The Persian Boy (4 page)

“What?” I cried. “Do you think I let myself be moved by those sons of pigs?” Here was one to whom I could speak at last. “There were one or two . . . But I used to think myself away from it, when I could.”

“I see. Now I begin to guess the trouble.” He lay in thought, as grave as a physician, then said, “Unless it is women. You don’t think of women, do you?”

I remembered the three girls hugging me by the pool, and their round soft breasts; then my mother’s brains spilled on the orchard pebbles, and my sisters screaming. I answered, “No.”

“Never think of them.” He looked at me ea?rnestly, his lightness gone. “Don’t imagine, if your beauty keeps its promise, that they won’t be after you, sighing and whispering, and vowing to be content with anything you have. So they may believe; but they never will. No; in their discontent they will turn spiteful, and betray you. The surest way to end on a spike in the sun.”

His face had turned somber. I saw there some dreadful recollection, and, to reassure him, told him again I never thought of them.

He caressed me consolingly, though the pain had left me. “No, I don’t know why I considered women. It is clear enough what it is. You have fine senses; for pleasure certainly, for pain therefore as much. Though gelding is bad enough for anyone, there are degrees of feeling. It has haunted you ever since, as if it could happen again. That’s not so rare; you’d have got over it long ago, with me. But you have been going with men you despised. Outwardly you had to obey; within, your pride has conceded nothing. You have preferred pain to a pleasure by which you felt degraded. It comes of anger, and the soul’s resistance.”

“I didn’t resist you,” I said.

“I know. But it has bitten deep; it won’t be cured in a day. Later we’ll try again, it’s too soon now. With any luck in your life, you will outgrow it. And I can tell you one thing more; where you’re going now, I don’t think it will much trouble you. I have been told to say no more, which is taking discretion to absurdity; but no matter, to hear is to obey.”

“I wish,” I said, “I might belong to you.”

“I too, Gazelle-Eyes. But you are for my betters. So don’t fall in love with me; we shall be parting all too soon. Put your clothes on; the getting-up ceremonial we’ll do tomorrow. The lesson has been long enough for today.”

My training took some time longer. He came earlier, dispensed with the haughty eunuch, and taught me himself the service of the table, the fountain court, the inner chamber, the bath; he even brought a fine horse, and in the weed-grown courtyard showed me how to mount and ride with grace; all I’d learned at home was how to stick on my mountain pony. Then we went back to the room with its green glimmering windows and great bed.

He still hoped to exorcise my demon, giving much patience to it; but the pain always returned, its strength increased by the pleasure it had fed on. “No more,” he said. “It will be too much for you, and not enough for me. I am here to teach, and am in danger of forgetting it. We must accept that this is your lot just now.”

I said in grief, “I’d be better off like those others, feeling nothing.”

“Oh, no. Never suppose so. They put it all into eating; you can see what becomes of them. I’d have liked to cure you, just for your sake and mine; but as to your calling, that’s to please, not be pleased. And it seems to me that in spite of this trouble-or maybe because of it, who can tell what makes the artist?-you have a gift. Your responses are very delicate; it is this which made your late employment so disgusting to you. You were a musician forced to hear howling street-singers. All you need is to know your instrument. That I will teach you, though I think you will excel me. This time, you need not fear being sent where your art will shame you; I can promise that.”

“Can’t you tell me yet who it is?”

“Haven’t you guessed even yet? But no, how should you? One thing, though, I can say, and don’t forget it. He loves perfection; in jewels and vessels, in hangings, carpets and swords; in horses, women and boys. No, don’t look so scared; nothing dreadful will be done to you for falling short; but he might lose interest, which would be a pity. I wish to present you flawless; he will expect no less of me. But I doubt if your secret will come to light there. Let us think no more of it, and apply ourselves to useful knowledge.”

Till now, as I found, he had been like the musician who takes up an unknown harp or lyre, testing its resonance. Now lessons began in earnest.

Already I hear the voice of one who has known no more of slavery than to cl?ap his hands and give orders, crying out, “The shameless dog, to boast of how he was debauched in youth by one corrupted before him.” To such I reply that I had been debauched for a year already, rolled in mire without help or hope; and now to be tended like something exquisite seemed not corruption but the glimpse of some blissful heaven. So too, after being the sport of rutting swine, seemed the subtle music of the senses. It came to me easily, as if by nature or remembrance. At home, I had sometimes had sensual dreams; if let alone, no doubt I should have been precocious. All this had been altered in me, yet not killed.

