HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (20 page)

We entered the shop after the morning meal. Hori
was again at his bench, his shoulders gleaming from exertion as he toiled at
what looked like an exquisite tiny box, no more than the size of my thumbnail
and crafted of electrum--a pleasing mixture of silver and gold. I wondered at
who would have a need for such a tiny treasure, but Hori put it aside as we
entered. When he looked up, I swallowed and turned my face away. It wouldn’t do
for Charaxus to see how my cheeks burned. I’d one quick glimpse of Hori’s smile
before I fixed my eyes to the icon in the alcove nearest the door. Ptah, the
long bearded god of craftsmen. I feigned intense interest in it.

“I wish to see what work you have created for my
lovely Petal. Tell me, do you think yourself worthy of adorning one such as
her?” Charaxus sounded very self-assured.

“Please. Sit.” Hori bade us in clipped Egyptian. He
motioned for me to put my foot up on the bench as he rummaged around at the
back of his small shop. My skin tingled, anticipating his touch and I swallowed
hard. I snuck a glance at Charaxus who was whistling faintly and looking around
the room with a smug expression.

“Do you speak Greek?” Charaxus asked.

“Yes, a little.” Hori returned, his hands behind
his back. “Our Nesu has sent his scribes among us to make the language known.” He
cleared his throat and tossed me a confident smile. I averted my gaze before
Charaxus caught me gawking.

“A wise man, your Nesu Ahmose,” said Charaxus,
nodding.

“Here,” Hori said. “You called for sandals, Great
Man,” he said deferentially. “And sandals I can make. But not for one so lovely
as she. She dances with every movement of her body. I have made these, instead.
They will fit her and no other.”

With the flourish of a performer, Hori revealed
his handicraft--the most exquisite pair of dancing slippers I’d ever seen. Crafted
of acacia wood, Hori had sculpted them in cunning fashion to curve against my
arches just so. He’d lined them with animal hide, so despite the wood they were
as comfortable as could be. The outer surface of the slippers was adorned with
metal--and not just any metal. I’d thought it to be bronze, but my disbelief
multiplied.

“Now see here….” Charaxus began.

“Rose-gold, fit for a queen.” Hori interrupted. “I
have smelt the yellow gold with copper to give it strength. The pink hue suits
her skin, do you not think? And see the bells? They are made like this.” He
demonstrated how he inserted bronze pellets into a tiny rose gold cup and
flattened a second cup on top. The effect was delicate. They were the most
beautiful things I’d ever seen. Opportunist that Hori might be, they were too
dear. Charaxus would never buy them.

I slipped on the treasures and twirled before him
in one of my most pleasing dance positions. Charaxus’ eyes softened. Hori stood
discreetly to the side and let me mince about for Charaxus, but his eyes burned
and never left me.

The jingly bells filled the small workshop with
music as I pranced. The sunlight streaming through the high windows glimmered
on my feet and turned them to solid honey. I felt molten and alive! Oh, how I
desired the slippers!

They were more than incomparable in their beauty. They
were a product of Hori’s craftsmanship. How many hours had I spent daydreaming
of the sandal-maker? Me, the daughter of the gods! Perhaps in this way, I could
believe he’d thought of me--that he’d dreamed of me as he tooled and fashioned
the wood, leather, and metal into treasure.

“They are lovely. Even more so on limbs like
hers.” Charaxus agreed, and clapped me on the bottom as I passed. I felt heat
rise to my cheeks and Hori smothered another smile. “But they are also very
dear, to be sure. I ordered sandals, not golden dancing slippers.” He crossed
his arms.

My heart sank.

Humiliation and rejection all in one. I was
mortified, but I couldn’t make myself remove the treasures from my feet. I sketched
a few steps more, certain I’d never dance in them again.

“Gold is common as sand in Egypt, since the conquer
of Nubia.” Hori exaggerated. “I have not used so much to coat her slippers. It
is only a thin sheet, see? Perhaps an arrangement could be made, for these will
fit none but your woman.” He emphasized the possessive ever so slightly.

Clever, clever Hori.

Charaxus’ eyes lingered on me, still twirling like
a whirlwind in the sunbeams. I stopped and gave him my most appealing smile. “And
what of sandals?” he asked. “She cannot wear such slippers to the market.”

“She should have music wherever she walks,” Hori said.
His eyes were hot. “These will last you well beyond any sandal. Think of the
number of sandals you would have to buy to compare with sturdy wood and metal.”

