HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (14 page)

A leisurely walk through the winding city streets
took us to an uppermost hill overlooking the central city. I reveled in the
feeling of the breeze on my clean, scented skin. For once, the salt-fish odor
was not unwelcome in my nose. With Aesop safely at my side, I felt a moment’s
peace as the noise and bustle of the city fell away behind us. The feeling grew
the higher we climbed up the path to the poetess’ house.

“You are lovely, once again, Little Flower.” Aesop
nodded. “A fitting tribute to the Poetess Sappho and her household.”

“How could a woman rise to such a high estate?” I
asked, watching sparrows flit gaily from tree to tree. I burned with curiosity
to see this great, this powerful woman who swayed men with the strength of her
words.

“Ah, Sappho is the eldest in an aristocratic
family. Her brother Charaxus trades in wine with the East and South. The
youngest brother, Larichus, is a public cup-bearer.”

“Oh,” I said.

Aesop glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “And
her husband was a wealthy merchant who drank far too much wine and made himself
a fool. She inherited much when he died.” He winked.

I smothered a smile. That made more sense to me. I
could not wait to meet her.

Sappho’s abode was as lovely as one could imagine.
White plastered walls housed a lush courtyard with cypress, blooming shrubs and
olive trees. A fountain spouted clear burbling water mingled with the scent of the
sea to perfume the air. The path leading to the gates was well tended, with
pale golden stones that clinked as we walked. To one side, I could see a fine
garden, with ropes of grapevines in bloom drooping over the outer wall. From
somewhere within, the faint sounds of a lyre could be heard.

We announced ourselves, and waited. Finally, a
slave ushered us in the domicile.

Well and why not? A decent Grecian woman would not
show herself in public. Still, I was disappointed. I’d imagined from Aesop’s
brief tales that Sappho might be different. Surely, as a widow, she’d be
afforded more freedom to greet her own requested guests.

We left the heat of the day behind, winding our
way through shadowed halls to the center courtyard. Sunlight filtered through
the open colonnade and lent the whole abode an otherworldly air. The scent of
oleander and myrrh filtered though the portico.

Once inside, Sappho herself greeted us without
benefit of her chaperone. This was unusual and I smiled to myself, certain my
curiosity would be satisfied.

It was.

She was short and dark and lovely, even if her
figure was a little softened with age. A thin band of polished gold held
Sappho’s hair so the curls framed her forehead in a becoming fashion. Brown
eyes, deep and intelligent, appraised me openly, in a way that reminded me of
Aidne. I shivered and rubbed my hands over my arms.

“Aesop.” Sappho’s voice was low and fluid as
water. She clasped his hand in greeting. “It has been many months since I saw
you last.”

“You are as beautiful as I remember in my dreams.”
Aesop smiled.

I gaped at him. Was the fool actually flattering
her? She was pretty, I supposed, in a bird-like way. She reminded me of a
swallow. But
beautiful
? Obviously, the sea wind and the rowers’
drums had addled his brains.

I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin a
notch. Sappho’s dark eyes flickered over to me once more but she addressed only
Aesop.

“Flatterer!”She sounded pleased. “And how fares
Iadmon, your master?”

“He is my master no longer. I am free.”

Sappho did not appear surprised. “I wondered when
he would….never mind. So, you have come at once to attend me, then?” She
smiled. “I am glad for it. Come, let us have some refreshment.”

She led us, that is to say, she led Aesop to a low
cushioned bench. I simply trailed after them, feeling invisible.

“Is this your girl, Aesop?” Sappho asked at long
last, when Aesop took his time to settle his bulk onto the chaise. She signaled
for wine and fruit.

“No, she belongs to Iadmon. We’re traveling to the
stocks on Samos.”

Sappho considered me for a long moment, where to
my chagrin I found myself positioning my figure to its advantage. I don’t know
why I cared what she thought. Perhaps it was because she
had
thought, unlike most Grecian women. Or perhaps it was because I could see Aesop
gave credence to her opinion.

Either way, a little thrill ran down my spine when
she drew near and touched my shoulder with her small, soft hand. Her perfume
tickled my nostrils.

“She is…pretty,” Sappho said.

“She is more than that, as well you know, Sappho.”
Aesop’s eyes were affectionate.