Like a poet who can sing of battles though not a warrior, I could conjure the images of desire, without suffering the sharpness of its wounds which I knew too well. I could make the music, its pauses and its cadenzas; Oromedon said I was like one who can play for the dancers, yet not dance. It was his own nature to take delight in the measure he gave it; yet I triumphed with him. Then he said, “I don’t think, Gazelle-Eyes, you have very much more to learn.”

His words dismayed me like news unknown before. I clung to him, saying, “Do you love me? You don’t only want to teach me? Will you be sorry when I am gone?”

“Have you learned to break hearts already?” he said. “I never taught you that.”

“But do you love me?” I had asked it of no one since my mother died.

“Never say that to him. It would be considered far too oncoming.”

I looked into his face; relenting, he hugged me like a child, which did not seem strange to me. “Truly I love you, and when you go I shall be desolate.” He spoke like one who reassures a child against ghosts and darkness. “But then comes tomorrow. I would be cruel to make you pledges; I may never see you again. If I do, maybe I cannot speak to you, and then you would think me false. I promised not to lie to you. When we serve the great, they are our destiny. Count upon nothing, but make your own nest against the storm … Do you see this?”

His brow had a scar, growing old and pale. I had thought it gave him distinction. Among my father’s friends, anyone without a scar or two seemed scarcely like a man. “How did you get it?” I asked.

“I was thrown at the hunt, doing something that needed doing. It was that same horse you rode; it’s still mine, you see; I have not been treated shabbily. But he can’t bear flawed things. So try not to get yourself knocked about”

“I would love you,” I said, “if you were covered with scars all over. Did he send you away?”

“Oh, no, I am very well provided for. Nothing is done unhandsomely. But I belong no more with the perfect vase and the polished gem. Don’t build upon the wind, Gazelle-Eyes. That is the last of my lessons. May you not be too young to bear it, for you are not too young to need it. We had better get up. I shall see you again tomorrow.”

“Do you mean,” I said, “that tomorrow will be the last?”

“Perhaps. There is one more lesson after all. I have never told you the proper motions of the prostration.”

“Prostration?” I said puzzled. “But they do that for the King.”

“Just so,” he said. “Well, that took you long enough.”

I stared at him in a kind of stupor. Then I cried aloud, “I can’t do it! I can’t, I can’t.”

“Whatever is this, after all my trouble? Don’t stare with those great eyes as if I’d brought you a death warrant, instead of your fortune.”

“You never told me!” I grasped him in terror till my nails dug in. He loosened them gently.

“I dropped you hints enough; it was clear you’d do. But you see, till you are accepted in the Household, you are on probation. It is assumed you might fail, and be turned away. Then, if you had known whose service you were training for, it was thought you might know too much.”

I threw myself on my face, convulsed with weeping. “Come,” he said, and wiped my eyes on the sheet. “You have nothing, truly, to fear. He’s had some hard times, and is in need of consolation. I am telling you, you will do very well indeed; and I ought to know.”

-3-

I WAS SOME days in the Palace, before being presented. I thought I should never learn my way about this high maze of splendors; everywhere tall columns of marble or porphyry or malachite, with gilded capitals and twisted shafts; on every wall reliefs, colored and glazed brighter than life, of marching warriors, or tribute-bearers from the further empire, leading bulls or dromedaries, bearing bales or jars. When one lost one’s direction, one seemed alone in a solemn crowd, with nobody to ask.

In the eunuchs’ courtyard I was received without much warmth, as being destined for privilege; but for the same reason, none treated me ill, lest I should take my grudges with me.

It was on the fourth day, that I saw Darius.

He had been taking wine and hearing music. The room gave onto a small fountain court, sweet with the scent of lilies; in the flowering trees hung gold cages of bright birds. By the fountain the musicians were putting up their instruments; but the water and the birds made a soft murmuring concert. The court had high walls, and was part of the room’s seclusion.

He was on his cushions, looking into the courtyard; by him on the low table were the wine-jug and empty cup. I knew him at once for the man at my father’s birthday feast. But he had been dressed then for a long ride up rough roads. Now he was robed in purple worked with white, and wore the Mitra; the light kind he used when at ease. His beard was combed like silk, and he smelled of Arabian spices.

