Shame of Man (28 page)

“You have been kind to me,” Scylla said. “Allow me to repay the favor. You will need a house. Take mine—the one I am here to sell.”

“No, I could not,” Huuo said. “I must not impose. But I thank you for your concern.”

“But the house is empty,” she protested. “Use it until you can get another. Let me lighten this small portion of your burden, as you have lightened mine.” She lifted her bandaged hand.

He started to protest again, but Crystal intervened. “Master, you need a house. You have so much else to concern you. If this lady is your friend—”

“An acquaintance,” Scylla said. “I am a dancer. I know—knew Annai, professionally. But I want to help. It will take a month to arrange the sale of the house, and it makes no sense to waste it when there is such need. Perhaps you, Crystal, can serve him there as you have done before.”

“Yes, certainly,” Crystal agreed. “It is fortunate.”

Huuo could not oppose her. He needed his Canaanite servant more than ever, in this time of crisis. She could not assuage his grief, but she shared it, and that represented vital support. She also knew how to take care of him. His sensible mind, operating apart from his feeling mind, knew that she was vital to his survival right now. “Do as seems best,” he said.

“I will hire a wagon,” Scylla said. “I will bring it here.” She hurried off.

Time seemed both interminable and instant, depending on the focus of his consciousness. He was aware of the wagon, which held the three of them as well as its driver, as it bumped along the streets through the city. Then he stood before the ruin of his house.

It was nothing but ashes settled around the projecting stone walls. Long shadows shrouded the interior and reached across the land beyond. It was clear that nothing had survived the conflagration—no furniture, no possessions, no people. They had probably, as Crystal said, been murdered before the house was torched; only their bones would remain. Those bones were undisturbed, because only the next of kin could handle them with honor for their spirits. Huuo would have them rescued and properly interred in due course. But not today, not this week; it was more than he could face at the moment.

Then he was being conveyed by the wagon again, as the sun sank low in the west, until they stopped at an unfamiliar house. Crystal took him by the
elbow and guided him inside. There was a bed there, and he lay down, leaving the two women to handle the world; he had to handle himself, if he could.

He must have slept, for he dreamed: Of Annai, smiling. Of Chipp, running happily. Of Minah, her great round eyes seeming eerily knowledgeable. She had always related well to the spirits; now she was a spirit herself. Perhaps she would be the one to communicate to him from the spirit realm. But in his dream she did not; she was merely a picture, as were the other two.

Evening faded into night. Scylla lit lamps and set them in the rooms of the house, and a candle beside the bed where Huuo lay. He got up to use the lavatory chamber, then sat on the bed, lacking ambition to do more. His dream extended part of the way into his waking state, and he thought perhaps Annai would appear, having taken residence in another house after the fire. She would come when she learned that he was back, and she would find him, and all would be well. At any moment he would hear the laughter of his children. Crystal would lead them here.

But Crystal knew they were dead. Had known before he knew. Had had to tell him at the pier, to try to cushion his fall some to some slight extent. So the dream dissipated, and for a moment he mourned it. Illusion was better than reality, right now.

Scylla entered the room. She bore a tray. “I prepared some food for you, Huuo,” she murmured. “You must eat.”

“I have no interest in food.”

“You must be whole for the funeral. You would not want to dishonor the spirits of your loved ones, perhaps sending them astray. You must be ready to do their final honors.”

She was right. Death was terrible, but death without honorable burial was worse. Those he loved were dead, but their spirits depended on him for guidance to the next realm. So, listlessly, he took the food she offered, and mechanically consumed it, unaware of anything else about it. Then he lay down again and wept himself to sleep.

Crystal tuned in on the local news. The Philistines were in control of the land, but the Canaanites had their own gossip network that covered things few Philistines knew of. Such as exactly which of the master's liaisons the mistress of a house knew about, and which she did not. Which temple priestesses were favored by which nobles, and the peculiarities of their interactions. Which noble, in the guise of a visit to the temple, fornicated instead with a heifer, believing this form of worship to be holier than the other. Which lesser lords were skimming grain from the tallies of which greater lords. And where every Philistine, of any level, traveled, and for what purpose, legitimate or illegitimate. The Canaanites knew, and did not
tell. Because if they did, their masters would realize that their supposedly dumb witnesses were dumb only in the presence of Philistines; they shared everything with their own kind. That would be a disaster. Life was already hard enough without destroying their chief amusement: watching the follies of the masters.

