Curiosity

Upon the steps of the mighty Parthenon, so stood Polias, the high priestess of the Greeks’ golden age: poised tall, with a spear in hand, exuding her wisdom to a crowd of eager Athenians.

“Curiosity is a magnificent tool. The wise Athena favors those who strive for knowledge. For wisdom is given to the Greek man with the will to ask. However, curiosity may grow too powerful, and be used not for the sake of wisdom, but for the greed of lesser men, who grasp and thrash at that which is not theirs. Beware the fury of Athena.”

This is the tragedy of Periagolos, the unwise.

***

Will of wondrous wings wain not.
See that vile be caught.
Pillar, wall, knot,
No hiding can be bought.
Deep desires corrode and rot. 

Council of three, glean his plea,
class and bronze he wish to see.
Nay be the answer.
Spear to ear, an eager edge,
A final thought from the dredge.
Nay be the answer.
Virgin young, headache stung,
She demands his neck be wrung.
Nay be the answer.

Three enraged, out of luck.
How shall justice be struck?
The owl peers through truthful eyes,
discern its subject’s lies.
Tamper the heart,
cut its strides.

Yea be the answer.

Back to life, he scamper.
Gone is Periagolos the dancer.
Once he was a ranter,
No more does he answer.

***

“What is it that lies beyond the coveting columns?” Periagolos asked his instructor, Daskalos, as they make their way to the Parthenon for the priestesses’ sermon. 

“To that question, Periagolos, I have no answer. If I did, I would not share. The strength of the gods is not something to be tested, for it can be devastating for a simple Greek such as yourself.”

“Why then can the priestesses, Polias, Plyntrides, and the young virgin Arrephoria enter the temple of Athena so freely, when we cannot?” 

“Can’t you see? They have given up their worldly possessions and pleasures in which we so freely indulge. They have given their lives to the gods, so that we may hear their words of wisdom. You cannot have it two ways, or you will be split, and broken.”

“They are not so special. Perhaps I want to speak with Athena.”

“Be careful what you wish for, boy. I will hear no more of this nonsense. We are near the Parthenon. Release this from your mind, or may the Gods do it for you.” 

Periagolos walked in shunned silence from his teacher. Their robes draped under the warm watch of Apollo. Sadness took him until his friend, Kakó, appeared.

“Where are we off to?”

Periagolos was first startled, then overjoyed to see his friend. Kakó was always sneaking out of class, indulging in the drink of Dionysus. Kakó brought with him times of pleasure and chaos.

Periagolos and Kakó began dancing in the street at their reunion. 

“It’s been many days, where have you been?”

“A blur, I tell you. A blur of nights and of days that leaves me with a gift.”

“A gift? What for?”

“A gift for a gift, my friend. I do not quickly forget your showing me Daskalos’ wine cellar!” 

They laughed. 

“A chiefly find indeed. Now tell me, what will this gift be?”

Kakó felt around his wavy robes, finally producing a rope tied in an unnatural shape. Periagolos scratched his head. 

“I see you are lost.”

“Indeed, tell me what it is you bring me?” 

“A knot, a special knot”—Kakó glanced around to ensure no others would hear— “that can hide you from the Gods.”

Periagolos gasped, “How came you by this?” 

“A strange occurrence, I tell you. A dark region I found myself in, to unsavory folk. When a man named Dolus beckoned me over. He sold me this knot! Claiming it would shroud me from the scrying of the gods.”

“This sounds like folly.”

“So I thought as well! But, you would not believe all I have gotten away with while it’s been in my possession.” Kakó chuckled, thinking of his devious acts. 

“If what you say is true, then I must have it.”

“And what shall you do with it?”

“I will do what no other simple Greek has done before. I will enter the Parthenon.”

Periagolos, with the new confidence of the knot, and the agility of his youth, meandered through the crowd before the steps of the Parthenon. High priestess Polias, her hand, Plyntrides, and the virgin Arrephoria pushed the enormous door open only a crack. They stepped past the shrouding columns and began addressing the Athenians. The Priestesss’s voice boomed with divine authority. She preached, relaying what wisdom Athena bestowed upon her.

Periagolos snuck past them, staying along the outer wall. Then up he went, hugging the columns that once kept secrets from him. Now they concealed his person. The door was near, practically within reach. Answers were so close. Periagolos was lost to his great need to know. Holding his breath, and stepping quietly, Periagolos slipped in through the door unnoticed. 

