HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (26 page)

“Do not toy with me, for I am not so easily swayed
by a pretty figure.” Aesop swatted my hands away and glared at me. “You should
know I will not buy your favors.” His sharp words cut me to the quick.

“Aesop! I did not mean to-”

He brushed aside my apologies, with an irritated
sweep of his fingers. “This is your question to answer, if you wish to grow
your fortune beyond the men and women in the sex stalls.”

I thought for a moment. “Like the
hetaerae
?”
A vision of the cultured, entertaining pair of women at Iadmon’s flashed behind
my eyes. I’d meant to ask them if I could be worthy of them, once.

Aesop’s eyes lit up like stars. “Exactly so. Use
more than your body. Use your eyes, your ears, and your wit. Use your clever
tongue for more than a whore’s empty kisses. You will find the answer, I am
willing to bet.”

“Ha.” I pressed a sulky kiss to his stubbly cheek.
“You are only willing to bet because you have nothing overmuch to lose.”

He gave me a sharp look. “You find the answers,
and they will pay whatever you ask and more.”

Aesop was right. On our next feast, I watched how
the dock master’s eyes followed my bottom and his eyes gleamed at every bawdy
jest. I plied him with innuendos as he drank. A light flared in his eyes. When
he paid his coin and lay with me, his passions for me were so pronounced I was
a bit sore, but the following morning, a chest of precious frankincense was
delivered in his name--with a request for another meeting.

“I cannot believe he sent this. For
me
.”
I did a little dance.

Aesop frowned. “We can use this. Give it over.” He
took it to the market and traded the frankincense for wine for the next party. The
next gathering was even more successful. The room was crowded with admirers and
intellects.

“Rhodopis,” they cried.
Rhodopis
.

My lovers’ gifts were carefully hoarded until in
less than a year’s time, we were able to pay for a sweet house with a tiny
garden, near enough to the docks to be accessible, but not so no near as to be
in the stench and din of the river. I hired servants as a customary show of
status, but no slaves--for Rada had taught me trust is not easily offered as
earned, and there was no one left in Egypt I trusted, save for Aesop. I vowed
never to house a slave.

And true to my tutelage in temple hygiene, I summoned
a female healer mentioned to me by an Egyptian whore I’d hired to serve lesser
guests at our last feast. In shy secret whispers, the whore reported that the
woman had much knowledge of more desirable concoctions for preventing babes--a
necessity to my industry. When the old healer crept into my home, as withered a
crone as I had ever seen, I thought perhaps the whore had made me to look a
fool. The woman was not Egyptian at all--but Greek.

“The gods will close your womb, I promise.” The
old crone gave me a toothless grin. “I was not always as wretched as I am now. Remember
that, Beloved Woman. Mortal beauty and youth will fade, but what is inside
remains.” With a wink, she directed me to write on the papyrus I had prepared.

My reed poised above the papyrus, and a fat drop
of ink spattered it. I was not sure if what I was inside would be worthy of
admiration later, but for now, it must be enough.

I could not help but smile at the secret gleam
that sparked her eyes. “Tell me what I must do.”

“Grind together a measure of acacia dates with
some honey. Moisten seed-wool with the mixture and insert it in your womb. Then,
there are herbs you must dose yourself with after every assignation.” She
unrolled a leather bundle and held up a long stalk with clusters of white lacy
flowers. “Mark this, the wild carrot. You can use the seeds. It is not the most
effective, but the most plentiful to be sure.”

I shook my head. “I want certainty, Wise One. Price
is not an issue at the moment.”

“Then...pennyroyal?” She moved to pick it up.

“No.” I would never douse myself with the
destruction of my mother. “It makes my nose itch.”

“Ah, then perhaps this. It is very rare and
costly, thriving only in a single area in Libya.” She selected a stalk of a
deeply divided leaves and clusters of yellow blossoms as golden as my goddess’
hair. “Silphium. From the mountainsides, near Cyrene. Dry the blossoms and
grind them into a fine powder. Mix it with a bit of honey to form a pellet no
larger than the tip of your smallest finger. In exact proportion, blend this
with myrrh and pomegranate seeds and take with a cup of water. Mix it precisely
or the result will be a brew that makes your breath reek and stomach void, and
not your womb.” She laid out each herb and measured the correct amount. I
stared at her tidy little heaps and committed it to memory.

