"I should introduce myself, as it behooves any storyteller of either truth or craft to establish in the minds of those he entertains credence for his story. I am Aristalichus, premier of the Athenian Council. I was born in Athens fifty-four winters ago, and am considered old enough to have gained a degree of wisdom. I have had the position of premier for the last three winters, and after one more I shall step down as the charter of government drawn up by our forefathers demands, and let a new one take my place. Ad premier, I bear the responsibility for all that my city does and all that happens to it. I am a deeply religious man, paying homage to all the gods, both those of Olympus, and those from afar. Many other in the city share this virute, and I say with pride that there are few gods who we do not honor with a shrine or alter somewhere in out fair city. However, even those few who we have missed, through the human ability to err, can exert power over us.
"But of course, you wish to hear of the plague, not our religious practices. However, you will see the purpose of bringing into the story this element when you hear of the power of the Unknown God. As I said before, it was the spring of the year when the plague struck. It came to use from the bowels of the earth, Charon's kingdom, borne by the rats he uses as his messengers. We know not who the first victim was, only that there many of our fighting men had succumbed within days. By the end of the first quarter-moon after the first case, a third of our warriors and many of the townspeople had contracted the disease. In haste, we sent diplomats to Sparta to sue for peace, for we knew that war was not something we could afford at the time.
"The plague not only infected easily, spreading from house to house by the rats, but it killed slowly and painfully. Ring shaped rashes began to appear over a victim's skin, followed by painful swelling near the joints and underneath the jaws. Out physicians treated as best they could, lancing the swellings in a vain attempt to allow the vapors within the body flow more freely and to release the poisons within. However, I have not heard of more than a hand's share of fingers who contracted the disease and did not die. The wise women told the people to place the wildflowers from outside the city walls inside their clothing to help ward off plague; many believed them and tried it. This seemed beyond reason to me, and other members of the high council as well, so we sought out these wise women. Their answer surprised us with it's veracity and wisdom. 'The people need hope,' they said, 'and when people need hope they are willing to accept whatever can be given. You and the other elders of the city can offer them nothing, so we do what we can. You will have riots and despair otherwise.'
"We accepted their wisdom, and took it one step further. 'We are going to seek the oracle at Delphi, and see if she can tell us the solution to the disaster facing us at this time' we told the people. Packing what we needed for the five day ride to Delphi, we set out, fearing that on our return we would find only an empty city. Our fears gave our feet wings, and the Mars heard the pleas of old soldiers, and gave our horses unusual endurance. Three days later we arrived, far faster than we could have otherwise hoped.
"We walked quickly through the town until we reached the Oracle's shrine. The serving girl-priestess of the shrine rose as we approached and greeted us. 'The Oracle expects you and will see you now, Premier of Athens' she announced in a high sing-song voice that seemed as otherworldy as the diaphanous white gown and silver torque she wore. I entered the shrine alone, as had been agreed during the journey, for the responsibility and the risk should both be mine, as premier.
"The interior of the shrine was dim, with no interior lighting. However it was not completely dark. The fine white marble of which it was constructed seemed to bear in light from outside, even while being opaque. I am not a natural philosopher as is my fellow council member Aristotle however, and such things are beyond my ken. The precise center of the shrine was pitch black however, and it was from there that the Oracle spoke. 'Premier of Athens?'
"'Yes lady?' I managed in reply. It was difficult not to stutter. I realized that there were powers at work here that I could not understand, and moreover probably did not wish to. Underneath the trappings of purity there seemed an unease, a wrongness. But I needed the Oracle's answer, and could not afford to listen to such childish fears.
"There was a tiny rustling noise, and the Oracle turned to face me. I could not have know which way she faced, for there was no light around her, except that her eyes shone in the darkness; featureless silver orbs suspended in blackness. 'Your city will live, if you make careful haste to follow my every instruction. There is a fast ship, a courier which was summoned here two quarter-moons ago. It is anchored in port at this time. The crew is Athenian, and wintered in Alexandria before coming here. Take this ship, for they will certainly follow your direction, and make sail for Crete. The winds will favor you, as Triton cares little for Charon, his rival in the underworld. In Crete, find a man named Epimenedes. Follow his words as carefully as you follow mine, or you all will surely perish.'
"We left the shrine in haste, and found the ship the Oracle spoke of. Christened the Dolphin, it was captained by a fellow named Ramis. He was not Athenian, though the crew was, but rather hailed from the Northmen, a giant of a man with long braided blond hair and a booming voice, who had accompanied a Norse raiding party twenty winters prior, and had stayed here, preferring the warmth and civilization to the barbarous cold north. He spoke passable Greek, and greeted us warmly when we boarded. He was sympathetic to our plight, though not personally interested, as he had no friends or family in Atherns. The reaminder of the crew was distressed at the news, and would have rowed to Crete if the very breath of Triton had opposed us the entire way. As the Oracle had promised though, the passage was smooth and fast. Upon arriving at Crete, we found Epimenedes waiting on the end of the pier. We never even dropped anchor, merely held position long enough for the shoreboat to pick him up. Then we returned to Athens, the wind switching again to bear us along almost the very minute we left Crete's harbor.
"During the voyage, Epimenedes queried us about everything we had done. Had we made sacrifices to all the normal gods, he asked. Of course we had, we are the men of Athens. The help of every god we knew of had been sought. Had we tried to contain the rats, he asked. That too we had done, with little success, for the burrowers and scurriers of Charon's kingdom were numerous and clever. Had we attempted to appease Charon's anger, he asked. But that too we had tried, offering sacrifice after sacrifice to the reclusive keeper of the underworld. Two days out from port, he stopped questioning, but instead knelt on the deck of the ship and began to ponder our words. He did not move from there for four days, even after we had reached port. Finally, as our patience was about to snap, he arose and announced that it was time to journey to Athens.