Most of the stories were routine. But some were not, for Crystal. She was especially sensitive to two threads of the ongoing tapestry of news: the background on Scylla, and the actions of the hill folk who had made the deadly raid on Huuo's house. Because she did not trust Scylla, of whom some truly juicy tales were told, and she wanted very much to know exactly who had destroyed her kind master's life. Crystal's loyalty went beyond death; it extended to vengeance.

Scylla, it turned out, had been exiled a year ago from her native Gaza because she had schemed to corrupt a left-handed noble by seducing him away from his wife. The seren had learned of it and banished her from the city. Since then she had lived alone in a daughter city, on the largess provided by her brother Zebub, who remained in the favor of the seren of Gaza. Occasionally she danced for someone's party, receiving due pay. She was an excellent dancer who would have been in the festival but for her banishment. In exile she had done reasonably well for herself, economically, because of the finesse with which she rendered personal favors to wealthy men; it was said that even the temple women could not match her in certain respects. But seven days ago she had abruptly bandaged her hand and gone to the port city of Ashkelon, where she had waited until boarding the ship on which Huuo traveled. There was no evidence that she had actually hurt her hand; no Canaanite had been involved in that, as the lady had used no servant. It had been assumed by some that she lacked the wherewithal to afford a servant, but Crystal suspected otherwise. What happened to what she got from those wealthy clients? Scylla certainly hadn't wasted her resources in riotous living. The lady was good at keeping secrets, and perhaps knew that secrets were not secure with servants. So perhaps she had indeed taken a fall and hurt her hand—and perhaps not. Almost certainly her boarding of the ship was no coincidence; she had known that Huuo was aboard it. So what was her interest in him?

What else but the man himself! She had headed for the port city the moment the raid occurred. She had to have known that Huuo had lost his family, rendering him open for remarriage. He was a prominent musician, honored despite his handicap of hands. As his wife, she could surely live well, without suffering the indignities required by certain men. Huuo was known to be straight, in every sense other than his handedness; he would be easy to accommodate. So she was capitalizing on her opportunity, giving no other woman a chance to attract his attention first. Crystal couldn't really fault that, because the opportunities of women were limited, even Philistine women, and Scylla's reputation was none too savory. She had to be sharp to
gain a good husband. And perhaps she would make him a good wife. She did seem to like Huuo; Crystal had watched her without seeming to, and caught the way her pupils dilated when she gazed directly on him. She probably admired his music; as a dancer she would know his skill. There was a certain sexual appeal to good music, and to those who made that music, and Scylla was by all accounts a lusty woman.

But what of the house burning? The reports were that the hill-folk herdsmen had been in complete control of their livestock—until suddenly the stampede had occurred. It had happened because they had abruptly incited it, then pretended to be overwhelmed by it. It had evidently been a plot to generate a distraction so that they could then pillage the city. Of course they knew that the guards would soon make their appearance, so the effort was fast and limited; they had charged almost directly for the front gate, knowing that if it closed them in, all would be lost, especially their heads. It had been their fortune that there had been few guards in the vicinity at the time; the guard captain had given most of them leave to sample grog, expecting no trouble. And Huuo's house had been right along that exit line. They had pillaged it, without a doubt, and torched it, perhaps as a secondary distraction. But had it been chance that that particular house had been attacked, and so few others? The hill folk had been seen carrying away items from the house, shrouding them with drab cloth so as not to attract any more attention than they could afford. But there were wealthier houses in that vicinity. Had the raiders been unlucky in choosing a medium house instead of a rich one? Perhaps.