The healer ground the dried silphium and myrrh
until they formed a fine powder. Then she sprinkled it in a cup of water and
bade me to drink it.

“How can I tell if my tonic is true?” I asked,
sniffing the cup speculatively. After dousing my mother with a fatal dose of
pennyroyal, I was loathe to ingest a hag’s concoction. I caught a musty blend
of flowers and...earth. “It would be easy to make a mistake.”

“If you mix the tonic wrong, the odor of foul
breath will give you away. Bitter as death, and as pungent as an unwrapped
corpse. Drink it, and such a scent will linger on your lips for half a day or
more.” She cackled again. “And the sickness will last for much longer.”

I drained the cup in one swallow, tasting only the
sharp tang of the myrrh. “Why should anyone drink something that smells foul?” I
placed my hand in front of my mouth and blew.

“I always mix correctly. You have no need to
check.” The healer packed her satchel and made to leave, looking slightly disgruntled
with my lack of faith. “We are not all so fortunate or wealthy to set aside a
poorly mixed potion. As I said, silphium is very dear. Foul or no, the
properties are the same. It is only the taste and the accompanying illness that
mark it undesirable.”

“Then silphium it is.”

Smarting slightly at her comment on my rise in financial
status, I placed my newly purchased herbs in a cedar case and paid the healer
generously for her time before resuming my plans for the next feast.

*** ***

As the Inundation season loomed along with the
waters of the life-giving Nile, I found myself once again near the shop of the
trader who’d accepted my rose-gold slippers. I wondered if he still had them,
for I mourned their loss. The novelty of them alone would be worth the
repurchase, as I’d not seen their equal.

“You!” the trader said when I entered his shop. “Have
you more useless baubles to trade?” His eyes flickered over my finery.

“No.” With shock, I saw the slippers on a pile of
carved wooden chests. “I have come to buy them back from you.”

His eyes took on a greedy light. He named a price
that was outrageous, considering what he’d offered me for them.

“Ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I will not pay half
again over the amount you offered me.”

“I have housed them, and I gave you coin when you
were in desperate need. You would begrudge me a little profit?” His face was a
mask of woe.

I laughed. No wonder he was successful. He could
wheedle venom from a serpent. Still, I was not so well off as to be able to
spend so much on my pride and vanity.

“Very well. I suppose they will have to remain in
your care.” I put on my best stern expression. “And I shall have to tell my
patrons how poorly I’ve been treated by you.”

The trader looked puzzled. “Your…er…patrons?” He
eyed the gold gleaming at my throat.

“Yes. The city will soon know how you have dealt
with Rhodopis.”

It was the first time I’d thought of myself as
anyone other than Doricha, the slave. The name flowed out my mouth like honey,
and the trader’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as if he could taste the
sweetness in it.

“Rhodopis, you say.” He made a short bow. “I had
no idea…of course, a bargain should be struck. Perhaps if I were to offer you a
more amenable price, your opinion would improve?” He smiled ingratiatingly.

“Perhaps,” I returned the grin, showing my teeth.

In the end, I paid less for my rose-gold slippers
than he had originally offered. I ran home to show them off to Aesop.

“I thought I told you not to spend without
consulting me? You are becoming quite unruly these days.” Aesop grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be angry with me Aesop. Look!”

There had been enough left over from our feast
preparations to splurge on a flagon of wine for Aesop and myself. When the last
drop was gone, I twirled about the room in a giddy fit. His eyes sparkled when
he saw me dancing in the precious jingling slippers.

I took another mincing step. “I never thought I
would own them again. Who would have thought we’d grow so wealthy?” I sang.

“You mean,
you
have grown so wealthy,” he
said, sounding irritable. He eyed my delicate ankles. “I do not think these men
come to hear me half as much as they do to see your fine pale body.”

“Don’t be silly,” I clasped his hands and tried to
lead him into my stumbling dance. The room whirled in front of my eyes, and I
ended up collapsing in a giggling heap on his lap.

He sucked air between his teeth and his hands went
around my waist to steady me.

“Hush, you scoundrel. I am not heavy.” I leaned
back against his chest and closed my eyes to block out the whirling room.