“I suppose, if she did not have the look of
half-starved dog about her. See how her clothing hangs. Is she ill?”

I’d not thought to prepare a new chiton after my
old one had been let out to accommodate the babe in my womb. I’d not wanted to
make myself appealing to anyone. Disgrace burned in my cheeks.

“She is well, Sappho. It is nothing a little rest
will not cure.” Aesop bit into a fig. So, he would not parade my shame in front
of others. I blessed him silently.

“Hmm,” she mused. A burst of giggles wafted from
the hall.

Sappho clapped her hands and a pair of young women
ran to her sides. They giggled again as she held out her hands to each and
kissed them lightly on the mouth. A third ambled into the room with a lyre and
a dreamy expression.

“They are lovely girls, all of them, Sappho,”
Aesop said. He sucked noisily on the fig.

“Erinna of Telos and Damophyla of Pamphylia. Of
course, my own daughter, Kleis, you know.” She indicated the girl with the lyre
at the last. “But Anaktoria has left us, and I feel her absence keenly.” Sappho’s
eyes grew moist.

“You feel all things keenly, poetess. Especially
matters of love.”

“And why should I not, when all that is noble in
life is touched by the hand of the Cyprian?” Just like that, her tears
evaporated, replaced by a beatific smile.

“So you still sing to your goddess Aphrodite,
then?” Aesop asked. “Well, you are a good servant of that one’s fickle
attention.” Aesop reclined further in his chaise, his chin resting on his left
elbow.

“Bite your tongue, Fabulist, lest you bring shame
to my household!” Sappho scolded, but her eyes twinkled. “I say it is what one
loves, that does them credit in the eyes of the gods. Is it not so? Did not
Helen leave behind her family, her fortune, even her own child for the sake of
him she loved? Ah, one day I shall write of this and you will see I speak
true.”

I found myself infused with the excitement of this
discourse, but Aesop waved away the servants who hovered over him with a measure
of laconic skepticism.

“She did and found herself cursed for it,” Aesop
retorted. “You say love is mightier than the hand of man? This insipid love
that poets and women croon and fawn over and call themselves wiser for the pain
of it?” Aesop shook his head. “It is not so.”

“Pah,” Sappho shooed away his disbelief with a
slim hand. “You are a man, yourself, so how can you judge? Tell me, on what do
you waste your love? An army of black horsemen? A fleet of fine ships? A jug of
wine?”

Oh, the sharp, silvered tongue of this poetess! Would
that I was like her. I thought perhaps I was expected to stay silent, but as is
ever my nature, I could not. I might look like a starved cur, but I could nip
and bark as well as she.

“Neither, lady,” I ventured. “It is knowledge, or
the pursuit of it, that strikes fervor in his heart.”

At this, both Aesop and Sappho paused.

Then Aesop threw his head back and howled with
laughter. I saw Sappho eye me with renewed interest, and I confess I burned a
little under her gaze.

“The girl speaks truly, Sappho.” Aesop wiped at
his eyes. “She knows me well.”

“If what she speaks is so, then I shall pray one
day you may experience the
true
gifts of Aphrodite.” Sappho gave me a
lingering, approving glance. “We’ve composed new
epithalamia
to
be sung at the marriage of Tisias,” she said, changing the subject. “Would you
care to hear it?”

Aesop nodded his approval, and the girls sang as
Kleis accompanied them on the lyre. I must say it was an astounding rendition,
although I was but a slave and unused to hearing such niceties, save what bits
I caught when Iadmon entertained. It reminded me a little of the
hetaerae
.
I thought of that poor dead woman whose
peplos
I’d cherished and
I shivered.

When the music ended, Sappho stood before me. I had
to clench the muscles in my legs and back not to shiver again.

“You did not like the hymn?” she asked, with a
pert frown.

I risked a glance at Aesop who seemed overly
interested in spitting the seeds of his fig onto a silver platter.

“Who is to say I did not, great lady?” I replied
and met her eyes. To my great surprise, her face lit up.

“So,” said she. “A question for a question.”

Her languid eyes flickered at Aesop and he preened
for all the world like the prize cockerel we’d carted from Abdera. At that,
Sappho laughed and clasped my hand between her soft, cool palms, and bade me
sit by her feet.

