HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (18 page)

The palace of the Pharaoh in Sais was enormous. An
expanse of limestone and porphyry, interlocking hallways led to the public
rooms and, I supposed, to the Pharaoh’s more private residence. Columned
porches allowed the breeze to sift through the interior, but sunlight seemed
forbidden, for all that they worship the sun god, Ra. As we were escorted
further into the palace, the sizzle and pop of torchlight reminded me of a
Bacchae temple, for it was so cool and dark in the halls of Pharaoh’s inner
sanctum that torches were lit, even in the daylight. Chill bumps raised on my
flesh. No sun’s glow could warm the depths of the inner palace.

Charaxus patted me on the shoulder as we were
escorted through the cool halls to where Pharaoh awaited us.

I’d spent the previous evening performing a
private dance and creative seduction of my master, using the
kelēs
I’d learned at the temple many years ago. I’d hoped my efforts would endear me
to him enough so he might keep me for his own and not sell me to the Egyptian
king’s household. It did me no good, for in the morning, we dined and dressed
and were ushered in to the Pharaoh’s hall.

Amasis, or Nesu Ahmose as Egyptians called him,
kept many beautiful women, most of them inherited from his predecessor, the
unlucky Apries. Charaxus smiled and assured me none could be as lovely as
me--not even Ladice, who was herself a Grecian princess garnered from the Greek
settlement of Cyrene in Libya.

It was rumored Ladice was so unattractive that
Pharaoh could not perform his duties. Public sentiment named her a witch, but I
could not believe a man as powerful as Pharaoh would tolerate a wife who was
not comely. Surely, if my own master needed such assurances, the great god-king
of Egypt would also. I hoped, for her sake, that she might have some features
that bordered beauty. If Ladice wished to be the Great Wife of Pharaoh, she
would do better to pray to her love goddess, the lusty Aphrodite, for the
powers of seduction, then to emasculate him.

My station in life was due to the nature of my
sex, more than anything else. But Charaxus was an easy man to please and most
often was sated by my attention, rather than enthusiasm. After my years of
drudgery, it was an easier life. I was satisfied to remain in his possession
and not to be tossed to the whims of a cruel and barbarous foreigner. Besides,
it would be an easier thing to earn my freedom from Charaxus, when he tired of
me, than to live as concubine to an Egyptian king.

And that is what I most hoped to do.

Rumors of Persian invasions in the outermost edges
of Egypt had reached us even here, in the tranquility of Sais. I thought back
to Charaxus’ comments on the dock in Naukratis and worried for our future. Despite
his calm exterior, I knew Charaxus was concerned, for if Egypt fell to Persian
rule, his trade here could be finished. The Persians had their own sources of
wine through dealings with the nomadic Canaanites, the Hittites, and the
Babylonians. Perhaps he hoped to make me gift to Amasis to cement his position
with the king who rose through the strength of his spear and who loved Grecian
wine.

The servant led us to a large area, where visitors
lounged in various stages of wait. The cavernous room was supported on all four
sides by large carved stone pillars, quite unlike those from Greece. Bands of
colored patterns painted at the ceiling level gave the illusion of even more
height and the painted figures on each column depicted Egyptians in various
activities. I suppose it gave the Pharaoh a sense of watching over his
subjects. Or perhaps he thought the public would be more at ease amidst such
bucolic art.

Well, I could not be less composed. Sweat trickled
down my back despite the cool air.

We were not the only merchants to be invited. There
were many gathered that day. We retreated to a far corner to bide our time
until our names were called. There was a trader of grain, and two Ethiopians
bearing speckled and striped animal skins such as I had never seen. They
recognized Charaxus and hailed a greeting, eyeing me with curiosity. A few
scribes took copious notes, sitting cross legged and using their stretched
linen skirts as a surface to write on papyrus scrolls. Others my master did not
know lounged in the empty corners--all of us awaiting the pleasure of the most
powerful man in Egypt.

The floor was a combination of soft beige, ivory,
and rose variegated porphyry imported from the quarries to the south, Charaxus
pointed out. Clusters of small gilded and onyx couches were scattered about the
room. Servants passed by a burbling fountain. Along the walls in alcoves, were
several bronze or granite sculptures of unfamiliar Egyptian gods--some in the
form of men, some animals, and some a frightening combination of both. I
imagined them looking down on me with displeasure.

