HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (19 page)

Months, I thought. And what was to become of me?

“Am I to go with you?” I packed the last of his
belongings.

Charaxus thought for a moment. “Such a journey
will not be short, nor pleasurable. And I wish only to give you pleasures. Best
that you stay here and mind my household, safely away from the clutches of
those who would steal you away.”

“Oh, please let me come,” I begged. I did not want
to be left alone in a strange land. What if he should never return? Travel was
difficult even in the best of places, and Charaxus was certainly not a young
man. “I could wait for you in Naukratis if there is no room for me aboard the
ship to Lesbos.”

“What has gotten into you, Petal?” He rubbed his
chin. “No,” he decided. “I dare not leave you in the port city unprotected. There
has been talk of trouble, especially with the damned Persians sending
emissaries every other week between Egypt and Greece. Besides, some wiser man
than I could capture you and sell you off for a fortune, instead of spending
one to keep you.”

I paused. My fingers quivered on the knot of the
satchel.

“But you were planning to sell me yourself.” I
straightened and faced him. “To Pharaoh.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “Whatever gave
you that idea?”

“But you…you said…” I tried to remember what he’d
said. Had he stated forthright he planned to sell me? I couldn’t remember. “You
bought me clothing and adornments,” I finished lamely.

“I’d have purchased them for you in any case.” He
kissed me on the cheek and bent to shoulder his belongings. “I merely wanted to
display the best of my treasure to Pharaoh. I will never give you up.”

I barely saw him off. My mind was fixed on his
words.

He never meant to sell me.
And he meant
never to give me up.

The joy I felt and not being sold to the Pharaoh
was tainted by the knowledge that Charaxus also never meant to free me. What
could it mean when a Greek master should refuse his slave the chance to buy
back her own freedom? My heart was crushed.

Oh, how I was tired of being another man’s
property to do with as he wished. Me, the child of a great warrior and a Bacchae.
Me, who was trained to walk the paths of the gods. Someday, I vowed that I
would find a way to live free as my father bade me.

Please Lady
, I prayed.
One
day, let it be so
.

Outside, I heard a bird cry. I hoped it would carry
my words to my Golden Lady that she might deliver me as she had once before.

For the sake of my father’s dying wish, I wished
it to be so.

The next morning, when Charaxus boarded the ship
to Naukratis, I raised my hand and dutifully waved my scented scarf until the
ship disappeared from view. In truth, I could not wait to see him gone. Then I
followed the other slaves back to our rented abode. He would be away some many
long months, if he returned at all. In his absence, I would have the run of the
household and would speak in his name—with his coffers to support me.

For the first time in almost five years since
becoming a slave, I would live on my own. I scuffed the toes of my slippers on
the sandy pavers, and felt almost free.

The first month since Charaxus’ departure, I spent
exploring Naukratis. I brought offerings of wine and emmer wheat to the temple
of Neit and admired the graceful paintings and hieroglyphs, many of which I
recognized. Still, I despaired over the language barrier that separated me from
the Egyptian people. For though I no longer feared Charaxus would sell me, I
was still determined to somehow regain my freedom. A free woman would need to
survive, and to find purchase back to Greece, so I must dedicate myself to
learning everything I could in preparation for that day.

I asked Rada, a young, pretty servant who spoke
some Greek, to teach me to speak Egyptian. She laughed at first, but when she
saw I asked in earnest, she taught me a few common words. I learned the names
for some of the fruits and some animals and plants. I learned “go” and “stop”. Mostly,
I listened to her wonderful purring voice and tried to emulate the sounds she
made. I do not know if I was accurate. There are a few throaty inflections that
sounded more like a hacking cough than a syllable. A Thracian tongue isn’t made
for such sounds, but I did try.

Another two months passed. My Egyptian was getting
quite good. Sometimes Rada came with me to the
agora
, and I would
practice my new words. I made a few mistakes, like the time I meant to ask for
an onion and was rewarded with a sack of sesame instead, but I was much improved.
And I began to feel like a true citizen of Sais, as I had nothing else with
which to occupy my time, save to keep the household and wait for word from
Charaxus.

At least, Rada reminded me a little of Mara.

She was a young woman from a nearby village.
Charaxus had hired her out, hoping to keep me company. Rada was a good
domestic, and like any concubine, attended to my grooming and such small tasks
as I saw fit to give her. I wondered if she could ever be as close to me as my
near-sister. Mara would be a Bacchae, by now. I felt a stab of jealousy prick
my heart and I mumbled a hasty prayer for forgiveness. It was not Mara’s fault
I was now a slave.

At last, word of Charaxus was brought round—some
many weeks old. He professed his misery at being without me, but I think he was
happy to see his daughters, if not his wife. There was an obscure reference to his
sister Sappho, something about a poem circulating in the upper echelons. He
sounded quite angry and I wondered what it was about him to inspire his elder
sister to such unkindness. Of course, if she carried on with her brother as she
had with Aesop, then it was no great surprise to me that Charaxus was weary of
her theatrics.

