HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (21 page)

“A name!” I cried, my arms aching to hold her. “Give
me a name, so I may sing your praises.”

“A name?” said she. “I have many. I am Freyja,
Urania…I am Astarte, Aphrodite, and Isis. I am Ama-no-uzme, I am Ishtar. I am
Anat. Which of these names would you choose?”

I swallowed hard. Was this a test?

“I will have none of these,” I said. My voice was thick
with longing. “I will call you ‘Love’ and follow you all of my days.”

The Lady drew nearer to my bed. My legs turned to
liquid fire and I sighed as she kissed my brow. I swear my forehead burned from
her touch.

“You have named me well. I shall make you a gift.”
And she drew from her gown two things.

One was a girdle of silver and gold. I gasped at
its finery. It was rich and encrusted with gems, many of which I had no names
for. The jewels gleamed in the moon’s light, like fiery stars fallen from the
night sky. Gold and silver ropes twined together in sinuous harmony between the
jewels. The girdle seemed a tad narrow for my figure. Indeed, I thought it
might just barely fit over my hips. She held it up for me to try.

I was right. It settled over my linen shift as if
it were a second skin. I wore a true queen’s ransom around my hips. No, not a
queen’s ransom--a treasure fit for a goddess. I wept as the bands embraced me. I’d
never seen anything so fine as the goddess’ girdle. She held up her gilded
mirror for me to see.

“Oh, Lady,” I whispered and admired my reflection.
Tears poured down my face. What could possibly compare to this precious gift? I
was more than just a slave. I was Beauty. What a treasure! What a fine, fine
gift.

“Ah,” she cautioned and waved her fingers before
my eyes. “You must make a choice.” With trembling fingers and much regret I
released the girdle’s clasp. I exhaled as the weight of it slipped free from my
body for I had not realized how heavy it was.

She seemed amused. Her other hand extended from
the folds of her pleated gown. When I saw what she offered, I did not know what
to say.

A rose.

A single, perfect, living rose of the purest
white. It was whiter than the untainted dove, paler than the foam on the
waves….even purer than the white of my lover’s pearly grin. Her fingers nestled
cautiously between the sharp, spiked thorns on the stem. The scent of the rose
was rich and sweet.

When she offered it to me, I cradled the fragile
blossom between my palms--afraid even my skin might stain it. The stem wound
around my arms like a serpent. I felt the prickle of thorns and loosened my
grip. I took one last whiff of the rose’s sweet scent and placed it back into
her hands.

“Which of them will you choose?” asked the Lady. “Which
of them suits you?”

Well, there could be no indecision! My hands
reached eagerly for the fine golden girdle, but just shy of grasping it, I
paused.

Was this yet another test? Could the two gifts
really be what they seemed?

All my life I’ve reached for what I could not
attain without forethought to the consequences. I dared not incur a goddess’
wrath now. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. There was more to this, I
was certain.

“A moment,” I begged and walked a few steps to the
edge of my cot.

Aesop had ever cautioned me to think before I
acted.

Well, I could not afford to scorn a Goddess. The
girdle was a treasure to be sure, but it was also an object of binding. Was it
meant to constrain me in more than one way? And here was the rose she offered, wild
and sweet, but thorny. A living plant grew and blossomed, reseeded and died,
and grew again.

Did I deserve a goddess’ treasure? Surely not. The
Lady wished to see if my eternal pride would cheat her out of my loyalty. I
weighed my options with no small measure of indecision.

The girdle served a purpose. That counted for
something. It could be used. What use did a rose have other than adornment and
adoration?

The Lady watched me pacing back and forth before
my window. I caught her sly smile and the way her fingers tightened on her
girdle. Slightly, yes, but I saw her. Did she loathe to part with it? Or was it
the gift she wished for me to choose? Oh, the indecision was driving me mad. Where
was Aesop with his logic to guide me?

“Your choice,” the Lady cooed. “What is it?” She
smiled archly.

I thought a moment more.

Thanks to my master Charaxus, I had treasures
aplenty. The girdle was a lifeless thing. And I had been raised to treasure
life and freedoms. The rose was alive, and so therefore, more precious to me. So,
I made my decision.

I grasped the Lady’s hand, the one holding the
white rose. The thorns scratched my hands, and a jagged, painful line of
crimson bloomed on the side of my marriage finger--the one leading to the
heart.

“This is my choice,” I gasped. I winced as the
stem curled around my palms and more thorns stung me like a serpent. This is
what I deserved from a goddess.

“So be it,” said the Lady. I could not tell if she
were pleased.

She drew my bleeding fingers into the hot, moist
cavern of her perfect red lips. Her tongue laved the blood from my finger tip. In
an instant, I arched in ecstasy, and my body convulsed and flooded with
release. When she withdrew my finger to smile at me with blood-stained teeth, I
awoke with a jerk in my cold, narrow cot. I glanced at my hands, but there was
no mark from the thorns on my palms. The throb of fulfilled desire strummed
through me like a lyre and the sweet scent of roses clung to the air.

I slept soundly the rest of the night.

