HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods (31 page)

After the sun slid across the wide expanse of the
skies, it was announced that we would reach Sais within the hour, though it
could not be soon enough for me. I could not be more glad to get off this
cursed barge. Mara was right; I should never have come.

I glanced at Amasis, who appeared hot and restless
on his throne. He stared at me for a long moment. I could not read his
expression. Then he inclined his head toward the side of the ship and stood up.

He wanted to speak with me!

I cursed my heart for soaring whenever he was near
and strolled across the deck, past the laden feast tables and knots of curious
or hostile glances. We moved in symmetry from opposite ends of the barge,
Amasis and I, winding around the far side of the canopy where our conversation
would be stolen away from eavesdroppers by the wind.

“Great Nesu.” I made my obeisance.

Amasis drew nearer. We stared out at the river,
the boats passing by, the young boys running along the banks, and the bundled
papyrus skiffs that darted from island to shore like insects. The high chanting
voices of priests echoed across the green water. We were very near Sais, by
now. The bow of the barge dipped and water sloshed from the oars.

“You are a very skilled player of games.” Amasis
glanced at me.

Despite the throngs of people who surrounded the
daily trappings of Pharaoh’s court, Amasis projected an aura of solitude
against the masses.

My head ached. “A game amuses only if one is aware
of the rules.”

He shifted his weight and the fine linen of his headdress
brushed against my bare shoulder. “I am glad you are here, I think.” The
corners of his mouth deepened.

I meant to make a smart retort about how he could
have shown me a little more welcome, but he turned and smiled at me--a genuine
smile that turned his eyes to snapping brown sparks--and I forgot everything I
was to say.

“Mistress!” Mara interrupted, pointing off the
bow. A puff of white fluttered in the wind and was gone. My
peplos
!

I ran towards her, knowing it was already too
late. Nothing could be done. I heard Princess Therawejt titter behind me.

“I’m so sorry.” Mara stared at the deck. “The wind
caught hold and it slipped away before I knew it was gone.” Her face was
reddened.

She was always a terrible liar.

“It is nothing,” I feigned indifference. I could
not help but mourn the loss of Amasis’ gift. “Sometimes the wind will have its
way, no matter what.” I moved to the feasting tables without looking at her
again.

I did not speak to Mara until we landed in Sais, and
then it was only to order her to stay close to me as we exited into a throng of
citizens cheering the return of Pharaoh. My near sister was skittish in the
crowds, and the order unnecessary save to express my anger.

Amasis had declared that I should stay until the
Festival of Homecoming, which would take place in a little over a month’s time.
Mara meekly offered to stay behind on the docks and oversee the unloading of my
things from the barge, while I hired a litter and inspected the few homes for
rent near the palace, for I refused to lodge with that nest of vipers. The
homes were outrageously expensive, but I contented myself with the thought of
the wealth I would acquire as Pharaoh’s favorite.

Mara sulked all the way to our new abode. I’d had
enough rude behavior from the nobles on the ship, so I was not prepared to
accept more from one of my own household.

“It was your choice to come to Sais, Mara. I
warned you that the trip would not be enjoyable for you. Cease this childish
behavior! It does not endear you to me.”

“Why must you go to him tonight?” She slammed the
lid of my carved wooden chest.

“Because he wishes it.”

“We’ve sailed all day!” she complained. “You could
use your charm to forestall him. You’ve done it before. Tell him you’re tired
and don’t wish to go.”

“Then it is because
I
wish it! I
have scarcely spoken to him since we left Naukratis. You swore to stand by me,
once. Will you help me dress or not?”

Mara gave me a mutinous glare and stomped from the
room.

I sighed. I suppose she had every right to be
jealous of my time with Amasis, but I had every right to enjoy such luxuries as
were offered me. I told myself that I went because I was a dutiful citizen of
Egypt and not because my heart fluttered like bird’s wings when he was near. It
was my job as a courtesan. Besides, I did not wish to insult Pharaoh by
refusing his offer, for that offer could just as easily become an order.

I downed a cup of wine and soaked for a long time
in the courtyard pool. A pair of languorous Egyptian girls rubbed my body with
scented unguents until my skin was supple and fragrant. Mara entered my chamber
with my best gown freshly pressed. She offered it to me with a silent, guilty
face.

“Thank you.” I removed the linen from my damp hair
and let her arrange the pleats and select the jewels I would wear.

“Shall I wait up for you?” Mara asked when my last
adornments were clasped in place. Her voice was raw, and I could tell she had
been crying.

“Do as you wish. I am likely to be late.” I gave
her hand a final squeeze and headed to the waiting litter.

The night passed without incident. It was a small
gathering. Neferenatu did not attend. I’d heard from one of the nobles that he
and his wife were hosting a party of their own, to celebrate the joining of
Princess Therawejt to Snesuankh. Well, that was a mercy, at least.