And what did it matter if the Poetess of Mytilene scorned
us? A man was wont to harbor slaves, especially attractive young females. With
the attention I received daily in the streets, I’d no disillusions about my
desirability. Greek or no, the Egyptians had no qualms about indicating their
interest in me. I suppose I was something of a rarity this far south, with my
light eyes and fair skin, and Charaxus had certainly liked to flaunt me around
the city. Although I’d seen slaves of decidedly non-Egyptian origin, few could
boast Thracian heritage so far from our homeland’s shores. My bright red-gold
locks were a beacon in a sea of dark braids or shaved pates.

Later that season, I ran into Neferenatu, the
Grand Vizier--this time outside the palace walls. A litter passed through the streets,
and I, on my way to the fish sellers with Rada, was forced to pause and bow as
he passed. The litter stopped and the thin linen draperies flicked open. Neferenatu
motioned me closer.

“Where is your master, girl?” he asked. Rada
tittered behind me.

“He has gone to fetch the wine you purchased,
Great One,” I responded, bestowing him the deep bow to which his station
entitled him.

“The wine Nesu Ahmose has purchased,” Neferenatu
corrected. “May He Ever Walk in the Light of Ra.”

“As you say.” I bowed again. I have never favored
long-winded epithets overmuch, but for Egyptian nobility, it seemed almost an
art. Black flies bit my ankles and I wished I could move to the shaded area of
the stalls.

“Send your girl home. You may attend me at the
palace, whilst Charaxus is away at sea.” Again, his words were belied by a face
as inscrutable as a stone statue.

I glanced at Rada. Her eyes were huge with
surprise.

“I…I cannot, Great One.” I tried to be as
placating as possible with my refusal. Gods above knew what would happen to me
if I angered the powerful vizier whilst Charaxus was away. “Only my master may
bid me to come or go. I must beg you to wait until I have received his command.”
There. It was not unheard of for a command to take several months to reach
Lesbos and back.

Neferenatu compressed his lips, a sure sign of his
displeasure, but he could not flout the social mores of our positions. “So be
it. Move on,” he ordered the litter bearers. The draperies snapped back into
place and obscured his frowning countenance.

I waited until they’d completely left the market
before I rose from my position.

“Can you believe?” Rada whispered reverently,
nudging my shoulder. “You have gained the notice of the Grand Vizier!”

“Fie.” I shooed away another fly. “Say nothing to
Charaxus. It would displease him. Come, we have garments to buy.” A man’s
interest in me was nothing new. And though the commoners such as Rada held the
Vizier, the nobility, and Pharaoh’s household in reverence as a messenger of
the gods, I held to no such illusions myself. I also knew our visit to the
marketplace would motivate Rada to swifter action, as I’d give her my things
once I’d garnered new items.

Without Charaxus to guide me, I could not say
which merchants were cheating me. I depended on my servants, mainly Rada, to
help me purchase foods and drink, and the cloth for a new gown for I’d lived in
Egypt for almost a season, and grown at least three finger’s width. I am
already a good deal taller than most Egyptians, male or female. My old
clothing, while suitable, was no longer becoming. Before sailing, Charaxus had
given me leave to purchase a new everyday gown and, since my feet had grown, we
were to purchase my first Egyptian sandals as well.

I relied on Rada to guide me through the
marketplace to the artisan district, for there is nothing so base in Grecian
culture as a shoe seller, except perhaps a man who sells his time to other men.
The experience was sure to be unpleasant without my master, so I’d brought Rada
for security. At last we turned down the final alley and entered a cool, shady
interior shop off the side alley.

“We must be on our guard, Rada.” I cautioned,
taking firm hold of her arm. “For a mere craftsman of sandals is sure to be
dishonorable. Indeed, it is considered one of the lowest of professions.”

“It is not the same, here, Flower.” Rada wore a
strange smile as she sauntered into the small workshop.

At the opposite end, a man labored with his back
to us, seated at a small bench. In front of him, a long table held a variety of
supplies, tools, and half-finished treasures. Rada giggled and he turned.

My breath caught in my throat.

He was young. Not much older than I, from what I
could tell. He wore only a loin cloth of hemp and his body was cleanly shaved,
his skin slicked with sweat or scented oils. But this man had a face to rival
the gods.
This
was the sandal maker? He deserved to sit on a throne of
gold and ivory from Kush.

The whole room seemed small and unaccountably hot.
He stared at me and a slow smile spread across his lips. Rada shifted and
cleared her throat.

“Hori,” she said. “This is the Greek’s woman. You
are to make new sandals for her.”

Hori jerked his head towards the bench. He
gestured for me to sit. Then he crouched and took out a scrap of animal hide. He
pointed to my foot. I lifted my skirts, revealing much of my bare legs, and
placed my unshod foot upon the hide.

Hori’s fingers stroked the delicate skin of my
ankle as he held my heel in place and traced the outline of my instep. When he
finished, his hand lingered on my calf. His warmth surprised me. He was as hot
as Hephaestus’ furnace.

