The Sacrifice

young man sacrificed by female dominated religion

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	Fog covered the bald mountain as we climbed slowly along 
the narrow path leading through the tall grass to the summit. Two 
of us carried torches to light the way in the dark before dawn, the 
sky was beginning to brighten in the east.  Fingers of firey red 
light spread out along the bottoms of the clouds at the horizon.  
It was the morning of the summer solstice, but there was a chill in 
the air.  A steady breeze blew from the sea to the north.  It was 
slow going for me and the two other older priestesses.  My son, 
Damon, and the High Priestess, Dione, were young and strong, it was 
not hard for them.  Half way up I told them we must stop and rest 
for a few minutes.  We stopped in a garden of rocks, gray, jagged, 
worn and old.  I took a drink of water.  Normally the mother of the 
High Priestess would be with us, but as Dione’s mother had died 
many years before, another priestess came in her place.  I worried 
for a moment that our plan could fail, but my anxiety quickly 
passed as we had planned well.  Our fate was in the hands of the 
Goddess.
	I remembered the day twenty-four years ago when I had 
climbed the same summit with my lover, Demetrius, the father of 
Damon.  We had lived together and reigned for eight years over the 
village, I was High Priestess and he was my Sacred King.  I had 
grown to love Demetrius.  The old ones had warned me to beware of 
loving him because of what they knew would happen.  They told me to 
enjoy him, but not to love him.  I did both.  Demetrius and I were 
both sixteen when we were chosen for each other.  He was 
exceptionally handsome and grew stronger and more handsome with 
each year.  He kept his silky hair, which was not cut after he was 
chosen, in a long black braid.  By the time he was twenty-four the 
braid fell below his waist.  He had brown eyes that were as wild 
and innocent as those of a deer.  He was beautiful to behold - 
smooth white skin, lightly tanned by the sun; wide shoulders that 
tapered to a slender waist and hips; firm, well-muscled abdomen; 
thick, strong arms and legs.  He could run like the wind and could 
win a wrestling match with any young man in the village.  He was 
chosen because of his athletic prowess and because he was so fair, 
nothing but the best for the Goddess, and I was to be the vessel of 
the Goddess for those eight years that he was the Sacred King.  
	What I said was the law.  I took counsel from the elders, 
but I was the sacred Queen and Demetrius my Sacred King.  We lived 
in luxury and had whatever we wanted, and the people asked little 
of us except good counsel.  Each year the elders took Demetrius and 
added a tattoo to his body.  The first year they drew a black coil 
around his navel, the second year a coil was drawn on his chest 
around one of his nipples, the third year the other nipple was 
circled, in the following years other symbols of the Goddess were 
drawn on his arms and back, a bird, the horns of a bull, an egg, a 
dart.  The last year they tattooed his penis to look like a sacred 
serpent with two black eyes, a mouth and wavy lines down the 
sides.  He told me that the last one was the most painful, but he 
did not complain.  He was well aware of his status in the community 
and the importance of ritual.     
	The elders told me that in days past my love and I would 
have reigned for only one year, but things changed through the 
years and now the reign lasted longer.  I wished ours could have 
lasted longer still, not because of the power I held over the 
village, but for the sake of my sweet Demetrius. I still think of 
him and his son reminds me of him each day.

	“My love,” he told me one night, as mid-summer approached, 
the final year we were together. “I want you to know that I will 
love you always.  I know that what you must do, you do for the 
Goddess.  It has been the way of our people for generations.  But 
that does not diminish my love for you.  One day we will be 
reunited in the after-life where we will live together in joy 
forever as we have these past eight years.”
	I had said nothing to him about what was to come, it was 
forbidden, but he knew.  He had friends, the men had their network 
as we did.  
	“You know that I cannot speak of such things.”  I said, 
wanting to tell him everything.  I lay with my head on his stomach, 
twirling my finger in his pubic hair, looking at the pattern 
tattooed on his long slender penis, watching it swell to my 
touch.    
	“I know,”  he said, his beautiful brown eyes looking down 
at me, tenderly, as he ran his fingers through my hair.  “But I 
hear a lot and I want you to know how I feel.”  I think he felt 
sorry for me, knowing what I must do and knowing how much I loved 
him.  I am not sure the he would have had the strength to do what I 
did, if our roles were reversed.  He bent down to kiss me. Then we 
made love.  He was so tender, kind, and loving.  I could not bear 
to think of what was to come.  