"The first day's ride was slow and gentle, as the horses were still needing to adjust to being again on land. Men with only two legs and quick minds need a few minutes to adjust to solid land and a few more to settle onto a rocking boat deck. Horses, brutes with four legs take considerably longer. All things considered however, we made good time back to Athens, having been gone less that a moon all told. Once we arrived, we were distraught to find that nearly a full half of the populace had succumbed to the disease and passed on. Those who had once been assigned to bear garbage out to the dumps beyond the city walls now made twice as many rounds to bear out the dead to the mass graves that were being dug day and night in order to house the bodies. And I cannot honestly say that the living were better off than the dead, being surrounded by dead family and friends at all times.
"Epimenedes told us to make hast and find a flock of sheep. We did so, a fine flock of twenty ewes that had belonged to an outskirts shepherd. He had succumbed to the plague, and had no more need of his sheep, but we had most desparate need of them. Epimenedes then told us to gather the stonemasons who still lived, and enough stone and mortar for twenty shrines. The sheep were then penned up for the night without grass, while Epimenedes explained his idea.
"'If there is nothing within the world that can be done to stop this plague, which it seems there is not,' he began, 'then it would seem reasonable to assume that the solution, if solution there is lies in another realm. As there are only two realms, the realm of matter and the realm of spirit, we must appeal to the realm of spirit. In addition, because the realm of spirit is occupied by the gods, we must appeal to them, for they are the arbiters of the disposition of the spiritual realm. Since every god known to you has been appealed to, we can assume one of these things: the god who controls the solution has been appealed to, and appeased for the reason he has withheld it, but chooses not to save Athens. In that case, there is no hope for you at all. Another case: the god who can save you has been appealed to, but is not satisfied, and will therefore not give you the solution. In this case as well, you have no hope, for there is no way known to appease a god but through sacrifice, and if your sacrifice was not accepted you can do nothing else. Finally, there is one more option: the god who can save you has not been appealed to at all. Since you have appealed to every god you know of, this would mean that there is a god of which you do not know who needs to be appeased. This too seems hopeless.
"'However, I submit to you, men of Athens, this proposition. The god who would have within his power the ability to cure plague cannot be a vengeful or mean-hearted god. Instead, the god should be benevolent and loving, as well as extremely powerful. Therefore, I would offer to you this suggestion. If we ask this god whose name we do not know for forgiveness of our igorance, and then honor him as well as we know how, he may be merciful to us, and restore health to your city.'
"We found Epimenedes' reasoning sound, and decided to execute this plan the next morning. I must admit though, I had my doubts. I slept little that night, arising with the dawn. I found that I was not alone either: There was not a member of the council who was not present that morning, unless they were already dead of plague. As the grey of the dawn sky faded, Epimenedes came up the hill toward us, leading the stonemasons of Athens. He knelt by the gate of the sheep pen and prayed toward Olympus in a loud voice. "Oh god whose name we do not know, have mercy on us despite our ignorance. If you are willing to sspare us, we ask for this sign. Oh Unknown God, when we release these sheep, we ask that they will lie down and rest rather than grazing. If you will grant us this simple sign, we will worship you as great among the gods, and beg you to lift this cursed plague." When he finished, Epimenedes arose, and quickly loosed the latch on the sheep pen.
The tension and doubt in the air were almost palpable. We were not all shepherds, but every man here had watched sheep before, and we knew that when a sheep was hungry, it would never lay down to rest, for sheep only eat and graze while standing. In addition, having been penned all night, these sheep were in noneed of rest. However, we watched on. Honestly, what could we do otherwise?
Despite my hope, it still made my mouth fall open like a surprised youth's when the first sheep went no more than a hundred cubits from the pen and lay down in the grass, never taking a mouthful of it. My astonishment only grew as the second, then the third, then the fourth followed suit. Soon all twenty sheep were settled in the grass, dozing. Epimenedes fell again to his knees in prayer again, this time quietly thanking the unknown god who would save us. He was not alone, as many other fell to theirs knees as well. I signalled the stonemasons and the few council members still standing. We quickly assembled altars by each sheep. Each altar was crafted by one craftsman, and each mason worked in solitude, never looking at the work his fellows were doing. It was another astonishment to us when we realized that each altar, while not identical, was comprised of twelve cut stones, and dressed with a three-pointed capstone. We sacrificed the sheep on the altars, one on each, rejoicing at the power and mercy of this new god. Returning home, we began to spread the news to all who would listen that the plague was over, that we had found a merciful god to heal our land because of our humility and prayers.
That night passed quickly, with little more sleep than the one before. Just before morning a rustling was heard throughout the city. The rats that had plagued us began to run along the gutters away from the city. Some who were curious followed them, reporting later that every rat they could see had returned itself to Charon's kingdom, pouring into a small cave not far from the city wall. Two of the bravest soldiers had taken torches with them, and explored the cave. They swore on Zeus' beard that every single rat had drowned itself in an underground lake nearly a league into the cave, but no one else went back to verify the story. As for the plague, those who were sick begna to recover, and by day's end were walking around the city. Even those who had been on death's door were sitting up and taking soft foods by evening. Not a single person more perished.
I know that no god as powerful as this will accept easily being forgotten, so I and several of the other council members have tried to reason how to keep him appeased. To Zeus we offer gold at the temple, and Aphrodite recieves a few of our maidens as her serving girls. However, it seems to me that the unknown god should recieve a portion of something we value deeply. I know not whether or how the others in the council will remember our deliverance, but as for me, whenever I drink a goblet of wine, I shall pour a few drop on the ground in sacrifice to our Savior, the Unknown God.
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