goddess of victory. Some say that Phidias took his inspiration from the Iliad ; when Zeus merely nodded his head, says Homer, the heavens trembled and ‘all Olympus to the center shook.’ Others think that Phidias must have beheld Zeus with his own eyes."
"I can believe it!” I whispered.
"Now, if you will follow me back toward the antechamber, we shall ascend to the gallery, and you will be privileged to behold the statue at even closer quarters."
As we made our way up a narrow spiral staircase in single file, my attention was briefly drawn from the statue. In a daze I took in the sumptuous architectural details of the temple interior. This was a smaller structure than the great Temple of Artemis in Ephesus, the first of the Wonders I had visited, but in its own way it was equally impressive. What amazing wealth these Greeks had accumulated in previous centuries, and what remarkable artists and engineers had arisen among them!
When we reached the gallery I paused to lean over the parapet and look down at the long reflecting pool, which seen from above was utterly black. Another group of tourists had just entered and were gazing in awe at the statue.
Antipater hissed at me, and I hastened to join the rest of our group at the western end of the gallery. Our guide was silent, which seemed appropriate, for no words could have adequately captured the sensation of standing so near the god. Pressed against the parapet, I stood as close as any mortal could to the face of Zeus Almighty. Had the god turned his head, we would have been eye to eye. Even seen this close, the details of his golden beard, ivory flesh, and lapis eyes were uncanny. Had he blinked, or raised his mighty chest with a sigh, or shaken his head to unloose the golden curls upon his shoulders, I would not have been surprised, for in that moment I had no doubt that the vessel created by Phidias did in fact contain the god.
I flinched, for by the flickering light I perceived a tremor of intent. Zeus was about to turn his face to mine! I braced myself, for were the god to speak, his voice would surely be as deafening as a thunderclap.
Then I blinked, and realized the movement I perceived had been an illusion, for no one around me had reacted to it, and the statue remained just as it was. Fool! I said to myself. Everyone knows the gods in temples never speak aloud. They express themselves through oracles, or dreams, or flights of birds that only augurs can decipher .
Still, as the tour reached its end and the guide led us back to the entrance, I kept looking over my shoulder, feeling the gaze of Zeus upon me.
As we exited the temple and reemerged into daylight, I blinked and shook my head, as if awakening from a dream. The guide seemed unfazed. After all, he gave this tour many times each day, and was privileged to actually touch the statue to anoint the ivory with oil. He handed each of us a small wooden disk. “Use it today, and this token will allow you to visit the workshop of Phidias for half the usual donation requested. The workshop still contains the actual tools and molds used by the master sculptor and his assistants."
"Shall we press on to see the workshop, Gordianus?” said Antipater.
I sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I think I should lie down for a while. It must be the heat.” I felt a bit chagrinned, because it was usually Antipater who grew tired first.
"Very well, let's return to our host's pavilion. The crowd will be up and milling about until long past sundown, but there's no reason we shouldn't go to bed early."
"Should we buy a bit of food from one of the vendors, so as to have something to eat later?"
"Oh, I suspect there will be plenty to eat and drink in the pavilion, any time we need it. Our host can afford to be generous."
The sun was low on the horizon as we crossed the Altis. The statues all around cast long shadows. One of the longest was that of a warrior atop a horse. His Roman armor made him conspicuous among
"I can believe it!” I whispered.
"Now, if you will follow me back toward the antechamber, we shall ascend to the gallery, and you will be privileged to behold the statue at even closer quarters."
As we made our way up a narrow spiral staircase in single file, my attention was briefly drawn from the statue. In a daze I took in the sumptuous architectural details of the temple interior. This was a smaller structure than the great Temple of Artemis in Ephesus, the first of the Wonders I had visited, but in its own way it was equally impressive. What amazing wealth these Greeks had accumulated in previous centuries, and what remarkable artists and engineers had arisen among them!
When we reached the gallery I paused to lean over the parapet and look down at the long reflecting pool, which seen from above was utterly black. Another group of tourists had just entered and were gazing in awe at the statue.
Antipater hissed at me, and I hastened to join the rest of our group at the western end of the gallery. Our guide was silent, which seemed appropriate, for no words could have adequately captured the sensation of standing so near the god. Pressed against the parapet, I stood as close as any mortal could to the face of Zeus Almighty. Had the god turned his head, we would have been eye to eye. Even seen this close, the details of his golden beard, ivory flesh, and lapis eyes were uncanny. Had he blinked, or raised his mighty chest with a sigh, or shaken his head to unloose the golden curls upon his shoulders, I would not have been surprised, for in that moment I had no doubt that the vessel created by Phidias did in fact contain the god.
I flinched, for by the flickering light I perceived a tremor of intent. Zeus was about to turn his face to mine! I braced myself, for were the god to speak, his voice would surely be as deafening as a thunderclap.
Then I blinked, and realized the movement I perceived had been an illusion, for no one around me had reacted to it, and the statue remained just as it was. Fool! I said to myself. Everyone knows the gods in temples never speak aloud. They express themselves through oracles, or dreams, or flights of birds that only augurs can decipher .
Still, as the tour reached its end and the guide led us back to the entrance, I kept looking over my shoulder, feeling the gaze of Zeus upon me.
As we exited the temple and reemerged into daylight, I blinked and shook my head, as if awakening from a dream. The guide seemed unfazed. After all, he gave this tour many times each day, and was privileged to actually touch the statue to anoint the ivory with oil. He handed each of us a small wooden disk. “Use it today, and this token will allow you to visit the workshop of Phidias for half the usual donation requested. The workshop still contains the actual tools and molds used by the master sculptor and his assistants."
"Shall we press on to see the workshop, Gordianus?” said Antipater.
I sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I think I should lie down for a while. It must be the heat.” I felt a bit chagrinned, because it was usually Antipater who grew tired first.
"Very well, let's return to our host's pavilion. The crowd will be up and milling about until long past sundown, but there's no reason we shouldn't go to bed early."
"Should we buy a bit of food from one of the vendors, so as to have something to eat later?"
"Oh, I suspect there will be plenty to eat and drink in the pavilion, any time we need it. Our host can afford to be generous."
The sun was low on the horizon as we crossed the Altis. The statues all around cast long shadows. One of the longest was that of a warrior atop a horse. His Roman armor made him conspicuous among
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