You will notice that this story is very much like the ancient story of the abduction of Persephone, and it is for this reason that it is included on
this website.
As told in John Cuthbert Lawson, Modern Greek Folklore and Ancient Greek Religion: A Study in Survivals, University Books, New Hyde
Park, 1964, pp. 80-84.
Saint Demetra however, though lost to sight, was yet dear to the memory of the village-folk; and in spite of the devastation of old, beliefs and
legends which the much-vaunted progress and education of Greece have committed in the more civilised districts without conferring any sensible
compensation, the antiquarian Lenormant found in 1860 an old Albanian [1] priest who when once reassured that no ridicule was intended,
recited to him the following remarkable legend [2]: 'S. Demetra was an old woman of Athens, kind and good, who devoted all her little means to
feeding the poor. She had a daughter who was beautiful past all imagining; since “lady Aphrodite” (kurà 'frodíe) none had been seen so
lovely. A Turkish lord of the neighbourhood of Souti, who was a wicked man and versed in magic, saw her one day combing her hair, which was
of golden hue and reached to the very ground, and became passionately enamoured of her. He bided his time, and having found his chance of
speaking with her tried to seduce her. But she being as prudent as she was beautiful, repulsed all the miscreant's advances. Thereupon he
resolved to carry her off and put her in his harem. One Christmas night, while Demetra was at church, the Turk ('o 'agâs) forced the door
of her house, seized the girl who was at home alone, carried her off in spite of her cries of distress, and holding her in his arms leapt upon his
horse. The horse was a wonderful one; it was black in colour; from its nostrils it breathed out flames, and in one bound could pass from the East
unto the West. In an instant it had carried ravisher and victim right to the mountains of Epirus.
When the aged Demetra came back from church, she found her house broken into and her daughter gone; great was her despair. She asked her
neighbours if they knew what had become of her daughter; but they dared not tell her aught, for they feared the Turks and their vengeance. She
turned her enquiries to the tree that grew before her house; but the tree could tell her nothing. She asked the sun, but the sun could give her no
help; she asked the moon and the stars, but from them too she learnt nothing. Finally tire stork that nested on the house-top said to her: "Long
time now we have lived side by side; thou art as old as I. Listen; thou hast always been good to me, thou hast never disturbed my nest, and once
thou didst help me to drive away the bird of prey that would have carried off my nestlings. In recompense I will tell thee what I know of the fate of
thy daughter; she was carried off by a Turk mounted on a black horse, who took her towards the West. Come, I will set out with thee and we will
search for her together."
Accompanied by the stork, Demetra started; the time was winter; it was cold, and snow covered the mountains. The poor old woman was frozen
and could hardly walk; she kept asking of all those whom she met, whether they had seen her daughter, but they laughed at her or did not answer;
doors were shut in her face and entrance denied her, for men love not misery; and she went weeping and lamenting. In this manner however she
dragged her limbs as far as Lepsína (the modern form of the name Eleusis); but, arriving there, she succumbed to cold and weariness and threw
herself down by the roadside. There she would have died, but that by good luck there passed by the wife of the khodja-bachi (or head
man of the village), who had been to look after her flocks and was returning. Marigo-- such was her name-- took pity on the old woman, helped
her to rise and brought her to her husband, who was named, Nicolas [3]. The khodja-bachi was as kind as his wife; both welcomed as best
they could the poor sorrow-stricken woman, tended her and sought to console her. To reward them S. Demetra blessed their fields and gave
them fertility.
Nicolas, the khodja-bachi, had a son handsome, strong, brave, and practised, in a word the finest pallikar of all the country side.
Seeing that Demetra was in no condition to continue her journey, he offered to set to work to recover her daughter, asking only her hand in
recompense. The offer was accepted, and he set out accompanied by the faithful stork who would not abandon the undertaking.