	His mother, Anna, came to visit us often, giving us sweets, 
fruit, honey and wine.  She loved her son, and would have done 
anything for him.  She always wore a smile, and it was obvious she 
adored him.  She was good to me too, but it was because of 
Demetrius that she did what she did for us.  Toward the end of the 
last year, she came more and more often, but her smile turned to a 
look of resignation and sorrow.  I could see the knowledge and 
pain  in her eyes as she looked at Demetrius and talked to him.  
She did not want him to see her sadness, but I saw it.
	I talked to my mother and the elders.
	“Mother, how I can do it.  I love him so.”
	“The Goddess is strong with you.  As she is strong in him.  
It makes it that much more difficult, but this is at the heart of 
the mystery and you, my daughter, are the one chosen to be the 
vessel of the Goddess.  You embody Her passion and you must satisfy 
it for all of us, just as he must make the ultimate sacrifice so 
that our people can continue to live in peace and prosperity, and 
the crops will grow and the summer and spring continue to come in 
their regular cycle.”
	“Mother, has anyone ever refused?”
	“Do not speak of such things.  The Goddess hears all.  
There could be danger in it.”
	“Tell me, has anyone refused the Goddess?”
	“It is whispered that in days past, long, long ago a 
priestess refused her duty and she and her Sacred King ran away 
just before the soltice ceremony.”
	“What happened?”
	“The Goddess was very angry, crops stopped growing, there 
was winter in summer, and there was famine and great suffering for 
a year until a new priestess and her king were picked and able to 
consummate their sacred marriage, then things returned to normal.  
That was in the days of the year kings.”
	“What became of the priestess and her lover?”
	“No one knows.  They say that the Goddess hunted them down, 
hounded them, visiting sorrow and pain and suffering upon them - 
chasing them across the sea into the frozen northern country until 
they could go no further.  Then when the new priestess and her 
lover came together, she forgot them and left them to wander the 
world alone, shamed, without family, home or village.”
	I thought of my lover’s face lit at night by the oil lamp 
in our bed chamber, I considered enduring the wrath of the Goddess 
to save him.  I loved him so.  I could not understand why the 
others in the village, commoners, were able to love and live 
together in peace and harmony and grow old together with their 
lovers, but my lover and I, the Chosen, were not allowed.
	“Yours is a sacred duty. You were chosen by the Goddess to 
be her representative to our people.  For this you and your lover 
will be rewarded with eternal life in the after-life,”  my mother 
told me.
	“I don’t care about the after-life, I care about now.”
	“There, there, my sweet,”  she took my head, holding it 
against her shoulder, tenderly running her fingers through my 
hair.  I saw tears in her eyes as she watched me weep.
	“I loved your father. It was not easy for me, either.”   
	“Tell me about him.”
	“He was young and strong and beautiful like your Demetrius, 
a good athlete, quick and smart, but also a loving husband.  The 
Goddess always picks the best.  I loved him like you love your 
Demetrius.  I did not want to perform my sacred duty either, but I 
did it.  It is a great burden that we bear, but all of society 
depends upon us.  I look forward to the day when I will see him 
again in the after-life.  The first thing I will do when I see him 
is to ask for his forgiveness.”
	“Like Demetrius, he must have known, but did nothing.  The 
men are so docile and accepting, but so beautiful.”  I paused, then 
said,  “I suppose that is why the Goddess made us the superior 
sex.” 
	“Yes my sweet, you are beginning to understand the 
mystery.  It is strictly forbidden to speak of such things, but the 
men talk, just as we do.  They have their sacred duty as we do.  
They know that without it all of our people would suffer, so they 
pay the price.”
	“It seems so cruel, mother, surely there is another way.”
	“It is the only way we know.  It has been so for 
generations for as long as anyone can remember.”
	“I know. I have heard the stories. I hate them all.”
	“Now, now my sweet, it is not good to say such things,” she 
said, stroking my hair.