Charaxus did think. For some long moments he was
silent. My gaze darted from him to Hori, who I dared not look at for long, and
back to Charaxus. I wondered if my master calculated sums in his head. I
wondered if he knew I wanted the slippers as much because Hori had created
them, as I did because they were beautiful.

“What say you?” he asked me.

What else could I answer? “Oh, please,” I said. “I-I
desire them. Very much.” I could not help but eye Hori as I said that last bit.
“I hardly go out anyway. Let the servants go to the market. I shall dance!” And
I twirled again.

Hori rubbed his lips together and looked at me
with an expression I could not read.

Charaxus laughed at my childish desire. “She is a
treasure to behold, is she not? Well, fetch us some beer, Petal. I would settle
on a price.”

“You are so good to me.” I kissed his cheeks and minced
towards the door to get his drink from the nearby stall. I did not even care he
would break wind all night. I left with wings of happiness on my heels and felt
Hori’s eyes on me the whole way out.

The rest of the week I spent dancing and satisfying
the lusts of Charaxus. The man truly was an extravagant fool. I should have
recognized the trait when he’d purchased me in Samos, but I’d never realized
the extent of his profligacy until he agreed to Hori’s fabulous rose-gold
slippers. Charaxus was a weak man, and I am ashamed to say, I encouraged his
weakness then for it led me to my own desires.

What can I say, but that I am Thracian and thus
governed by my passions?

The city was abuzz with the news the Greek had
ransomed a queen’s treasure for his woman. We were invited to various homes of
the lower echelon Egyptian nobility, a physician and his wife, and to attend the
house of Isesi, a minor scribe, who had invited half of the young bureaucratic
families to dine as well. Isesi’s wife Wakheptry was kind, however, and knew
some of the niceties of Greek culture. So, I passed a pleasant evening. I think
they were satisfied to see me dance. It gave them fodder for gossip. The Greek
and his beautiful flower--the girl with the rose-gold slippers.

As we departed, Charaxus made promises to Isesi to
dine again next week. Still, I feared one day Pharaoh himself would ask us to attend
him and then all Charaxus’ reassurances I would not be sold would be set aside
for the god king of Egypt. I was relieved to hear the Pharaoh was not even in
Sais--he’d gone to Memphis some months ago.

I wondered if Charaxus knew of Pharaoh’s absence. Surely
he must, for it seemed he knew of everything that went on in the city. Well,
almost everything.

He did not, for instance, know that I saw Hori
again.

I was in the courtyard tending the jasmine and
sweet winding roses when I heard a distant clatter. Puzzled, I went to the far
wall to investigate. It was a chunk of plaster the size of my palm. I scanned
the high wall looking for any flaw in the smooth white surface. There was none.
Who would throw a clod of broken limestone into my garden?.Some prankster, no
doubt.

“Who goes there?” I called over the wall. “Be gone
or I shall call for the guards to thrash you.”

“Flower?” said a faint voice from the other side
of the wall.

My heart leapt into my mouth. It was the warm,
liquid purr of my dreams, the voice of the sandal craftsman.

“Hori,” I called, as softly as I might without
anyone inside the house to hear. “What are you doing here?” I’d not seen him
since the day Charaxus had purchased my treasured slippers.

“Please, Lovely Flower, do not send me away. I
pine for the sight of you. Is your man at home?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered, as loudly as I dared. My heart
leapt. He pined for me? “He is in the house tallying his stock.”

“Tell him you wish to go to the market.”

“I can’t!” But, could I? After so many years of
being prey for other men, I wanted Hori with a passion I’d never experienced
before.

“Please,” he begged. “I must see you.”

I thought for a moment. “I could tell him I need
to go to the market, but he will send a servant with me. I suppose I could
bring Rada,” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t sure I trusted her.

“No,” Hori called. His voice sounded strained. “Not
Rada. Bring the old one, the one they call Menekhet. He’s almost blind and lame
besides. You can lose him in the throng. Meet me at my workshop.” Then his
voice was gone, before I had time to reconsider the wisdom of our plan.

“Charaxus,” I called once I was inside. My heart
pounded with the weight of my deceit. I’d never lied to him before…well, not
truly lied outside of the niceties I used to stroke his manly pride. “I must go
to the market. I wish to buy…I wish to purchase you more beer. Our casks are
almost gone.” That should do it.

He did not even look up from tallying his figures.
“Take someone with you,” he said. “The streets will not be safe for you alone.”