So Crystal kept following the news, trying to gain the exact identities of the hill folk, which was no easy task because they were neither Philistines nor Canaanites. And she continued to serve Huuo with utter loyalty. If she were ever able to complete the picture of his disaster, she would give him the information so that he could have the city guards make a punitive raid and execute the guilty hill folk. Vengeance wasn't as good as prevention, but it was better than nothing.

In the morning Huuo woke to find Scylla sitting beside him, fanning his somewhat fevered face. She was wearing a light smock whose filmy texture clung to her body, and her tresses hung loose around her shoulders. She was in dishabille, but was incidentally lovely.

“You need not take such trouble for my comfort,” he said, embarrassed. He had not realized that she would be with him in the house, and attending him like this; that was not the business of an unrelated Philistine woman.

“It is no trouble,” she murmured. “You are in need, and are a good man.”

At any other time, that might have seemed like an invitation. But of course it was innocent. “Thank you,” he said, and sat up. His head was logy,
as if he had overimbibed, but he hadn't. He remembered the horror of the prior evening, but at the moment it was somewhat distant, as if there were a stone wall between him and it.

He got up and dressed. He didn't remember undressing during the night, but must have done so, for he was in night clothing. He used the lavatory, and emerged to find that Scylla had set breakfast for him.

“But you are no servant!” he protested. “Crystal will serve me, in due course.”

“She is out shopping,” Scylla said. “I told her to buy your favorites. You will need new clothing, too; you lost your wardrobe in the fire. She will see that you are provided for.”

“But I gave her no money.”

“I gave her some. Have no concern.”

“Then I must repay you.” He reached for his bag of gold pieces, which he had found undisturbed beside his bed.

“Please, no,” she said. “I am not entirely destitute. It pleases me to help you in your hour of need, as you helped me in mine. See, I am doing better now.” She held up her left hand. “I was able to prepare the food and to dress myself competently.”

He gazed at her. “Except for your hair,” he said. “I will braid it for you, if you wish.”

“There is no need, unless the sight of it undone distresses you.”

“By no means. My wife wore hers loose—” He was caught by a sudden choke, and could not continue.

Scylla turned away, sparing him the embarrassment of being seen in bad emotion. But in a moment he recovered. “Please, I should not eat alone. Join me, since you have done so much, so graciously.”

“As you wish,” she murmured, and fetched food for herself. She sat opposite him, and smiled as she ate. In any other circumstance, this would have been a pleasant interlude. He appreciated the manner she had relieved him of the burden of caring for himself during his distraction of grief; she was going well beyond the normal parameters of acquaintanceship, and perhaps even of friendship. If news of her presence alone with him in the house spread, her reputation would suffer, undeservedly. He would have to find a house of his own today, and spare her that.

Crystal appeared later in the day, bringing his favorite foods and new clothing made to his measure. He was now ready to go out about his business, but the thought of formally declaring his wife and children dead disturbed him, and he delayed. Scylla catered constantly to him, brushing off his attempted demurrals, repeating that she was happy to help a friend, and he argued the matter perhaps less than he should have. He still lacked ambition to get anything of substance done, and she made it easy for him to postpone it. He did at least manage to prevail on her to the extent of braiding her hair for her, and she thanked him warmly for the fine job. He
felt guilty for closing his eyes and pretending that it was Annai's hair he caressed.

Somehow several days passed. He wasn't sure how it happened, but the calendar marks proved it. His grief remained intense, but was becoming less unbearable. Scylla diverted him with games of words and dice; she was surprisingly apt with the latter as they played for imaginary points. Once her robe fell open as she leaned forward during a throw, revealing her unbound breasts beneath; he could not help glancing. When she realized, she closed her robe more carefully, apologizing. “I still am imperfect, dressing myself with the other hand.”

Crystal, too, was attentive, trying to see to his comfort in every possible way a servant could. It was almost as if she wanted to be alone with him, surely for no untoward purpose, but was unable because of the constant presence of Scylla. Had he been more alert, he might have arranged a private dialogue; she was after all his servant, and the one he trusted most. But his distraction of grief prevented that.