“Stop fidgeting, you’ll crease your gown.” Charaxus
hissed at me.

He must be as nervous as I. Perhaps he worried his
investment would not pay off. I did not wish to be sold, but I could not
continue to clench my dress in my sweating palms under his disapproving gaze. I
forced myself to be still.

One hour passed. Then another. I sighed. The tiny
red grains of the Egyptian time keeper--the hourglass--filtered with agonizing
slowness. In all that time, only the Ethiopians were called away. Two men began
a quiet dispute over who’d arrived first. I eyed the two guards posted at the
front of the room and feared the worst. Neither of them moved an inch, but
another servant poked his head in and uttered something to one of them. The
guard shook his head and the servant went away. I sighed again.

I’ve never been a patient creature. I was even
less, now, with the threat of new ownership looming over my head like a spear
poised to strike.

I tried to content myself with observing the other
occupants, but they all seemed as agitated as I, except for an obese trader who
slurped his wine noisily and waggled his eyebrows at me.

I focused on the guards. They were very alike,
both with the smooth copper skin and generous lips of their race, and shaved
heads. Their eyes were lined in black kohl and they wore a sort of tunic made
of white linen, slightly coarser than my own. Neither wore any jewelry or
adornment, though even cheap trinkets were available in the streets.

At last, Charaxus and I were summoned to the
front. There was much grumbling, as many had yet to be called. I tried not to
consider that Pharaoh might be more eager to see Charaxus’ offering than a
cattle trader’s wares.

We were shown into a smaller private chamber,
lavishly decorated with vivid painted designs in gold, red, and black bands. An
elderly Egyptian man, who I could only assume was Pharaoh, steepled his fingers
together on a small table cluttered with faience glass jars of cobalt and
green. An open work collar of gold and precious stones circled his neck and
rings gleamed in the torchlight on his hands. He tugged at his finely made,
ill-fitting wig as we entered, and I noticed the hair was a much darker shade
than this man’s eyebrows. He looked false. I smothered a wave of repulsion and
fear.

I could tell, even from his seated position, I
would tower over him. He was quite short in stature, with a slouched, craven
posture like a stunted poplar trunk. I wondered how he’d gained much luck on
the battle field. In Thrace, it had been a man’s height that gave him the
opportunity to strike first. This man looked hardly capable of hefting his
paring knife, let alone a spear or axe.

Beside his wrinkled fingers lay several rolled
papyrus scrolls, hollow reeds, and slung over his shoulder was a round leather
container of ink as red as the man’s carmined cheeks and lips. Comparatively,
my current master was a demigod. Disgust filled me.

Charaxus bowed low. I knelt beside him and kept my
eyes lowered.

“You may rise,” said our host.

Charaxus looked around expectantly. “Where is the
Nesu, Rising Son of Neit?” he asked.

I gaped at him. This was not the mighty Pharaoh
Amasis?

“Nesu Ahmose is away. I will hear your petition,
today.” His gaze flickered towards me. “I am Neferenatu, the Nesu’s most
trusted advisor.”

“Great Vizier,” Charaxus bowed again. “I have
journeyed from Greece to bring wine to the table of the great Pharaoh, may it
please him.”

Neferenatu inclined his head a fraction, his eyes
still not leaving me. “You are not unknown to us, Charaxus of Mytilene. We have
heard of the quality of wine you carry, and its taste is palatable to
our…beloved ruler.”

He lifted the reed and made to mark on the scroll
in front of him. I speculated on the importance of his pause. His eyes slid
from me to Charaxus and back to me.

“How much?” Neferenatu asked.

Charaxus blinked, clearly at a loss. The garish
red color of the walls blossomed in his cheeks. I breathed deeply to calm my
racing heart.

“I asked ‘how much’. How much wine have you
brought with you to sell?” The Vizier tapped the reed against his yellowed
teeth.

Charaxus recovered and answered.

“It is not enough,” said the Vizier, marking on
the papyrus. “We must have at least twice that amount, and before the next
season’s festival. Leave us what you have now and bring the rest.”