	In May I knew that I was pregnant, though it was supposed 
to occur on the mountain.  I did not speak of it.  There is great 
honor accorded to those who become pregnant on the mountain.  If a 
girl is born she becomes a priestess.  If it is a boy, he may 
become the sacred king.  If you have a child before, they take it 
from you.  Demetrius and I had two children, a girl and a boy, but 
they were both taken from us at birth and we were never allowed to 
see them. I could only keep a child conceived on the mountain if 
there was one.   We made love often the last few months to ensure 
that I would have a child.
	“If you have a child, please love it and think of me as you 
raise it.  If it is a male child, love him as you have loved me.”  
Demetrius told me.
	“Even if the male child is chosen by the Goddess?”
	“Even if he is chosen by the Goddess,”  he said. “Love him 
and give him as rich a life as you can, as my mother did for me.  
We will all be reunited in the after-life.”
	I started to cry with my head on his chest as we lay in bed 
together.
	“You are so brave, and the Goddess is so cruel,”  I ran my 
fingers through the black curly hairs on his chest, and felt the 
strong muscles of his chest and arms tighten around me as he held 
me.  Black tattooed coils ran around his nipples and navel.  The 
muscles of his abdomen rose and fell like desert forms, dividing 
into well defined ridges above his navel, muscled ridges spread 
along his sides, weaving in and out until they connected to the 
wide muscles of his back.  A thin line of hair ran from his navel 
down the flat part of his lower abdomen until it reached the pubic 
triangle where his genitals lay plump and naked atop the birds nest 
of curly black hairs.  I reached down and took his penis in my 
hand.  It swelled to my touch.  I watched the little black lines 
grow along the sides, then I retracted the foreskin to see the eyes 
and mouth that had been tattooed on the smooth pink glans as I 
squeezed it with my fingers.
	“There, there don’t say such things.  This has been the way 
of our people for longer than memory exists,”  he said.
	“It still doesn’t make it right.”  I said.  I kissing him 
as he put his hands on my breasts. With my tongue I covered his 
face, neck and chest with kisses, then we made love.  I felt his 
organ swell within me, engorged with his hot blood.  I wept as I 
thought of  what I must do on the summit.

	They drugged both of us the morning of the summer soltice, 
just before we were to climb the summit.  Demetrius had fasted for 
two days, drinking only water.  He was also given a purgative to 
cleanse his body of all impurities.  The night before I ritually 
shaved his face, his chest and his genitals of all hair, being 
careful not to cut him.  After I shaved his genitals, his tattooed 
penis looked even more like a serpent.  The Goddess was taking my 
lover from me.  I could not help but weep.
“There, there, you do what you must.  Remember, I will always be 
with you in love.”  He said, smiling tenderly, wiping the tears 
from my face.
“You are so brave - the Goddess is so cruel.”
“She gives us life, food, shelter, all we need.  It is time to give 
her what she desires.”
“I know, but why you?  Why must she take you from me?”
“There, there, my love.  These are the sacred mysteries we cannot 
begin to understand.  All we can do is accept our roles and live 
with them.”

