The Minoan Rhapsody

Poliochne

Hades had no mercy on Poliochne, Lemnos' west coast main city. Bushes lost their foliage, ceilings were torn from houses, and trees were uprooted. Waves of howling wind and stinging rain beat to submission the stubborn old yellow and red houses that lined the main thoroughfare. The side alleys turned to creeks of muddy water and debris, while houses on Poliochne's lower bank flooded lifetimes of hard work and sacrifice.

The storm would not allow Myrina to stand. Her wounds stole much of her strength. Her face was swollen, eyes almost shut. She crawled on all fours; her limbs deeply scratched. She was in labor. Her swollen belly rubbed against the ground while her screams from the contractions were overpowered by a storm that didn't care for a beaten woman. It mercilessly whipped and shoved her naked body. There was no one to aid, only the screams of a thousand pains and the silent prayers of those hiding in panic.

She made her way to the one place she could find shelter, Hera's temple. She banged on the closed door with her bloody hands.

The door opened.

She crawled inside. Barely able to open her teary eyes, she watched the silhouettes of the people inside cleared her way. No man, woman or child assisted her but rather kept their distance as if her disfigured face was the result of a disease to be feared.

She didn't ask for help.

The door closed behind her. She found the strength to stand up and raise her head high. I am the Lady of Lemnos. She struggled to keep her whimpering quiet while staggering to Hera's statue on the back end of the temple. She got down on the floor, face up and spread her legs. The child was crowning. She took a deep breath, her lungs filling with agony. All thoughts within her succumbed to the pain.

Upon her bellows the others melted into the background as if they weren't there.

No fists or clubs could be more brutal. She gasped and cringed, screaming like her inside was being ripped out with a blunt tool. She felt her flesh stretching. She held her breath, pushing, as the child was expelled from within her.

The newborn lay on the floor, crying as a crimson blob slid from inside Myrina, splattering her offspring.

The storm quieted.

The crowd's muttering stopped at the slamming of the temple door closing.

A man named Latramis, dressed in an undyed wool robe approached Myrina with a knife in hand. He knelt by the newborn and cut the white, thick birth cord, tying a knot on the newborn's end. He then grabbed and inspected it, while wiping its face clean. His robe got stained with the bloody blob that was splattered on and around the newborn.

The crowd made way to a soaked Lord Thoas who walked in and stood silently. Holding the newborn, Latramis turned towards him.

"I am sorry my Lord," he said. "It's a girl."

Thoas clenched his jaw and fists. His knuckles were freshly bruised and stained with Myrina's blood. He looked disgusted at her. "You wouldn't give birth on your own. If I had known you were going to spit out another girl, I wouldn't have beaten her out of you. I would have let her rot inside of you instead."

He turned around and left the temple. He closed his eyes tightly and screamed is lungs out to the sky. When he opened his eyes, he saw the full moon and stars staring down at him from a cloudless sky encircled by storm clouds. Faceless swirling wind creatures danced behind the storm wall – a perfect circle of destruction. He looked down at the thoroughfare and made out the silhouettes of tall men. He frowned while forcing his eyes to open wide as if it would help him see the distant figures better in the darkness.

The seven men were black as onyx. Their skins shimmered as the moonlight reflected of the water beading of their bodies. They were holding single-handed sickles in each hand and stood still, defiant of the storm and their surroundings.

Thoas walked backwards a few paces, turned, and fled.

#

Inside the temple, Latramis returned the newborn to Myrina and placed her on the floor by her side. He wiped his bloody hands off is robe and left without saying a word.

The crowd inside the temple remained dead silent. The whaling winds and bands of rain resumed, reminding everyone that Poliochne's desolation was not over yet.

Myrina tried to open her eyes so she could look at her child for the first time. She tenderly picked her off the floor and wiped her face clean. Another girl. "Why?!" she yelled, looking up at Hera's statue. There was no answer from the cold stone.

The men left.

The women approached the sobbing Lady of Lemnos. One took the child while two others lifted her up.

"Myrina, my lady," one said. "One more girl doesn't make a difference."