Sacrifice to the Lord of the Sea

Sacrifice to the Lord of the Sea

The priest waited patiently while the woman wept. The tears trickled quickly down her cheeks, moistening her chlamys, but that was the least of her worries. Knowing that her tears would bring her no relief, she cried all the more, frustrated, helpless, her head down in defeat. When she at last calmed down and had no more tears to shed, she asked in a trembling voice, articulating the words with effort,

"O priest, why my daughter?"

Argus, the priest of Poseidon's shrine in Troizen, spoke softly but in a cold, controlled voice. "Because little Lyra is the most beautiful girl in the city. Her large eyes carry the green of the sea depths and her golden hair floats in the breeze just like the seaweeds before mighty Poseidon's breath. She is the perfect one to please the Sea Lord."

"But you sacrificed the Horse King one week ago. Why do you need Lyra as well?" The woman lifted her head at last and looked at the priest with sorrowful red eyes, the glazed tears beginning to dry on her face.

"It is not I who need her; it is Poseidon who wants her. This I came to know of in the temple. If you don't give me Lyra, Troizen risks being mercilessly swallowed by the giant roaring waves, just like the doomed city of Atlantis once was."

"But are you certain that it is her that he requested?"

He nodded gravely, "There is no mistake. My temple visions are never wrong."

The woman sank her head onto her chest again. After some minutes, she uttered, in a voice stifled with anguish,

"She is the only one I have now. My husband died at war and my two boys succumbed to fever at the end of the last outbreak. And yet" – her voice faltered – "I don't want to be responsible for the destruction of our city. As much as it pains me to say it – take her; just take my Lyra."

Argus kneeled in front of her and reverently kissed her hands without saying anything.

Some minutes later, a frightened eight-year-old girl followed the priest to Poseidon's temple. Her white chiton and her golden hair flew furiously in the violent wind. The heavy grey clouds hid the sun and, although it was still early, it looked like evening.

They finally reached Poseidon's temple, situated on a rock overlooking the heaving waves that grew taller and more violent as the terrible storm approached. Without a word, Argus pushed the terrified girl inside the temple and closed the huge twin oak doors, bolting them from the outside. Slowly he descended the ancient stone steps, worn smooth from centuries of use, that led down to the seashore. Dropping to his knees on the sand, the priest directed a short prayer to the Lord of the Sea, hoping he would be appeased by the sacrifice and, thus, would command the churning waves and menacing clouds to dissolve into nothingness. When the priest felt the rain rippling the waves and heard the thundering above the mountains, he stood up and rushed to the city.

Lyra stood motionless inside the temple, listening to the mighty wind that shook the foundations of the building. She watched numb with fear the water coming from between the wood planks on the floor. The giant waves threw themselves against the doors as if they intended to swallow everything in front of them. Not able to do anything else, the girl crawled to the tallest part of the temple, waiting for the moment the Sea God would come to carry her away into the mysterious depths of the ocean.

Suddenly the doors came down with a crash and the blue-haired god invaded the shrine. He had a glittering crown made of huge, multicolored pearls on his curly hair. In one hand he carried a golden trident and with the other he controlled the reigns of his magnificent shining chariot drawn by monstrous animals, half-horse and half-serpent.

Shaking from head to foot, Lyra shut her eyes and kneeled in front of the god, expecting to be seized and carried away by him at any moment. Instead, she felt his huge hand gently caressing her head. Too frightened to look at him, the girl kept her eyes closed, waiting with a pounding heart. Poseidon spoke to her in a voice that, although deep and cavernous, had a surprisingly gentle tone.

"What are you doing all alone in my shrine, little one?"

Put at ease by his gentleness, Lyra opened her eyes and spoke. The words came trembling out of her colorless lips.

"O mighty god, the priest locked me in here so you would be appeased."

Poseidon roared with laughter. When he finished laughing he remarked,

"The priest is a fool if he thinks he can buy my calmness with a scared little girl. When I feel like wreaking havoc, I do as I please. He should know better and accept my fury instead of locking innocent children inside the temple for me to carry away. This is no way to interpret my wishes." Taking Lyra effortlessly in his arms, he placed her by his side in his shining mother-of-pearl chariot and, spurring on his sea beasts, said,

"I will take you back to your mother. Don't be afraid and hold tightly onto the chariot's front edge. After I deliver you safely, I shall vent my fury elsewhere."

Amid crashing waves and bellowing thunder he drove his chariot to Lyra's house. The small dwelling stood on top of a mountain and was made of solid rock to withstand the fury of the elements. When the Sea Lord reached the door, he put the girl on the ground and placed in her hands a bag made of immaculate white wool. Getting into his chariot again, he addressed Lyra.

"Farewell, child. This is a gift from Poseidon, so you will remember me and see that I am not as merciless as the priests say."

As soon as the god was gone, the storm miraculously abated. Lyra marveled to see a colorful rainbow taking its arched shape across the sea and over the mountain. She entered the house in a rush, shouting,

"Mama, Mama, I'm back!"

Her mother came from the kitchen and embraced her tightly, astonished that the great god had spared her Lyra.

"Mama, the Sea God drove me in his chariot. He gave me this!" She tossed in her mother's hands the woolen bag. Lyra's mother opened the bag on the table and thirty pearls, as big as peaches, spotless and perfectly round, rolled on the wood.

Lyra and her mother fell on their knees and prayed to Poseidon. They spent the night happily, thinking about how they would improve their lot with the pearls given by the god.

The next day was warm, the radiant sun rising high up above the mountain peaks. The luscious pomegranates and figs sagged low on the branches. A gentle breeze whispered across Troizen and the city showed no trace of the fearful storm from the previous day. The god this time had been merciful and only a few fishermen's huts and other houses along the shore were destroyed by the waters. Among them was the house of Argus, who died under the debris of the collapsed roof caused by Poseidon's fury.