We were to reach the summit at sunrise, my mother, myself, his 
mother, Anna, and one other.  The women all wore black cloaks, the 
color of the rich black earth, sacred to the Goddess and life 
itself.  Demetrius wore a cloak of white, the color of bleached 
bones and death.  At the summit was a wooden platform about ten 
feet tall, six feet long and four feet wide with a ladder leaning 
against it.  I knew what it was for.  Beside the platform was the 
great stone altar with six iron rings and a notch carved down the 
middle leading to an earthen red krater resting on the ground.  
Standing beside the altar was a bronze tripod holding a bronze dish 
over the coals of a brazier.  I knew what all these things were to 
be used for.  It had been told me many times.  I wondered how much 
Demetrius knew, surely not all of it, but perhaps.  As I said we 
had both been drugged.  He more than I, the drug was euphoric, and 
hallucinogenic, stronger than any wine I had ever drunk.  
They stripped Demetrius of his cloak and laid him out naked on the 
altar, with his arms and his legs spread out in the shape of an X.  
They tied his hands and feet with hemp rope to iron rings fixed to 
the altar, then they tightened a thin leather strap around his 
waist which was also attached to two iron rings.  Finally they tied 
a white cloth around his mouth as a gag so he could not speak or 
cry out.   The sun began to rise in the east.  A cool breeze blew 
in like a nymph from the sea.  I could see goose bumps rise on his 
pale skin in the dim morning light, as if a sea nymph was stealing 
a final caress.  We could see the sea far off in the distance.  The 
sun colored the underbellies of the clouds high above us first with 
the color of blood, then the color of fire, gradually turning to 
purple, then blue.
My mother lit the brazier and sang several prayers to the Goddess, 
then the women took their places beside the altar.  Demetrius’ 
mother took her place at the head of the altar, my mother stood at 
his left side, and the other priestess to his right.  Then they 
turned their backs to us. Demetrius looked up at me with his sweet 
eyes, even through the drug, as if to say that he understood.  I 
removed my robe and stood before him naked except for a narrow 
leather belt which held two sacred bronze knives, one straight and 
one shaped like a scythe.  The drug was an aphrodisiac as well.  I 
was aroused by the sight of him laying naked before me, bound and 
helpless on the great stone altar, as he was aroused by the sight 
of me, standing over him in my nakedness.  I threw my hair over him 
and covered him with kisses, until he was fully aroused.  Then I 
mounted him and we made love for a long time.  Tears came to my 
eyes as I thought of what I must do, though the drug did not allow 
me to think very much, it filled both of us with such passion and 
sexual longing.  I admired his beautiful organ, unsheaved, fully 
erect, and covered it with kisses before I sat on it, driving its 
full length into me, piercing me like sword.  I held onto his 
muscular arms, feeling them flex in my grip.  I bent down and 
breathed in the musky odor of his body, brushing his chest with my 
long black hair as we made love.  He finally came inside of me and 
I relaxed on top of him, panting with desire.  I knew what I must 
do next, though I did not want to do it.  I let him recover from 
our love making, again kissing him, licking the sweat which beaded 
on his chest, tasting the salt and smelling its musky odor, 
lingering for as long as I could, feeling the sea breezes caress 
both of us, relishing this, my last time with him, drinking in the 
beauty of his body.  He could say nothing but looked at me lovingly 
with his eyes.  When he became aroused again I knelt on the rock 
between his legs and took his engorged penis into my mouth.  I 
stroked it and the soft tissue of his scrotum and testicles with my 
tongue.  When he was fully aroused I took the straight knife from 
my belt and plunged it into his heart.  
I will never forget the look in his eyes.  It was of sheer horror, 
pain and betrayal despite what he had told me, his eyes said to me 
“How could you do this?”  But he died quickly, soon his eyes stared 
blank and lifeless into the sky.
Then I removed the other knife from my belt, holding it in one 
hand.  With my other hand I gently pulled his genitals away from 
his body, his penis was still fully engorged.  Then with the 
practiced skill of a surgeon I quickly cut into the soft tissue at 
the base of the organ, severing the ligament that held it to the 
bone, slicing through the cords and veins that connected the 
testicles to the body, cut along the sides of the scrotum and deep 
into his body following the root of the penis. Blood was 
everywhere, but I continued to cut until I found the end of the 
root where it forked like the tongue of a snake.  I did it for the 
Goddess, taking all of it, root and all.  I had been trained well, 
having practiced on goats.  When I had taken the entire organ, 
together with the scrotum and testicles, I ripped the knife deep 
into his thighs at the crotch, slicing the veins that fed the legs, 
blood poured from the wounds and ran down the notch cut in the 
stone into the big earthen krater at its base.  
	