Aesop’s hands tightened. “Have I complained?” he
asked. “Doricha, we must talk.” His voice was odd, but I did not care. The
night was a rollicking dance of moonlight, jasmine breeze, and wine.

“Fa, I don’t want to talk. After listening to the
Assyrian prattle on in his stilted Greek, I think I shall never want to talk
again. I cannot believe you accepted an offer from him. Get up!” I stood and
tried to yank him to his feet. “I want to dance!”

Aesop did stand but he grabbed me about the waist
again, and pulled me close to him. “Little Flower.” His voice was thick. I
dimly registered his body pressing against mine. “Come here.” He covered my
mouth with his own.

Clarity pierced through my wine fogged brain. I
pushed him away. “Aesop,” I said. “Stop that. What are you about?”

He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “I
know not. Only that you drive me wild with the need to be near you.”

“Oh!” I cried and clapped my hands over my ears. “Stop
this. I don’t want to hear anymore of men and their desires. I am full up of
desire!”

It pained me to push him away, Aesop, my only
friend. I cared for him, but not as a lover. He’d kissed me once before, long
ago in Iadmon’s home. The outcome was no different. I was alarmed by his ardor,
not enticed!

“Doricha.” He struggled to pull my hands away from
my ears. “Dori, please. Let us make a new plan. We can finish our business
here. I will take you back to Greece if you wish.”

“And what is my business, but to become a
hetaera
?
The first in Egypt, I think!”

“You could be a wife,” he suggested, almost too
softly to hear.

His words hit me like a fist. Aesop, the only one
I trusted in all of Egypt wished to shackle me to a respectable house in
Greece? I had long since given up on marriage proposals to secure my freedom.

“How dare you make me such an offer? Was it not
you who bade me stay and live free in Egypt? Did you not warn me it was the
only place I could live as I wished?”

“I will protect you.”

“Protect me from whom? I am your friend, Aesop. I
do not wish to be your chattel in Greece. I have a mind of my own!”

He swiped a hand over his sweating forehead. “Please,
I-I cannot watch these other men snarl over your sweet young body anymore. I
want you for myself. No other woman has touched me here,” he pointed to his
forehead, “as you have. I’d not thought it possible. But….”

“And what of your dear Sappho?” He stared at me
blankly. “Did she not tantalize you with her mind? She warned you to set me
free. Whoever loved me would be cursed by the gods. What of that?”

A pounding ache massed behind my eyes and I
thought I might be sick. The wine churned in my stomach. I could not believe
Aesop, my only friend, should turn on me like this.

“I…I…” he turned away from me, but said no more. I’d
struck the great Fabulist dumb, and I’d never felt worse in my heart. “I care
for you, girl. Do you not feel the tiniest bit inclined to love me in return?”

I put my arms around him, resting my head against
his broad back. “Sappho herself warned you. I am not meant for love. You are my
dearest friend, my savior. Do you remember when you kissed me long ago in
Abdera?” I felt him nod, or perhaps he merely trembled beneath my cheek. “It
was wrong, even then.”

After a long moment, when I felt certain my heart
would break, he turned away from me. “Yes, yes, of course. You are right. It is
nothing. Forget I mentioned it.” He glanced at the door. “I’ll be back soon.” He
quit our house as if nothing at all was amiss.

But, I did not sleep for a long time, and Aesop
had not returned by the time I closed my eyes for rest.

*** ***

The following year was filled with new patrons. The
Inundation swelled the Nile’s banks and ships sailed easily to and fro
throughout all of Egypt. Trade was brisk, and my business was no exception. Aesop
began to absent himself from the banquets, so I was forced to negotiate on my
own behalf.

I hired a few of the prettier Egyptian girls full
time to entertain my lesser patrons, while I jested and recited some of Aesop’s
fables. I took fewer and fewer assignations myself, until the day came, when I
had enough wealth and influence, my name was spoken in the upper echelons. I
was the foremost courtesan of Naukratis, and I lay with fewer than a handful of
men in any given season. A mock rivalry surfaced amongst my patrons, and I delighted
in their transparent attempts to curry my favor. I, who once had to beg in the
streets…what a short memory the city has!