.
Anstace watched him make his way back down to the village and when he was out of sight, she crossed the sacred courtyard and went inside the temple. There, she lit the oil lamps on the bomos, the temple altar, and sat before the image of her goddess.
The statue was old, older than Anstace herself, and had been fashioned many generations earlier by some unknown devotee. And as it had from her earliest days as an acolyte before she had become one of the Karuai, the priestesses of the Temple, it radiated a feeling of infinite wisdom and peace.
And both these qualities were needed now more than ever, she thought. Once again the question came to her—what now? And what of all this that has been the center of the only life I have ever known? A vision of the temple came to her then; firelight flickering across its once clean walls, its altar overturned and loud shouts of anger rang out in her ears as she saw the image of her goddess, smashed to pieces. Anstace knew it instantly for the future it was. Fighting back her horror, she took a deep calming breath and prayed.
“Tell me Mother, Great Bringer of Light,” she whispered. “Tell me what I must do.” Then she waited in silence. The hours passed, and somewhere in the far reaches of the night, the answer came to her.
Nikolos arrived with the dawn, and Anstace greeted him at the gate. “What would you have of me, Lady?”
“Only to borrow your donkey from you. Nothing more,” she said, holding out a handful of coins. It wasn’t much, in fact it was all she had managed to save over the lean years, but she knew that it would be enough. “This should pay for his service.”
Nikolos took the money from her. “And so, you are leaving?”
“Yes” she replied soberly. “And with me leaves the Lady as well. I would not stay nor leave her here to violated by my neighbors. Nor would I think that they would wish that upon their heads either. It is better that than to follow in the footsteps of those that sacked the temple of Aphrodite, don’t you agree?”
Nikolos considered her words for a moment. “Yes” he said at last. “That would be best.“
“Still it is better this way” Anstace interjected. “Out of respect for our fathers and those before them. With no other choice, I think that that would be as they would want it.”
“You are right, lady.” Nikolos agreed. There was sad, knowing look in his eyes as he put the coins away in his waist sack. “Send my donkey back when you are done with him.”
Anstace left the village that morning, stopping only to visit the local herbalist, and carrying only a tiny cloth-covered bundle on the donkey. A few villagers saw her leading the beast out of the settlement, and some crossed themselves, or made signs against the evil eye, while others pretended not to see her pass by. But a few nodded furtively to her in respect. For all her pagan beliefs, she was still a priestess and those same few, like Nikolos, still respected the past she was part of. For her part, Anstace made sure walk as straight and as tall as she could until the village and its inhabitants were far behind.
Towards sunset, she found the path she had been seeking. It was a faint track in the landscape, barely noticeable for all the growth that had overtaken it. The priestess urged her beast up the trail and together they made their way up into the hills. When at last her final destination was in sight, she removed the cloth-wrapped bundle fro the donkey and with a slap to its flank, sent the creature back down the trail to find its own way home.
Then she began her climb. The cave wasn’t far from where the trail ended, but the years and arthritis had taken their toll on her, and she was forced to stop and rest many times during her ascent. It was almost sunset by the time she reached its mouth and its cool breath came as a welcome relief to the priestess.
She went inside, groping along the rocky walls until she located a cleft in the rock that opened into an inner chamber further back in the hillside. A stranger to the place would never have found it, but even though age had dimmed her memory of many things, she still knew the place from her younger days when she had been brought there her by her teacher, Helenka, to be initiated. Then, she had been terrified of what possibilities had laid ahead, but now she knew it as a place of comfort and welcome.
The chamber was still as she recalled, although it seemed smaller now than it had then, and on the far wall, was the empty niche created by nature itself. With great reverence, Anstace, unwrapped her burden and placed the statue of the Lady on the natural shelf, making a gesture of respect before it. Then she brought out a tiny fire making kit and brewed herself some of the tea she had bought from the herbalist.
To her surprise, brew was not bitter, but actually rather pleasing. As a dull numbness began to spread over her, Anstace laid down on the cave floor, and gazed at the Lady’s image. ‘What indeed does a priestess do when there are no more worshippers” she thought. “What do the Gods do?” But this time, she knew the answer; it had come to her the night before as she had prayed: They hide what is sacred until once again humanity allows wisdom into their hearts.
Anstace smiled and closed her eyes, feeling at peace. After a lifetime of service, she had performed the ultimate duty to her Lady—the only duty left to her. Darkness closed in around her, but she was not afraid. There was a light in the distance, and it welcomed her.
Copyright 2005 Greg Crowfoot
All Rights Reserved. No duplication of this material may take place without express written permission of the author.
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