Struck instantly with a new air, Periagolos lost his own. The Parthenon seemed even larger on the inside than it was on the outside. Rich sunlight permeated the ceiling and shone upon the statue of Athena. She held an owl in her right hand and a glimmering spear in her left. The statue was made from more riches than he’d ever known. He could almost hear her thinking, see her breath. An eerie and unexplainable shock came over him. He started towards the statue in a daze. 

Distantly, he heard the door close with an echo between the interior columns. Periagolos felt the divine presence intensify. Quickly, he dove out of sight behind a column. 

“Athena, our great Goddess of wisdom, we have shared what you wished of us.” Polias led the way through the hall with rhythmic clangs of her spear to the marble. 

“You have done well, Polias.” Out came an enthralling voice, directly into the minds of those present, including Periagolos. He felt the immense pressure Zeus must have felt while birthing Athena from his forehead. 

“However, a great folly has been made by one Periagolos.”

“What is it you mean, Athena?”

“A knot of deceit, and a devious mind has entered my sacred place.”

Periagolos turned to leave but was immediately met by Polias and her spear. How she appeared there, he did not know. Periagolos fell to the marble and tried to scramble away. 

“Who are you to think that you could enter the Parthenon of Athens?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Answer me!” she bellowed. 

“Peri-Periagolos.”

“And why have you entered?” Pyntrides appeared behind Polias with a level and calm demeanor. 

“I yearned to see the great halls of Athena. I needed to know what was hidden behind the columns.”

“You knew it was forbidden, yes?”Arrephoria said. 

Periagolos nodded. “I do apologize. Please, I beg you, let me go. I will tell none of what I saw this day. Even though it exceeds all the beauty I have known.” Periagolos could not help but steal glances at the colossal statue of Athena. 

“Flattery will not save you now.” Polias readied her spear. 

“Wait,” Pyntrides interrupted. “A quick death is too little a penalty. He has seen much, I say we gouge his eyes so that he may perceive nothing hereafter.”

Periagolos trembled. 

“Indeed,” Polias agreed. “However, what he has seen is nothing to what he has heard. The Goddess herself. Only a chosen few may hear her will. I say we slice his ears so that he may never hear again.” Polias brought the sharp edge of the spear to Periagolos’ head as he started to weep. 

“No, no, please! You can’t. I must see and I dearly like to hear, please—” His begging and whining was to the great discomfort of Arrephoria. 

“His tongue flaps much, my sisters. Should we not cut it loose so that he may not tell what he’s seen or heard?” Polias agreed pridefully. They reached down his throat and pulled forth his tongue. Periagolos squirmed as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Enough!” The will of Athena rang clear. 

The priestesses ceased promptly. 

“Yes, Goddess… what then shall be his punishment if not this?”

“You wish to quell a snake’s appetite to kill, you remove its teeth. The serpent will find a way to choke its victims. You try to stop a bat’s nuisance by taking their vision, louder they will become. You attempt to stop a mouse from eating from your pantry, you take its nose. Still, your rations go missing.”

Periagolos—struck stone-still—watched the massive gold statue of Athena move. In one flutter, she met him. The priestesses knelt in respect as the Goddess’ hand reached out, touching Periagolos’ forehead. 

“To level this bush, go not for the leaves, nor branches. One must dig for the very root.” The shined marble reflected the shimmering gold from Athena as it grew in divinity, light dominating the hall. 

“I, Athena, Goddess of wisdom, daughter of Zeus, hereby strip you of your curiosity.”

***

Will of wondrous wings wain not
Truth, Periagolos there got
A deeper power, than
previously sought.
Now remains a
thoughtless face
dried with
snot.

***

Periagolos found returning to his life more difficult than entering the Parthenon. Kakó came to him with questions galore. But Periagolos no longer wished to speak with him. The topics were utterly boring. It would seem that all things grew mundane, leaving Periagolos’ mind blank. 

Daskalos taught, but Periagolos did not listen. His friends drank, danced, and were merry. Still, Periagolos did not budge.

As time went on, his generation of Greeks found love, settled and made legacies. Periagolos did not. He lived alone for his long and dreadful existence until his mind had gone. 

He passed into memory, and lesson, so that all may remember the tragedy of Periagolos the unwise.