Rada set down the linen she was mending and made
to rise.

“Not you, Rada,” I said, as calmly as I might with
my heart leaping into my throat. “The casks will be too heavy for you, and
besides,” I moved towards the door, “I need you to finish the washing. I will
take Menekhet.”

And I disappeared before she could raise any
objections, with my slippers jingling like an alarm.

*** ***

Hori was right. I’d scarcely left the house when I
left poor old Menekhet puffing behind me.

“Wait,” I heard him call plaintively.

But I could not wait.

My heart and feet had wings. Hori of the divine
face wanted me, he wanted to see me. He was but a seller of shoes, true, but he
more than made up for his lack of station with his charm and handsome form. My
skin tingled in anticipation and I felt almost free as I rounded the alley and
turned towards his door.

“Hori,” I called softly as I entered. What if he
was not here?

He pounced on me the moment I entered. His full
lips covered mine, and wicked creature that I am, I welcomed him without
protest. I was on fire as his tongue surged into my mouth. How good it felt to
be desired by such a handsome man as he.

“Oh….” He moaned into my mouth. “Oh, Sweet One,
how I have longed for you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. How strong he was!

His skin was warm cedar and musk. He lifted me up
and set me atop his workbench, the very workbench he’d crafted my treasured
slippers on. Leather scraps, wood and a half-finished electrum trinket slid to
the floor.

“Hori.” I sighed. I’d thought of little else but
him for weeks now. I’d dreamed of this moment, never thinking it could actually
be, but hoping for it just the same.

My pulse raced through my veins like unwatered
wine. I should not let him please me like this, but oh! He tasted like honey
and spice. His strong palms rubbed my breasts through the thin fabric of my
shift until my nipples beaded. Then he moved his hot mouth from my swollen lips
and suckled me right there--through the linen and all.

“Ah,” I whimpered with pleasure. This was the
lover of my dreams. What Mara and I had whispered about, so long ago in the
temple. Surely I deserved this after everything I’d suffered. Some small
measure of happiness not begot by my master’s purse. My hands slid up his broad
shoulders, and I reveled in the feel of his silken copper skin. A woman’s cry
broke into our interlude, a moment before I recognized the soft tread upon the
doorstep.

“Hori!” It was Rada. What on earth was she doing
here? Her face was as red as if she’d just been slapped.

“Rada,” croaked Hori. I hopped off the bench and
pulled my skirts into place. How had they become bunched up over my hips?

She glared at us both. “Your master is waiting for
you at home, Flower. Go to him.” She could not order me around like a servant! I
was Charaxus’ woman and not hers.

“I will go when I please,” I said hotly. “You are
the servant here.”

“You will not hold such esteem when the Greek knows
of your business here,” she threatened. She turned on her heel to leave.

“Wait, Rada,” Hori called. “It is me you are angry
with. Please, do not go.”

“You?” I turned to my would-be lover. “Why should
she care?”

“He is
my
man, promised to me this past
season.” Rada smirked. “He will not have you, Little Flower. He plays with your
petals, but he will take a true Egyptian woman to wife.”

Wife
. I had not thought that far ahead. Never
in my fantasies was I a wife to some base sandal maker. In fact, I was no wife
at all, for a true wife has but little worth other than to tend a household and
bear heirs. In Greece, it was forbidden for a slave to marry. I’d thought only
of gaining a little pleasure for myself, but marriage? I had not thought of it.

Still, here was an interesting prospect. If Hori
wanted me, he would have to purchase my freedom. Perhaps, I could entice him to
bargain for my freedom.

I could not breathe easily.

“Enough,” Hori said. “Go, Flower. I will talk to
Rada.”

I didn’t want to leave Hori to face a jealous
Rada, but I could not risk Charaxus finding me here. I fled the workshop with a
silent vow to return to Hori when I could.

*** ***

All was well at the house. Menekhet had returned
with a cask of beer, and Charaxus, still fiddling with his figures, said
nothing. I supposed he thought the fresh cask was my doing. I gave Menekhet a
string of glass beads and a kiss in exchange for his silence, something he would
have given me at any rate.

Rada returned after some long hours with an
exultant smirk and a spring to her step. She said nothing to me and, as far as
I knew, nothing to Charaxus. I wondered at her strange expression, but what
could I say aloud that wouldn’t bring suspicion onto myself? And after all,
Hori had sought out my company, not hers. Perhaps she’d lied. Why should she
return with a smile? Oh, I could not bear to think of the two of them together.