The young man walked for many days without finding anything. At last one night, when he was in a forest right among the mountains, he caught
sight of a great bright light at some distance. Towards this he hastily bent his steps, but the point from which the light came was much further off
than he had at first imagined; the darkness had deceived him. Eventually however he arrived there; and to his great astonishment found forty
dragons lying on the ground and watching an enormous cauldron that was boiling on the fire. Undismayed by the sight, he lifted the cauldron with
one hand, lit a torch, and replaced the vessel on the fire. Astounded by such a display of strength, the dragons crowded round him and said to
him, "You who can lift with one hand a cauldron which we by our united efforts can scarcely carry, you alone are capable of carrying off a maiden
whom we have long been trying to lay our hands on, and whom we cannot seize because of the height of the tower wherein a magician keeps her
shut up." The son of the khodja-bachi of Lepsína perceived the impossibility of escape from these monsters. Accompanied by the forty
dragons, he approached the tower, and after having examined it, he asked for some large nails, which he took and drove into the wall, so as to
form a kind of ladder, and, which he kept pulling out again as he ascended to prevent the dragons from following him. Having arrived at the top
and with some difficulty entered at a small window there, he invited the dragons to ascend as he had done, one by one, which they did, thus
giving him time to kill each as it arrived while the next was climbing up, and to throw it over the other side of the tower, where there were a large
court, a splendid garden, and a fine castle. Thus rid of his dangerous guardians, he went down into the interior of the tower and found there S.
Demetra's daughter, whose beauty at once inspired him with the most ardent love.
He was kneeling at her feet when suddenly the magician appeared, and in a fury of anger threw himself upon the young man, who met him
bravely. The former was of superhuman strength, but Nicolas’ son was not inferior to him. The magician had the power to transform himself into
any thing he might choose; he changed successively into a lion, into a serpent, into a bird of prey, into fire-- hoping under some one of these
forms to wear his adversary out; but nothing could shake the courage of the young man. For three days the combat continued. The first day the
magician seemed beaten, but the next he regained his advantage; at the end of the day’s struggle he killed his young opponent, and cut his
body into four quarters, which he hung on the four sides of the tower. Then elated by his victory, he did violence to Demetra's daughter, whose
chastity he had hitherto respected. But in the night the stork flew away to a great distance to fetch a magic herb which it knew, brought it back in
its beak, and rubbed with it the young man's lips. At once the pieces of his body came together again and he revived. Great was his despair
when he learnt what had taken place after his defeat; but he only threw himself upon the magician with the greater fury the third day, to punish him
for his crime.
Once again the young man, it seemed, was on the point of being vanquished, when suddenly he conceived the happy idea of invoking the
Panagia, vowing that if victorious he would become a monk at the monastery of Phaneroméne [4]. The divine protection which he had invoked
gave him strength and he succeeded in throwing his adversary: the stork, who had aided him so much, at once attacked the fallen magician and
picked out his eyes; then with its beak pulled out a white hair noticeable among the black curls that covered his head. On this hair depended the
life of the Turkish magician, who immediately expired.
His conqueror, taking with him the girl, brought her back to Lepsína, just at the season when spring was coming and the flowers were beginning
to appear in the fields. Then he went, as he bad vowed, and shut himself up in the monastery. S. Demetra, having received back her daughter,
went away with her. What became of them afterwards, no one knows; but since that time the fields of Lepsína, thanks to the blessing of the Saint,
have not ceased to be fertile.'
Notes:
1. The population of Eleusis, as of many villages in Attica, is mainly Albanian; but they have inherited many of the old Greek superstitions and
customs.
2. Lenormant, Monographie de la voie sacrée éleusinienne, p. 399 ff.
3. “The diminutive in Albanian of Nicolas is Kolio: in the choice of this name is there not a reminiscence of that of Celeus?" --so Lenormant in a
note. The suggestion does not appear to me very probable.
4. Opposite Eleusis in Salamis.
The Albanian Legend of Saint Demetra