	Holding his bloody genitals in my hands, I looked at them 
in horror, the organ was still firm and hot with his blood.  With 
its pearly white root and forked end, it was twice as long as what 
I had come to know outside his body.  I held the bloody scrotum and 
testicles in one hand as they dangled midway between the two ends.  
My mother took the genitals from me, and washed them in the sacred 
spring near the summit, dressing them for the ceremony.  The 
testicles and scrotum were removed and set aside, then the foreskin 
was fully retracted, revealing the little black eyes and mouth that 
had been tattooed on the glans, the skin was stretched as far down 
the shaft as possible where it was stitched, washed and the whole 
thing  oiled.  Then she gave the organ back to me.  Though it had 
been washed in the cool waters of the sacred spring, it was still 
warm from the living blood of his body.  I kissed the glistening 
pink head, then rubbed the oiled, snake-like organ along my body, 
over my breasts, and across my womb.  Through the eyes of the drug 
I thought I saw it move and the little eyes turn to look at me, its 
forked tongue hissed as it seemed to come to life in my hands.  
When I finished my dance with the sacred snake, I gave it back to 
my mother who placed it in a pan of oil where it sizzled atop the 
brazier.   
	Anna, Demetrius’s mother, stood at his head.  She removed 
the knife from his chest, closed his eyes, and washed his body with 
water from the sacred spring, then she began to anoint his body 
with sacred oils.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she tenderly 
prepared his body. Then she began to chant.
	“Glory be to thee, Almighty Goddess, our earthly mother, 
for thy, didst give thy Son, Demetrius, like Attis, Adonis, Osiris, 
Iasion and others before him to suffer death upon the altar for our 
redemption; who made a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice for 
the sins of our people, and did institute, and in Her holy name 
command us to continue, a perpetual memory of this his precious 
death and sacrifice, until his coming again.  Wherefore, we thy 
humble servants, do celebrate and make here before thy divine 
majesty, with these thy holy gifts, which we now offer unto thee, 
the memorial You hath commanded us to make; having in remembrance 
his blessed passion and precious death, his mighty resurrection and 
glorious coming again; rendering unto thee most hearty thanks for 
the innumerable benefits procured unto us by the same. And we most 
humbly beseech thee, O merciful Mother, to hear us, and to bless 
and sanctify these thy gifts, that we, receiving them in 
remembrance of this death and passion may be partakers of his most 
blessed Body and Blood.  And we earnestly desire thy Motherly 
goodness mercifully to accept this our sacrifice of praise and 
thanksgiving; most humbly beseeching thee to grant that we and all 
thy people, may obtain remission of our sins, and all other 
benefits of his passion.”
	My mother turned the organ in the dish with a fork until it 
was thoroughly cooked.  Then she took the penis, placed it on a 
platter, removed the glans with a knife, and cut the shaft into 
wafer then slices, placing them together with the glans on a silver 
palver which she gave to Anna.  My mother dipped a silver chalice 
into the krater filled with his sacred blood, and handed the 
chalice to Anna.  Demetrius’s mother took the palver and the 
chalice and raised them to the sky saying,  “The Gifts of the 
Goddess for the People of the Goddess.  Take them in remembrance 
that thy son died for you, and feed on him in your hearts by faith, 
with Thanksgiving.”  She then gave us each to drink of the blood 
and passed the palver with the sacred flesh, first to me then to 
the others. 
	The glans was for me.  The flesh in the shape of an acorn 
was hot, smooth and tender to the touch as my tongue caressed it 
for the last time, but its taste was bitter.  I was almost sick to 
my stomach thinking of what I was eating, but I knew I must not.  
So I held my stomach until the urge passed.  	
	“The Body of our Lord, which was given for thee, preserve 
they body and soul unto everlasting life.  Take and eat this in 
remembrance that he died for thee, and feed on him in thy hearts by 
faith, with thanksgiving.  The Blood of our Lord, which was shed 
for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life.  Drink 
this in remembrance that his Blood was shed for thee, and be 
thankful.  The body and blood of our Lord keep you in everlasting 
life,” Anna continued. 
	When we had eaten all the wafers of flesh, we finished 
drinking the blood from the sacred chalice.  His blood tasted 
salty, rich and thick.  The remaining blood from the krater was 
poured in a circle around the altar on the ground.  The testicles 
were wrapped in the scrotum and burned as a last offering to the 
Goddess.	 
	Anna then untied her son from the iron rings.  She finished 
cleaning his body with the sacred oils, scrapping the oils off 
after she applied them with a bronze scrapper, then she wrapped the 
body in the white cloak.  She wept openly now, though she knew that 
it was not proper.  No one said anything, how could we.  We then 
helped her hoist the lifeless body up onto the platform where Anna 
stayed to arrange it on top of the cloak.  Blood still dripped from 
his wounds, staining the cloak and the ground beneath the platform. 
Within weeks his bones would be stripped of most its flesh by 
vultures and the bird priestesses would strip what was left and 
gather the bones to place them in the sacred ossuary at the foot of 
the mountain, where the bones of the other sacred Lords were laid 
to rest.  
	All of this I had been prepared for, the sacred sacrifice, 
the sacred meal, the treatment of the body, even the vultures that 
began to circle over head - all of it down to the last detail,  
details that had been repeated generation after generation for as 
long as our people could remember.  
	Then something happened that I had not been prepared for.  
We heard a shriek from the platform and I looked up to see Anna 
take the knife she had taken from Demetrius’ heart, raise it in the 
air and plunge it deep into her breast, she then collapsed onto his 
body.  I cried out and covered my face with my hands.  My mother 
took my head and held me.
	“Sometimes the mother takes her own life, but rarely,” My 
mother said.
	“She gave no indication.”
	“She is loyal to the Goddess and did not want to disturb 
the ceremony.  But as you know she loved him dearly.  He was all 
she had.”
	Demetrius and his mother were very close.  Even when we 
were married, he looked after her, and visited her often, as she 
visited us.  She was a dear, deeply feeling person.  She dared not 
criticize the ways, but I could tell she had a hard time accepting 
them.  
	“What should we do?” I asked.
	“Leave her with her son, that is what she wants.  Her bones 
will be buried with those of her son in the sacred ossuary.”
	We then gathered our things and began our slow descent from 
the summit to the village below.  At that time I determined that if 
I had a son, it would be different.  I did not know what I would 
do, but no matter what, I would not end up like that poor woman on 
her son’s funeral bier.  
	