The women’s table was crowded with a pair of
languid, doe-eyed Kushites, a few ladies with pale skin not unlike my own, and
many Egyptian princesses. These must be the wives of Amasis, and the daughters
of royal houses, looking to gain Pharaoh’s favor. I sat next to an overfed
woman swathed from head to toe in pristine woolens. Imagine my surprise to
discover that this nervous, sweating creature was none other than Ladice,
Amasis’ Greek wife. Ladice slouched miserably while the rest chattered in rapid
Egyptian or picked at their platters of roast fowl, dates, and cool melon.

“Greetings, Star of Cyrene,” I said in Egyptian.

“Oh.” She peeped at me with huge brown eyes. “I do
not suppose you speak Greek?” she asked.

“Of course, Princess.” I responded, affording her
the rightful title of her position--one of many wives of Pharaoh who had not
attained the position of Great Wife and Queen.

Like his predecessors, Amasis followed tradition
and gathered many wives. It was common for politics, not the heart, to govern
his decision to marry. He currently had five wives--the daughter of his
predecessor Apries by whom he’d already fathered two sons, two Kushite
princesses named Semihib and Ootma, the Cyrene princess Ladice, whom was given
in trade after Apries’ unsuccessful rampage on that city, and a royal princess
of Egyptian descent, whose belly was round with child and whose voice was so
mild that I did not catch her name over the din. The wives lived in separate
apartments, some at the palace, while other less favorite wives, like Apries’
daughter, were allowed to live elsewhere, as she had no interest in court
games, now that her sons’ position, and thereby her own, was secure.

One of the Kushite princesses, Semihib, overturned
a wine cup on the lap of a meek Egyptian girl scarce out of child’s years, and
then had her beaten. Sweat beaded my upper lip. I must not seem weak or easy
prey to these cultured vipers, bred for the beds of kings. How I despise
cruelty! Only sweet Ladice fussed over the distraught young girl, while the
Kushites smirked behind their hands. I recanted my original assessment of the
awkward Cyrene princess and vowed to champion her, if I could.

Ladice was rumored to be unconcerned with
politics. It was said she was most unhappy in Egypt and she appeared as lost
and lonely as I’d been.

“We can speak in Greek any time you like,
Princess,” I said, when the uproar was over, and the girl bundled safely off. I
gave her a genuine smile. Her gaze wavered for a moment. What a discomfited,
strange creature she was!

“Oh…oh! I am so glad,” she babbled. “I have been
half out of my senses trying to learn Egyptian, but….” Her voice trailed away
at an odd point.

I had no idea what she was addressing, so I smiled
and nodded as if I understood and took a sip of wine to cover the uncomfortable
pause in conversation. I was not about to point out that most of the court and
half the citizens of Sais spoke Greek in varying degrees. Amasis himself had
ordered the scribes to educate the people.

“How do you find Sais, Princess Ladice?” I heard
someone ask in Egyptian. “Do you miss Libya?”

Ootma masked a malicious smile, when Ladice’s brow
furrowed. Her lips moved as if she sought to translate words in her head, so I
relayed the question quietly to her in Greek. Ladice’s cheeks pinked, but she
gave my hand a squeeze under the table.

Her brown eyes filled with tears and her trembling
lip reminded me of Mara. I felt a twinge of pity for her. She was only slightly
better off than the poor wine-stained Egyptian princess.

“Oh…oh. I suppose Sais is nice.” Her voice was as
flat as the sandy banks of the Nile. She gave away much with her tone if not
her words. Ladice was not happy in Egypt. Perhaps it was only that which kept
her safe from the plots of the Pharaoh’s wives, for I did not trust the
Kushites to keep their pranks restrained.

“There are some lovely gardens near the temple,
Princess.” I put my hand over hers. “I should be happy to show them to you.”

“You have been in Sais before then?” Ladice asked.
“I…I thought you arrived on the barge with….” Her voice trailed off again.

I felt my cheeks burn a little. “I lived here some
time ago.”

“I should like to accompany you to the gardens
sometime.” Ladice’s quivering lips curved into a smile.

She appeared to harbor me no ill will. I don’t
think I could make the same claim, if I should be in her position.

The entire court was in a frenzy over the
conquests of the Kourosh of Persia and over who would eventually position
themselves as Amasis’ Great Wife. For much of the people’s opinion of Pharaoh’s
potency resided in his ability to master a powerful household. It had been
speculated that perhaps the beautiful Therawejt would soon wed Amasis, but thus
far, she remained promised to Snesuankh. I thought of her calculated snide
remarks, and silently thanked the gods that Amasis had not thought to bed that
coiled viper.

After the meal ended, I was asked to dance for the
royal families. As there were many there who had not accompanied Amasis to
Naukratis, I forced a smile to my lips and put my tired body through its paces.
Three times I was called, and three times I danced with Amasis’ dark gaze
weighing heavily on me, but he did not speak openly to me. After the third
dance, the Kushites hissed at me behind their hands. Their eyes shot daggers at
me, when Amasis wasn’t looking.