“Petal,” Charaxus called out the next morning as I
passed. My heart leapt into my throat. “Come here. I’ve had word from your
friend.”

“My…my friend?” My voice squeaked. Rada
had
told.

Charaxus frowned at my hesitation. “Yes, your
friend Aesop, the Fabulist. It seems he will be in Sais in a few weeks. He
travels by way of Naukratis. Shall we invite him to visit?”

My limbs grew weak with relief.
Aesop
. How
long had it been since I’d seen my old friend and mentor? I wondered what he
would think of his Little Crab, finding happiness at last.

“Certainly.” I kissed him on his stubbly cheek,
and tried not to think of my smooth Egyptian lover as my master’s hand slid up
my buttocks. “I should love to see him.” I disengaged his hand. “I shall make
preparations.”

Charaxus turned back to his tally books, and I
exited, bumping into Rada on my way out.

“Rada,” I said, taking her arm and leading her
away from Charaxus. “We need to prepare for a guest. He will be here in a few
weeks.”

Rada gave me a filthy look.

“Another man to satisfy your lusts?” She tossed
her silky hair.

I sighed. I should try to make peace with her, for
my own sake, if not hers.

“I’d no idea Hori was your man, Rada. And no
action from him would have given me cause to believe it. He invited me to his
shop yesterday, not the other way around.”

Rada’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it or not. Hori invited me there and
kissed me of his own will.”

Suddenly Rada looked much less certain of herself.
“But, but…he said….” Her voice trailed away. She stopped and gave me a hard glare.
“Stay away from Hori,” she warned.

“Or what?” I could not help retorting as she
sauntered down the hall.

She did not answer.

*** ***

That night I begged off Charaxus attentions,
citing my woman’s time which was still a week away. I marveled that despite my
regular cycles and his attentions to me, I’d not conceived a child. It was a
blessing from the gods, I was sure, but strange nonetheless. I wondered if he
ever questioned my fertility, as I had his.

I lay in my own bed and tried to recapture the
heat from Hori’s touch by stroking my fingers in a lazy circle around my
nipples. I should not think of him, I knew this. But, I was naive then, and
knew only that I desperately wanted for something more—something of my own
design.

So, I tried to conjure up my passion with Hori. When
that failed, I stuck my hand between my legs and rubbed myself as I had not
done since my time with Mara. It did not relieve the ache clenching my
womanhood. Without a lover, I could not gain release. I needed a smooth, hard
body pressed against me, so I left off and tried to sleep.

It was far too hot this evening. My skin prickled
all over as if I slept on a bed of needles. I tossed and turned until my pleated
gown became a twisted rope between my legs. I felt guilty for lying to
Charaxus; really, my master treated me better than any man had. I owed him my
honor and loyalty. What did it matter that I was his property?

But, it did matter.

Ah, Lady
, I prayed.
You
promised that I should live free
.
Can you not share some measure
of your grace?
My eyes ached for respite. At last, I fell asleep with
my hand still tucked between my thighs. I dreamt as I had not done since
leaving Abdera.

The fair haired lady stood before my cosmetics
chest. She admired herself in a gilded mirror. When she caught me peeping at her
from under my bed linen, she raised an immaculate brow.

“You have forgotten me,” she said with a sigh. Her
voice rang in my head like a thousand brass bells. Or perhaps it was the rush
of a thousand sparrows’ wings.

I tried to protest but found I could not speak. The
Lady raised her hand to my pots and I watched in fascination as she lined her azure
eyes with Egyptian kohl. Her finger dipped into the pot and came away red with
carmine. She rouged her cheeks and lips, quite unnecessarily for they were as lush
and red as berries.

“I could never forget,” I began. My mouth went dry
at her beauty. “You are truly the most beautiful, the most desirable of women.”
I ached and trembled anew.

“So, I am.” She smiled. “And so you will be. You
have gained my notice. My attentions are not an easy load to bear. Yet all I
have placed upon your shoulders, you carry. All and more.”

“Wh-o…?” I licked my dry lips. “Who are you?” For,
I was afraid she might be offended I did not know her.

“I am called by many names, in many tongues. I am
‘She of the Sea’. I am the Cyprian, the Goddess, the ‘Man Killer’, the ‘Lover’.
I am ‘She who Gives’. I am ‘Yours’.”

Cunning, crafty, beautiful woman. She would twist
even Aesop’s reasoning with her pretty pink tongue.