The Byzantion Tale of the Ephesians

I - Ephesus, Night of the Year at the Great Theater

When I raised my arms with excitement, I said, "The audacious roaring wave ruthlessly struck the cliff," as the glitter had seized my gaze. Our eyes met. He cast his eyes down with a mocking twist of his lips. He had sensed how I provoked him. He took a few steps and approached me. I wished for him to witness this magnificent spectacle with his own eyes, a sight I couldn't resist. Sparkling waves crashed against the rocks, foaming and scattering like pearls. I was a witness to a mystical ritual. It was harvest time, the noon of the late days of summer.

Raising his right index finger, he pointed towards the shore and said, "Such play of light: if it isn't the divine play of gods to us mortals, then what is it?" He wouldn't give up on his stance. He couldn't hear me, he couldn't understand. He had placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me towards him. We assigned different meanings to what we witnessed. I wasn't afraid, I wasn't hesitating. I pointed tirelessly at the sparkling waves. We beheld the magnificent spectacle together. Radiant lights danced upon the waves. When I rested my cheek against his, he flinched. His sweaty cheek was flushed. He took shuddering breaths, a mix of astonishment and concern. The greatest gifts life had given me were the keenness of my eyes and ears. My questioning of the gods secretly angered him.

I could ask my poignant question without hesitation. Disregarding his condition, I said, "I truly wish for extraordinary and peculiar things to happen there. Tell me, my friend, what keeps the tongues of the statues we erect in every corner of the city?" He pushed me with irritation, his face reddened. I adjusted my toga(1). He didn't say a word. He shook his head in frustration. However, whenever the conversation circled back to the gods, he used to roar. Drawing strength from his silence, I smiled and asked, "Could this be one of the gods' sly pranks?"

"These waves are no ordinary waves. They are the reflections of Apollo's(2) arrows. Who knows, divine glimmers might have seized our sight. You're grumbling about missing the chance to witness the gods. Are you blind?" he said.

"Don't get worked up, my brother. I won't invite misfortune on such an important day," I said. He deserved consolation; I embraced him tightly. Loudly, I called, "We're parched, bring some water." A servant bowed and handed me a tray. After taking a sip or two, I said, "In this heat, like those incompetent beings we've been waiting for, I waited for the gods to come back to their senses. I won't trouble anyone further. Today is a great day; I'll behave myself." I placed the cup on the tray. The slave's hands trembled. Speaking ill of the gods wasn't well-received. When I gestured for him to withdraw, he vanished. Doubting the majority's faith was seen as madness.

Growing tired of pacing the corridor, he squeezed his way beside me again. I knew he was furious. He pointed to the spot we had been observing, "The surroundings of the harbor are enclosed, gilded. Those radiant waves are relentlessly beating against the harbor cliffs," he said. I sensed he was giving a speech and trying to exert pressure through his tone. We had begun the shooting game we had played since childhood.

With arrogance, I puffed out my chest slightly, spread my arms, and said, "No matter how furious the crashing wave on the shore is, its fervor fades before long. When viewed from unknown seas, they've come to besiege. After enduring various tribulations, when they reach the shores of Ephesus, they throw themselves into the earth, embracing it under the sun. The land that defends its homeland, with the wisdom of serenity, absorbs and destroys the enemy. The waves vanished helplessly. The fall of the gods!" He listened to me in terror. Our childish banter had long turned into fear of damnation. We were in the age when the gods had abandoned Rome.