I did not know if I liked her approval or not, but
it made the next hours pass easier. The girls sang and played for us again. I
watched Sappho as she bantered and jested with Aesop. Her eyes were on me often
enough, especially when I was asked to dance for them, and I daresay I should
have guessed what was to come, but I did not.

Sappho herself played the lyre, while I danced.

The music was low and melodic, much like the voice
of the Poetess. She played well, and I did my best to honor it with my body. I
think, perhaps, Lukra would’ve approved.

Afterwards, the girls, Erinna and Damophyla, grew
bored with us and wandered away. I marveled at their freedom to do so. How long
had it been since I had the freedom to wander where I wished? To come and go as
I pleased without fear of retribution or displeasure?

Sappho showed them no displeasure but released
their supple wrists and hands as they slid from her grasp and meandered away. Their
intertwined limbs reminded me of my near sister, Mara, and my heart clenched. I
wondered how she’d fared after I’d left the temple.

Aesop shielded his eyes with his palm and checked
the sky. “The hour grows late, great Sappho. Moreover, you have graced us with
your hospitality and your presence. We should go before the dinner hour.” He
stood and brushed the crumbs from his beard, motioning for me to prepare to
depart.

Sappho rose gracefully from her chaise. “If you
say, dear Aesop. But, I have no cause to retire just yet. I beg you to stay a
moment.”

Aesop’s brows drew together. I could sense this
was most unplanned.

“I find myself drawn to this girl,” Sappho said,
moving to stand by me. “She is young and clever. I have a need for such a girl
at present. Will you sell her to me?”

I was dumbstruck. When sense returned to me, I
turned to find Aesop considering Sappho with an expression not unlike my own. He
shook his head.

“I cannot, fair poetess. She is bound for Xanthes
the Samian, by order of Iadmon himself.” He placed a hand in the small of my
back and drew me nearer to the colonnade.

“To what end? One sale is as good as another. There
is somewhat about her expression--there, you see it?--in the eyes. I could
learn to love such a face, I think. You will not deny me.” She smiled sweetly,
very sweetly indeed.

Aesop furrowed his brow further. “I cannot, dear
lady. I gave my word.”

“Then, take the words back again. For
me
.” This
time Sappho’s smile did not quite reach her eyes.

“No, Poetess, I cannot take back my promise.” Aesop
gave a slight bow. “Not even for you. My words are all of what I am.”

Sappho reached over and fingered a lock of my
hair. I did not dare to draw back from her touch. Her eyes roamed my face, as
if to memorize it.

“And what say you? Will you be sent to warm some
man’s bed, to bear him sons while Aphrodite’s songbird rejoices at the mere
sight of you?” She sounded a touch scornful, and her brow arched like a
sparrow’s wing.

 “You cannot ask me, for I am another man’s
property.” The room grew unaccountably warm. I felt perspiration bead my upper
lip as I followed Aesop to the gates.

“What can I say to persuade you both?” asked
Sappho, following after us with her hands on her hips. “Come, Aesop, you are a
man of some reputed intelligence. Give me this girl, for my heart’s sake, if
not your purse’s. Let me spare her from the childbirth grave and I shall love
her with all the music in my soul.”

Though a life of beauty and comfort tantalized me,
I found I did not trust this woman. I did not like the way she dismissed
Aesop’s excuses, as if they had no merit whatsoever. She meant to have her way
with me, regardless of objections. How did that make her any different than The
Swine, save that she had no phallus to spear me with? I suspected the weapon of
her intellect would be sharp enough.

“I will bear no son of Greece, Lady.” I could not
halt the rush of words from my heedless tongue as we crossed the threshold out
of her abode. I heard the crash of the ocean in my ears and the cry of sea
birds overhead. It made me dizzy. “I have made my bargain with the gods. My
womb shall close to all man’s seed until Love should open it. Can your fine
words do any less for my heart?”

Sappho blanched at my speech.

“You dare…?” she whispered as she trailed us to
the entrance of her lair. “You dare to speak to me of love? I am beloved by the
Cyprian! I speak with her voice, her soul, her very heart. You are naught but a
mote of dust buffeted in Aphrodite’s breath!”