“That is quite a sum to bring all the way from
Lesbos. I do not know if it can be done before the Inundation.” Charaxus
stroked his chin. “The ship will be much laden down with the weight of the
wine. And great Nesu has never requested so much, not even in the days of his
military doings.”

“Such discussion is unseemly. Sell what we require
or take your business elsewhere.” The Vizier signaled to the servant at the
door, who disappeared. Our audience was clearly coming to an end.

“Hold,” Charaxus called out anxiously. “If it be
the will of Nesu, I will bring the rest. But you must agree to settle on a
price now and advance me for the portion I leave behind.”

“You do not trust my word?” Neferenatu’s face
darkened like a thundercloud.

Charaxus threw his hands up in protest. He was
clearly being forced into a position he did not like. “I have taken a house
here in the city, and I have some debts.” His eyes flickered towards me. “I
trust your word and the words of any man so beloved by the Nesu. But I do not
have the coin I need to transport such a large amount of wine from Lesbos. I
will need a portion of it before sealing the agreement.”

“Very well,” said the Vizier, sitting back on his
stool. They agreed upon a price, and Charaxus seemed pleased by the offer. A
great chest was brought forth by two slaves. Neferenatu’s eyes rested again on
me as he weighed out the portion of gold ingots demanded by Charaxus. I could
tell my master was satisfied, which made my heart lighter. I smiled at the
wrinkled vizier, blessing my good fortune for I’d thought Charaxus meant to
sell me.

Neferenatu closed the chest with an expression I
could not read. His hand paused upon the lid. “Give me the girl and I shall
double this amount,” he said, as if in passing. “She is yours?”

My smile froze.

“She is,” Charaxus answered. “I brought her
anticipating audience with Nesu Ahmose. She is an exceptionally fine dancer.” He
signaled and I dutifully rose from my kneeling and assumed a ready stance for
dancing.

Grand Vizier Neferenatu called for music, and
within moments, drums and whistles were brought. I took a few shaky breaths
before forming my body to the steps that I knew would impress him. Though
Charaxus shone with pride, the leathery vizier’s face remained as blank as
sandstone. Well, perhaps he was just too old to be much moved, by the sight of
me. Still, I was glad for his perceived sour displeasure, until the audience
was ended.

“Oo-yay.” The vizier tipped his chin. “A fine
dancer, indeed. You could erase most of your debts with her. So? Sell her to me
along with your fine wine. You can pick up another woman when you return to
Lesbos.”

I drew a sharp breath.

Charaxus rested his hand on my shoulder. “I thank
you for your offer, but I must refuse.”

“That seems unwise.” Neferenatu’s lips firmed, but
Charaxus did not amend his rebuff. “So, then. As you wish.” The vizier
dismissed us with a curt lift of his chin.

We left in somewhat of a hurry. I rejoiced that I
would not be sold today, especially to the leathery vizier. How easily Charaxus
could have used me to gain the royal advisor’s favor. And yet, surprisingly, he
did not.

I stumbled through the rest of the afternoon in a
state of amazement. That night I made love to Charaxus with such fervor he promised
to bring me back a special gift from Naukratis. If he did not guess at my
reasons for being so passionate, I would not tell him.

*** ***

As the sun broke the next morning a flurry of
preparations were made for Charaxus’ journey back to Lesbos. Missives had to be
sent to his wife and daughters to prepare them for his arrival, for it would
take weeks just to send word. He had to secure transport to Naukratis, where he
would then hire the vessel and crew that could haul a large quantity of wine
back to Egypt. All would take time, and time was not a luxury Charaxus could
afford.

“I must move quickly to capitalize on this sale,
Petal. The whims of Egyptian nobility are as changeable as the sands. With the
speed required to make it back before the festival, much of the wine may need
transport over land, rather than by barge. It will be a rough journey.” Charaxus
finished rubbing his teeth with a small horsehair brush with an ivory handle.

“How long will it take?” I asked, signaling one of
the slaves to bring me Charaxus’ satchel. Much as I desired to return home to
Greece, I loathed sea travel.

Charaxus sighed. “A day or two to Naukratis. Then
a few weeks to get passage back to Lesbos. After that, I don’t know. Who can
say if the quantity Pharaoh requires can be bought at this time of year? It
will be months, at the very least.”