As luck would have it I had a son, Damon.  He was a beautiful, 
bright boy.  Though I knew his probable fate, I brought him up to 
learn all the ways of our people and be just like the other boys of 
the village.  
	As I suspected when he was sixteen, he was chosen. By then 
he was a gorgeous youth, strong, well built, athletic, intelligent 
yet tender.  He sacred wife Dione, loved him as much as I did.  We 
both privately shared our fears about the day we knew would come.  
I grew to love Dione, and she me.  Her mother had died when she was 
young.  She had been raised by the priestesses, so she grew to love 
me as she would her own mother.  We confided in each other and 
talked openly about all things, including the final day.  We did 
not know what to do, but we dreaded the day we knew must come.
	When, Damon, was twenty-three, a tinker passed through our 
mountain village from Knossos.  He told me that things had changed 
in Knossos and the coastal cities.  He told us that our ways were 
the old way and there was a new way.  In Knossos the sacred king 
rules together with the high priestess for life.  The legend was 
that there was once a sacred king named Minos.  He was very fair 
and beloved by the Goddess.  She did not want to see him sacrificed 
so she devised a plan where she came to him in the form of a cow, 
she seduced him and overpowered him with passion.  From this union 
was born a creature that was half man and half bull.  When the time 
came to sacrifice the King, the Goddess whispered to her 
priestesses that the bull-man, called the Minotaur, should be 
sacrificed instead of his father. Ever since that time a sacred 
bull is picked each year to be sacrificed in the name of the King.  
There is a grand festival where a strong young man and a beautiful 
young girl are picked to dance with the bull, releasing his fertile 
powers for all the people.  They are trained acrobats and dance 
over the bull, flipping over his horns and doing a variety of death 
defying acts to honor the Goddess.  At the end of the ceremony the 
bull is sacrificed to the Goddess.  The Sacred king lives with his 
consort, the high priestess, and no man or woman need lose their 
lives, unless one of the acrobats is killed during the ceremony, 
which has happened, but rarely.  
	I told Dione what the tinker had told me and together we 
began to make a plan, when we felt it was safe to do so we told my 
son, who knew what he knew from what he had heard from the other 
men.  It was forbidden for women to speak to men about such 
things.  When we told him Dione and I broke the sacred law.  We 
waited for the Goddess to take her revenge, but nothing happened, 
after that we felt safe to make our plans and to carry them out.  
Perhaps the Goddess herself was tired of the old ways and wanted 
all of her people to follow the ways of Knossos.  We took it as a 
sign.
	When the day arrived for our climb to the summit of the 
sacred mountain it was my duty to give the young couple the 
intoxicating liquors that would increase their passion and cloud 
their minds.  Instead of the liquors, I gave them water so their 
minds would be clear.
	
	When we climbed the sacred mountain our job was simple.  
Damon, Dione and I had to overpower the other two priestesses, tie 
them to the rings on the sacred altar and make our escape.  There 
were three of us, two being young and strong, and two of them, 
older and weaker.  It was easy.  Though they put up a struggle.  
The hardest part was looking into their eyes after we tied them and 
listening to them.
	“How could you do this.  You know all of our people will 
suffer because of what you do.  There will be drought and famine 
for a year, many will die.  The Goddess will have her revenge on 
you, she will not let you rest, she will seek you out where ever 
you go, and make your lives a living hell.”
	“There is another way, the way of Knossos.  We go there to 
discover their ways.  I believe the Goddess goes with us, I believe 
she is tired of the old ways and wants us to change, that is why 
she lets us to do this.  Otherwise she would stop us.”
	We then gagged the two and tied them to the rings of the 
altar.  Their eyes glared at us in silence, disbelief and scorn.  
We filled goat bladders with water from the sacred spring and 
climbed down the other side of the mountain heading north toward 
the coast which we would follow eastward until we found the city of 
Knossos.  No one would suspect anything for several hours until we 
failed to return.  That would give us time to make our escape.  I 
put my arm around the strong back of my son and took Dione’s hand.  
They were so young, so beautiful and so much in love.  When I had 
my doubts all I had to do was look at them and see the Goddess in 
the glow of their cheeks.  What I had done was right, the old ways 
must stop.  There was a new way and we must find it.
	
	
						End