Large eyes dominated his features; in the shadows,
I could scarcely see his pupils, they were so dark. Like most Egyptians, he had
a full mouth, and I could not stop from staring at his lips as they curved
around syllables I could barely comprehend. He was the most finely sculpted man
I’d ever seen. He reminded me of Dionysus, young and lithe and beautiful. I’d
never been gently touched by a man that was not ravaged by time or ugliness.

Heat flared in my middle, as he stroked my ankle
with his long, tapered fingers. I took a deep breath, and the spicy scent of
his skin and cedar flooded me.

“Hori!” Rada snapped. And then she said something
in her native tongue that I did not understand.

Hori gave a guttural response, and his eyes never
left mine. He smiled. His teeth were white against his copper skin. I found
myself smiling back. Really, he was too beautiful by half.

“
Hori
,” Rada said again, her voice stiff
with anger. “You forget yourself. Come, Flower. We go now.”

She jerked me up by the elbow. I turned my head to
watch Hori run a hand over his shaved head as we left. His eyes trailed over my
bottom as I passed.

“Who was that?” I asked, breathlessly. Rada took a
sharp turn down the nearest alley. Her lips were pinched in a tart expression.

“No one. He is just a craftsman. Sometimes he
works in metals for the royal court, but mostly he makes sandals and such for
the rest of us, when Nesu Ahmose is away. Pay him no mind.” She sniffed. “He
smiles at everyone like that.”

Shoe seller or not, I thought about Hori’s smile
all the way back to the house.

*** ***

In the evening, Rada would not brush out my hair,
complaining she had too much work to do. And in the morning, she went to the
market early without me. I was prepared to scold her, but when she returned,
her eyes were glowing, and she was so sweet that I could not help but forgive
her. I did not tell her how much I thought of Hori, though. I was not certain
of their relationship, but he’d been so divinely formed, so handsome, that I
felt certain there was no harm in just thinking of him the tiniest bit.

At least my thoughts could be my own.

The following season, Charaxus returned. He
arrived, creased and worn from travel, in stained robes still crusted with salt
from the sea. After long months apart, I’d forgotten how old and tired he was.

He was delighted to see me. He gathered me into
his arms and I tried not to flinch as his roughened hands caressed me as he
took me. I recalled the soft touch of Hori hands on my legs and tried not to
compare them. Still, Charaxus did not seem to notice anything different about
me. Well, what could harmless daydreaming about the sandal maker alter?

I was still Charaxus’ property--the Greek’s woman.

He’d brought me a special gift from Naukratis. A cat,
sleek and lean, whose dun colored short fur deepened to black at the tip of his
long tail and face. He had eyes as green as the Nile and six toes on his left
paw and he gazed at me with the same tranquility and superior beauty of all his
kind. I named him “Ankh” which means “life” in Egyptian. I think Charaxus was
pleased with my choice; I was certainly pleased with his.

Ankh kept us in stitches with his antics as he
clambered from ground to wall to rooftop and back again. For all that he was
named ‘Life’, he was the harbinger of death to the rats in the granary and so
quickly became a favorite of the servants. I adored him. There is something
intensely satisfying about napping with a soft, purring body to keep you
company in the long evenings. Though, I could not say the same for my newly
returned master.

After a near sleepless night in which he snored
and tossed about until I poked him in the ribs, I was in no fine mood the
following morning when he called to me.

“Petal,” he said as I passed the courtyard garden.

I sighed. Once my favorite place in the house, I
was loathe to intrude. Too many months apart had inured me to prefer my own
company and to come and go as I pleased.

“Yes?” I plastered a smile on my face.

“Rada tells me you saw the Vizier, Neferenatu. In
the
agora
?” He raised his brow.

I nodded. So, Rada was not quite as discreet as
I’d thought.

“And?” He popped a piece of bread in his mouth and
swallowed it down with more warm beer. There would be no living with him this
evening, I thought. That fermented drink would give us both another restless
night.

“He asked me to visit him in the palace.” I
shifted my weight, impatiently.

“And what said you?” Charaxus studied me intently.

“I told him it would be for you to decide, and that
he must await your return.” I gave him a disapproving look as he gulped down
the last of his beer and signaled for me to pour more.

“Did you wish to visit him? In the palace?” he
asked.

I sighed. “In truth, I did not.” I thought of
Hori’s quiet little workshop, with the sunlight streaming on motes of metal
dust and wood shavings.

Ah, if only Charaxus knew the questions to ask.

“Good.” He seemed mollified. “That is well. You
seem downcast this morning, Petal. Shall we pick up your new sandals today?”

It was as if he could read my thoughts. I tried to
caution him my sandals would not be ready, for I’d hoped to retrieve them on my
own. The thought of the two men in the same space of my vision was almost
enough to make me weep. One man I longed to see; the other I would be
comfortable never seeing again. Oh, the unfairness of it all, that my life
should not be my own!

But Charaxus insisted on visiting Hori’s workshop,
to see for himself that all Rada had assured him was true--Hori was a master
craftsman and therefore worthy of his patronage. She begged to go with me, but
I was hurt by her report to our master and bade her stay behind. I knew the way
well enough, I traveled it in my memory many times.