*** ***

The next morning Charaxus sailed to Naukratis, to
check on the arrival of his Lesbian wine. With my master away, I’d decided to
try out more of my new language by haggling for some new plants for my
courtyard garden.

I successfully negotiated for a scraggly, white
climbing rose, which reminded me in a vague and pitiful way of the Lady’s gift.
The blooms were ivory, rather than white, true, and the perfume not as potent,
but still it would do. Some careful tending and I was sure I could make it
grow.

“Flower.” Hori caught my arm as I turned down a
narrow side street. He pulled me against the nearest wall and crushed my potted
plant between us. “I pine for you,” he said and kissed me hard and quick on the
mouth. He tasted like cinnamon. “Why do you not come to see me?”

The air between us was thick with heat and roses
as the squashed petals released their fragrance into the air.

“Hori, please.” I pushed him back and busied my
quaking hands by fussing over the crooked stems. My heart took flight from his
nearness and the touch of his mouth on mine. “You are Rada’s man. I have no
business with you.”

Hori looked thunderstruck, as if Boreas had
speared him with a lightning bolt. “No business?” he cried. “
No business!
What of love, sweet Flower?”

Love
. The word buffeted around my thumping
heart until I was sure my soul would leap from my chest and into Hori’s arms. Perhaps
this was the gift of my Lady? Was not the very symbol of it, the rose, here in
my arms?

“You are promised to Rada.” I protested.

“I am yours.” Hori stroked the hair from my face. “Meet
me in your garden courtyard when the moon is high.” And he turned the corner
and was gone.

I don’t know how I found my way back home. Thank the
gods it was a familiar route. Rada quirked her brow at me, but I turned away
and went to the courtyard to plant my rose where the fragrance could waft into
my room. As I raked the soil and watered the roots, my fingers trembled. What
was I doing? Regret and anticipation warred within me. I should not have
offered to meet Hori. No, wait, I deserved this. This is my goddess’ gift. Hori
of the smooth copper skin and the pearly white teeth.

I could not eat the evening meal, for indecision
made me ill. The servants cleaned up without comment and retired for the
evening, leaving only old Menekhet and Rada. How I wished Rada would go home to
her own family. But she and the old man Menekhet lived at the house. Still….

“Rada?” I caught her in the hall. “I wish you to
visit with your family tonight. Your mother must be longing to see you.”

I caught a flash of yearning, quickly replaced by
suspicion in Rada’s kohl-rimmed gaze.

“Why?” she asked.

My heart sank. I am a horrid liar. “Charaxus is
away.” Why not state the obvious? “I am retiring to bed. I…I haven’t felt well
all day.”

True enough. I’d been unable to sit still for
longer than the briefest of moments and I’d eaten nothing all afternoon. My
stomach churned to burning froth and butterflies.

“You should take this opportunity to visit with
your family.” Ha! She could not turn down my offer without appearing to be
ungracious. I felt a stab of guilt. Hori might not want her, but I still wished
her to be happy.

Rada considered me for a long moment. Then, she
smiled. “Thank you. I will.”

I watched her depart until the swaying outline of
her silhouette faded into the sunset sky. Then I paced the hallway until
Menekhet gave me a toothless grin. I shooed him towards the slave quarters with
a stern glare. His shoulders drooped as he trudged out.

The moon crept across the indigo sky. I brushed
out my hair and put on my best gown, wondering if Hori was as anxious as I. His
lithe form danced through my thoughts as I rubbed cosmetics into my nipples in
Egyptian fashion. I imagined his hand caressing me and they beaded with the
pressure. Would he think me alluring? I hoped so.

He must want me, I thought. I needed Hori to buy
my freedom from Charaxus.

Moments stretched to minutes and minutes seemed
like hours. I tried to chart the moon’s path through the sky as I had been
taught in the temple, but there were far too many stars. I jumped at every
sound, so I lit a small lamp hoping for comfort from night’s cool blanket. Chill
bumps puckered my exposed flesh.

When the moon was directly overhead, I began to
worry. What could be keeping Hori? Had he been attacked by thieves? Or, far
worse, was he already in the arms of another woman? Rada had been exceedingly
eager to leave. Perhaps she…a soft thump at the far end of the courtyard
interrupted my thoughts. I leapt up from the bench, wishing I had something
with which to protect myself. I brandished my garden trowel, abandoned earlier that
afternoon.

“Mrrrrow?” Ankh stalked from the shadows and
rubbed his stiff whiskers and furry head on my ankles. Weak with relief, I
tossed the trowel into the bushes and laughed at my own foolishness.

“Naughty beast,” I whispered as I gathered him
into my arms. His soft, furry body smelled like oleander and dust. He squirmed
and leapt to the ground.

“Oho,” I said. “My ankles will do, but not my
embrace, you capricious thing!” Ankh padded into the darkness, his tail upright
and twitching.

“Hello?” called a soft voice from just beyond my
lantern’s glow. “Flower?”

It was Hori!

I ran to him with my slippers jingling welcome. We
embraced beneath the stars. Hori ran his hands through my hair and down my
shoulders. He tweaked my nipples, cupping my bare left breast in his hot palm,
and whispered unintelligible words into my mouth as he kissed me.