As the evening wound down, I moved restlessly
through the clustered groups to the fresh air and solitude of the balcony. The
moon bathed the garden courtyard below me with pale silvery light and the scent
of jasmine and sweet mint scented the air. I felt a pang of longing to see my
home, the familiar village paths of Perperek.

 “I thought I might find you here.” Amasis joined
me on the balcony.

“Nesu.” I bowed low before him. “It seems you
always know where I am.”

“Well….” Amasis said and then just, “Well.” He
chuckled.

I wondered what else he might have said. “Are you
glad to be home?” I asked to fill the silence of the night air.

“Yes, I am now.” Amasis seemed preoccupied. “Rhodopis,
I have heard of you.”

“So you said, Nesu, the other night.”

“No, not the rumors of Naukratis.
Here
.
In Sais. You were the woman of Charaxus, the wine trader, yes? But you had
another name then.” So, Amasis had spies everywhere. My heart pounded in shame,
but Amasis fanned his bejeweled fingers. “It does not matter to me.”

I could not believe he would so readily dismiss my
past. I felt frozen inside, as cold as the peaks of mountaintops in Thrace.

When I did not speak, Amasis nodded again. “It is
of no consequence. I had another name, myself, once. It seems very long ago.” This
news did not surprise me, as it was the custom of Egyptians to take a court
name when ascended to noble status. It signified the attainment of a new life.

I’d taken a new name, myself. And though not
royalty, it had been many years since I’d thought of myself as Doricha.

“Do you miss that old name, now that you have
found another,” I asked, fighting for calm.

“At times.” His fingers clenched. “I was more
certain then, of what was expected of me. Now….” he paused. “You saw them in
there. The royal families treat me as if I were no more than that.” He gestured
to the brass chamber pot tucked behind a huge potted palm in the corner of the
balcony. “A vessel to be used.”

I blushed at his candor.

True, the royal families obeyed Pharaoh’s every
command. They served him, but I’d seen the subtle slights, a too long moment
before acceding to his request, the slight shortcomings of some of their
deference. I’d heard the whispers of dissension and felt the tension coiled in
the room like a mesmerizing serpent. It angered me, when by all accounts, Egypt
was more prosperous now than in any time in recent recollection. Why should he
have to fight to keep that which the gods had given him to rule?

“The chamber pot?” I laughed with a lightness I
did not feel. “No matter the use, is it not the same metal we use to craft our
effigies? Is it not as finely carved and deserving of its place in the palace
as, say, the goblet that graces your lips? Why should it be considered any
less?”

And why should he be? He was Nesu, the mighty
Pharaoh of Egypt, regardless of his origin. A man who stood alone against the
legions of Persia’s advances.

Amasis stared at me. I could not read the emotions
playing across his liquid eyes. At last, a hint of a smile played across his
lips, and he grasped my shoulders and pulled me hard against his body. I
thought he would kiss me. Surely he wanted to kiss me, now. I leaned closer to
him, savoring his warmth, his sweet almond scent. I parted my lips and waited
for the feel of his mouth on mine.

It did not come.

For just then, his advisors came with their
pinched faces to intrude upon our quiet conversation. I sighed with more regret
than relief and felt my cheeks burn.

“Neferenatu has returned. Snesuankh and the
Princess Therawejt have wed,” they said.

Amasis plastered a wan smile on his lips. “May
they be blessed with joy and long life under the Light of Ra.”

My heart echoed his blessings. I felt his eyes on
me as I made my farewells to the royal families and called for my litter
bearers.

“Do not forget. The gardens? Tomorrow?” Ladice
squeezed my hand. Her eyes were so filled with hope that I could not refuse
her. I saw Semihib glancing at us and felt wearier than ever.

“As you wish, Princess.” I crossed my left arm to
my shoulder and inclined my head in the customary obeisance for her station.

*** ***

Mara was waiting for me when I arrived home. I
stumbled into my house, weary and sleepy from too much wine and too little
food. I’d been so nervous I hadn’t eaten much, and I was much surprised I had
not tripped over my own feet through the dances.

Mara fussed over me, helping me to undress and
releasing my hair from its elaborate coif. She brushed it with soothing, even
strokes. I sighed in pleasure and did not complain when she drew off her own
gown and bade me lay beside her on her bed. Not when she kissed me hungrily on
the mouth, over and over, until I begged for her touch.

Afterwards, her long fingers drew soft patterns up
and down my sore limbs as I recanted the evening’s events--lonely Ladice, the
scheming Kushites, the marriage of Therawejt and Snesuankh, my dancing, Amasis
and the chamber pot. She giggled at my description of the fat, rosy princess
sweating in her Greek woolens.

“She would do better to go home than to stay in
Egypt,” she said.

“Yes, but I do not think Amasis would allow her to
leave Egypt.” I answered. “Did you know that Apries sent him to attack Cyrene?”
Mara shook her head. “Poor thing, her marriage was meant to curry favor between
Cyrene and us, once Amasis gained the throne.”