Quoted By:
The next morning, you are roused at dawn by the same pair of smiling young Apollonian acolytes, and then clothed in fresh, white cloak and chiton. They provide you with a simple, light breakfast of honeyed bread, grains and fruits. As you dine, they demonstrate the γερανός – the high-stepping, twisting crane dance that Theseus had performed with the youths rescued from the Minotaur of Crete. It’s a complicated action – spinning and turning, with many advancing steps and quick retreats backwards. They explain that the dance itself is meant to honor Theseus’ risky journey into the Labyrinth and his triumphant return, and the dancing motions represent the many paths of the maze.
“But why call this the crane dance?” you ask, puzzled.
“Lord Nikandros – this is because the bird travels to the entrances of the underworld on the far east and west edges of the world. Similarly, Theseus’ journey mirrors a man’s descent into death and into the realm of the Host of Many, and the dance celebrates his victorious return.”
Once you’ve dined, done your best to learn the dance, and said your morning prayers to the immortal gods (taking special care to pay your respect to Apollo), they bring you into the largest of the tents upon the hillside – this one you have not yet been within.
Ranks of devotees of the Apollo are singing hymnals in praise across the tent, arranged in twelve groups of perhaps ten apiece, and you join your fellow competitors, who are seated upon a long bench off-center. The hymnal singers are led by King Anios himself, his ringing voice setting the pace and pitch of the chorus. It is clear that you are meant to sit in silence, and so you bow your head alongside Menelaus and Palamedes. You steal glimpses around the tent as you do this, and notice that this particular tent is lavishly decorated with standing friezes and mosaics of Apollo’s life – the scene of his birth here on Delos, surrounded by Leto, Artemis and Eileithyia, goddess of mercy and childbirth; the slaying of the giant Tityos and also of the Cyclopes who had fashioned the lightning bolt that had murdered his son, Asclepius. Another large frieze depicts the flaying of the satyr Marsyas, who had unwisely lost to Apollo to a contest of flute-playing. Above you, gilded cages of enormous size hold ravens of impressive size, who watch silently from their perches – unsettling. On the far side of the tent, you are surprised to see a small pond, containing an especially large and majestic swan – listening to the hymns with regal authority. You notice that there is another passage out of the tent on the far-side, a second entrance, currently closed.
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