At the very end of the official procession came the Megabyzoi, a great many of them, all wearing bright yellow robes and headdresses. Some carried sacred objects, including knives and axes for sacrifice, while others waved burning bundles of incense. The smoke wafted over the vast crowd of Ephesians and pilgrims that moved forward to follow the procession.
“Aren’t the Megabyzoi eunuchs?” I said, recalling something I’d once heard and trying to get a better look at the priests over the heads of the crowd.
Eutropius and Mnason both laughed, and Antipater gave me an indulgent smile. “Once upon a time, that was indeed the case,” he said. “But your information is a few centuries out of date, Gordianus. The ritual castration of the priests of Artemis ended many generations ago. Even so, the goddess still demands that those in her service, both male and female, be sexually pure. Though his manhood remains intact, each Megabyzus takes a vow to remain unmarried and celibate for as long as he serves in the priesthood of Artemis.”
“That seems practical,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“With all the wealth that flows into the temple coffers, it’s probably a good thing that the priests aren’t married men. Otherwise, they might be tempted to put the interests of their children ahead of their sacred service.”
“Gordianus is wise for his years,” said Eutropius. “What father doesn’t do all he can for his child? The chastity of the Megabyzoi should, in theory, make them less greedy. But sometimes I think it only makes them grumpier. And it certainly doesn’t keep them from meddling in politics.”
Mnason raised an eyebrow, glanced at me, then gestured to his friend to be quiet. Did he feel the need to be discreet because I was Roman?
Antipater ignored them. “How can I explain this to you, Gordianus? Think of the Roman goddess Vesta, and how vital it is for the well-being of Rome that the Vestals maintain their virginity. So it is with Ephesian Artemis. Chastity is absolutely essential for those who serve her, and not just her priests, or the women who work in the temple, called hierodules. All the girls who dance in the procession today must be virgins. Indeed, no freeborn female who is not a virgin may so much as step foot inside the Temple of Artemis, upon pain of death.”
We followed the procession out of the square and down a broad, paved street called the Sacred Way, lit all along its length with torches. After we passed though a broad gate in the city’s northern wall, these torches were set farther apart and in the intervening patches of deep shadow I could see the starry sky above our heads.
The Sacred Way took us gradually downhill. In the valley ahead, at the end of the winding line of torches, I saw our destination—the great Temple of Artemis. A huge crowd of pilgrims, many carrying torches, had already gathered at the temple to welcome the procession. The structure had the unearthly appearance of a vast, rectangular forest of glowing columns afloat in a pool of light. Though it was still almost a mile away, the temple already looked enormous. Antipater had told me it was the largest temple ever built by the Greeks, four times the size of the famous Parthenon atop the Acropolis in Athens.
The temple loomed larger with each step I took. I was astonished by the perfect beauty of the place. Gleaming marble steps led up to the broad porch. The massive walls of the sanctuary were surrounded by a double row of columns at least sixty feet high. White marble predominated, but many of the sculptural details had been highlighted with red, blue, or yellow paint, as well as touches of gleaming gold.
Even to my untrained and untraveled eye, the elegance of the columns was breathtaking. The bases were decorated with elaborate carvings, and each of the capitals ended in a graceful spiral curve to either side.
“It was here that the order of columns called Ionic originated,” said Antipater, following my gaze. “The architects deliberately imbued the columns with feminine attributes. Thus you see that the stacked marble drums ascend not to a plain, unadorned capital, but to those elegant whorls on either side, which mimic a woman’s curls. The whole length of each column is fluted with shallow channels, in imitation of the pleats of a woman’s gown. The proportion of the height to the circumference and the way each column gently tapers is also meant to give them a feminine delicacy.”
My eyes followed the columns to the pediment high above the porch, where I saw something I was not used to seeing in a temple—a tall, open window with an elaborate frame around it. I assumed it was there to admit light in the daytime, but as I was about to discover, this window had a far more important purpose.
In front of the temple, some distance from the steps, a low wall enclosed an elegantly carved altar for sacrificing animals. As the procession arrived before the temple, some of the yellow-robed Megabyzoi broke away from the larger contingent and took up places at this altar, producing ceremonial daggers, ropes for holding down the animals, butchering knives and axes, and other implements for the sacrifices. Other Megabyzoi stoked the pyres upon which the carved and spitted meat would be roasted. Others unloaded the statue of Artemis from the cart, carried her up the steps and into the temple. Yet another group of priests unyoked the garlanded bulls that had pulled the cart and led them toward the altar. A great many other animals, including sheep, goats, and oxen, were already being held in pens in the enclosure. They were to be sacrificed and roasted in the course of the evening, to satiate the appetite of the vast crowd.
The first of the bulls was led up a short ramp onto the altar, pushed to its side, and securely trussed. Megabyzoi intoned prayers to Artemis and walked among the crowd, carrying bowls of smoking incense. One of the priests, apparently the foremost among them to judge by the special embroidery on his robe and the height of his headdress, mounted a platform beside the altar where everyone in the crowd could see him. He raised his arms aloft.
“That’s Theotimus,” whispered Eutropius to Antipater, “head priest of the Megabyzoi.” There was an edge in his voice, and he scowled as he gazed at the priest. So did Mnason.
The musicians ceased their playing. The girls stopped dancing. The crowd fell silent.
“People of Ephesus,” cried Theotimus, “welcomed visitors, all who have gathered here for the love and adoration of the goddess—the sacrifices are ready to begin. If our rituals in your honor are pleasing to you, great Artemis—protector of virgins, supreme huntress, patron of wild places, benefactor since its beginning of the grateful city of Ephesus—we beg you, Artemis, to step forth and witness our propitiations to you.”
The expectant crowd turned its gaze from the priest to the window set high in the temple. From within came a flicker of light, and then the goddess appeared at the window, her outstretched hands open in a gesture of acceptance. The apparition was so uncanny that it took me a moment to realize that I was seeing the statue that had been paraded in the cart. Unless Artemis had propelled herself, the priests had somehow managed to get the image all the way up to the window. Her veil had been removed and her gilded face shone brightly, reflecting the light of the torches and the roasting pyres around the altar.
As the crowd erupted in cheers, Theotimus strode to the altar, raised a dagger, and slashed the bull’s throat. The bound creature kicked and thrashed, then fell limp. With a single, deft movement, the Megabyzus sliced off the bull’s testicles and held them aloft. The crowd again erupted in cheers.
“For Artemis!” shouted Theotimus, and others took up the cry: “For Artemis!”
Eutropius saw the dumbfounded expression on my face. I was used to seeing animal sacrifices, but I had never witnessed a postmortem castration. “The sacred testes are reserved for the virgin goddess; the rest will be for us,” said my host matter-of-factly. “I’m rather partial to the meat of the flank, especially if it’s nicely grilled.”