Oh, how sweet the taste of forbidden flesh! Hori
should not be here, I knew this, and yet I could not resist the surge of my
blood. At last I would lie with a man of my own choosing!

Hori felt warm and strong. His arms encircled me
and I inhaled the scent of his skin rich with cedar and spice. What did I care
if the weave of his
shenti
was not fine? The whites of his eyes
shone like stars, beacons in the darker rims of kohl lining them.

“Your hair is soft as the feathery papyrus and
your eyes as bright as the sun on the Nile,” he said. His hand inched up my
thigh. His hand squeezed my breasts urgently. “Kiss me, Flower.”

I did, but perhaps Hori was not as practiced in
the arts of love as I had dreamed, for my passion was not roused. Indeed, I did
not feel anything. I tried to focus on him, many times I tried, without
success.

Hori’s hand crept again and again up my thigh. I
don’t know why I persisted in shifting away, but something was not quite right.

“Here, let us not stand as strangers,” I said and
pointed to the bench. We sat together. Hori kissed the back of my neck, but he did
not please me.

“What is wrong?” Hori asked.

I did not know how to answer, save that this was
not the greater glory I had imagined in my head. Still, I needed to entice him,
for how else would a man wish to purchase me, if not for desire?

“Wait.” I smiled to soften the blow. “Let me come
to you tomorrow. I need to think.”

“What is there to think of, but me?” Hori smiled
winningly.

“I am in earnest, Hori. Go now, before we are
discovered.” I put my hands against his smooth chest and pushed him lightly to
his feet.

He reached for me again, but when he saw I would
not relent, he scowled like a child denied a favorite toy and clambered back
over the wall without bidding me good night.

*** ***

In the morning, Rada stomped about the dining
hall. She plunked the platters of food in front of me. I kept my eyes and face
neutral, but Menekhet stared at the pair of us as if we’d grown goat’s horns.

As the morning meal drew to a close, I fled from
Rada’s temper and delivered some food to Hori. He had no woman to cook for him,
and after last night, I wanted to play the part of an adoring lover. Perhaps it
might entice my heart to be more moved by Hori’s caresses. This might be my
only chance to gain some measure of happiness that was not purchased or decided
for me.

The thought of gaining freedom after so many years
made my heartbeat quicken as I turned down the alley to Hori. As I entered the
workshop, I saw Hori with his hands up the skirt of a pretty young Egyptian
girl. She couldn’t have been much older than I was when I’d left the temple. I
watched his buttocks flex as he pushed into her. My stomach lurched. With each
pleasured moan, every shred of interest I’d felt for Hori’s affections
dissipated like steam rising from the desert sands, along with my hopes for
being free. I thought I might be sick.

The bread I’d brought slid onto the floor followed
by the beer which sprayed over the effigy of Ptah, the artificer, in the alcove
by the door.

Hori whirled, his eyes glazed with lust. “Flower?”
He jerked away from the girl with an unmanly squeak, his upright phallus
pointing like a spear at my heart.

It was then I realized that I was a mere vessel
for his lust. He did not want me—he wanted anyone who was willing. Surely, this
could not be the promise of my Lady!

Hori would never want to see me freed.

“Flower,” he began. The girl turned her face to
the wall.

“Don’t.” I backed away. “Never darken my house
with your shadow again.” I turned and ran up the side street before he could
come after me.

If he even planned to come after me at all.

I’m not certain how I made my way home. My mind
reeled, and I think my feet moved of their own accord to the paths of slavery
where I was most accustomed. I wandered through the marketplace for some time,
until Rada found me and dragged me home. She must have been spying on me again.
She clutched my arm and pushed me into the house of Charaxus, scolding me all
the while.

Well, if she knew my shame, then so would the
entire city, and if the city knew, then Charaxus would find out soon enough. I
did not care. My heart was swallowed up in misery. Why was I so lacking that I
should not inspire love, even in a lowly craftsman? I’d hoped his love would
win me my freedom.

I crawled onto my bed and would not eat for the
rest of the day or night. How much I wanted to cry, and yet I found I could
not. I was as dry and empty as the vast desert beyond my courtyard walls.

I stared up at the ceiling of my room and prayed
to the Lady. Aside from a dream rose, my prayers had gone unanswered, and while
the dream was as vivid as the roses growing in my garden, it was of little
consequence to me. Perhaps she held no power here, but I prayed nonetheless.

Lady, I am your servant. I do not understand
why you withhold your gifts from me.

I was so desperate to be free I would have given
myself over to an unfaithful craftsman. I was worse than unworthy of my
goddess. I’d called her Love, and yet I had not followed my heart. Truly, I was
a desperate and stupid creature.

Charaxus arrived home the next day. I should have
seen what was to come, but I was too full of my own grief to notice. My goddess
had abandoned me.

“Doricha?” He found me by the pool. He looked tired.
I swear he shriveled before my eyes.

I tried to muster some emotion that he had
returned to me safely, but I could not. I was shackled, perhaps forever to be
his woman. And no proper woman at that, for my heart was dead.

I looked away.