I walked with downcast eyes behind the chamberlain. One must not look up at the King; so I could not tell if he remembered me, or whether I found favor. When my name was pronounced, I prostrated myself as I had been taught, and kissed the floor before him. His slipper was of soft dyed kid, crimson, embroidered with sequins and gold wire.

The eunuch took the wine-tray and placed it in my hands. As I backed out of the Presence, I thought I heard a faint stir among the cushions.

That night I was admitted to the Bedchamber, to assist at the disrobing. Nothing happened, except that I was given things to hold till the appointed person took them away. I tried to show grace and be a credit to my teacher. It seemed he had given me advanced instruction; in reality, some allowance was made for a beginner. For the next night, while we waited for the King to enter, an old eunuch, whose every wrinkle spoke of vast experience, whispered in my ear, “If His Majesty should beckon you, do not leave with the others, but wait and see if he has any more commands for you.”

I remembered my training; watched under my eyelids for the beckoning; did not stand about, but occupied myself in a seemly way; and recognized, when we were alone, the signal to undress. I laid my clothes out of sight; I only failed in walking up with a smile. I was so scared, I knew it would look like a sheepish grin; so I approached grave and trustful, hoping for the best, as the bed was folded back for me.

At first he kissed and dandled me like a doll. Later I divined what was required of me, for I had been well prepared; and it seemed I was acceptable. Certainly, as Oromedon had said, I was never betrayed into pain by pleasure. In all the time I was with him, he gave no sign of knowing a eunuch can feel anything. One does not tell such things to the King of Kings, if he does not ask.

I was to be enjoyed, like the flame and crimson birds, the fountain and the lutes; and this I soon learned to manage, without jarring his dignity. I was never insulted, never humiliated, never handled roughly. I was dismissed with a civil word, if he was still awake; and often next morning a gift would come. But I too had learned to understand pleasure. He was getting on for fifty, and in spite of the baths and the sprinkled perfume, already he began to smell rather old. For some time, in the royal bed, my one wish was to change this great tall bearded man for the supple body of Oromedon. But it is not for the perfect vase or the polished gem to choose their owners.

If I grew disconten?ted, I had only to remember my former lot. The King was a man jaded with too much pleasure, but unwilling to put it by. I achieved for him what he needed; he was content and gracious. When I thought of those others, the greedy rough hands and stinking breath and nasty wishes, I was shocked that I had felt a moment’s repining, and I showed my master the gratitude I felt.

Soon I waited on most of his leisure. He gave me a beautiful little horse, to ride in the royal park with him. No wonder Paradise was named after such a place. For generations, the kings had had rare trees and flowering shrubs brought from all over Asia; full-grown trees sometimes, with their roots and soil, needing a train of oxcarts, and an army of gardeners to tend them on the way. The game, too, was choice; at the hunt, they would drive it towards the King to shoot at, and when he killed we would all applaud.

One day he remembered that I sang, and asked to hear me. My voice was never wonderful, like some eunuchs’, which far surpass women’s both in strength and sweetness; it was pretty and clear, when I was a boy. I fetched in the little harp my old mistress had bought in the bazaar. He was as shocked as if I had brought in some piece of offal. “Whatever is that thing? Why did you not ask someone for a proper instrument?” He saw my dismay and said kindly, “No, I understand your modesty prevented you. But take it away. When you have something fit to play on, then you shall sing.”

I was given a harp of tortoise-shell and boxwood, with ivory keys, and had lessons with the Chief Musician. But one day, before I had learned his difficult pieces, I sat on the fountain-rim in the sunset light, and remembered it slanting far across the plain from our walls at home. When he asked me for a song, I gave one that my father’s warriors used to sing at night by the watch-fire.

When I had done, he beckoned me over; I saw he had tears in his eyes. “That song,” he said, “sets your poor father before me. What happy days gone by, when we were young together. He was a faithful friend to Arses, whose spirit may the Wise God receive; had he lived, he would have been welcomed here as a friend of mine. Be sure, my boy, I shall never forget you are his son.”

He laid on my head his jeweled hand. Two of his friends were there, and the Chief Steward; from this moment, as he had meant, my standing at the court was changed. I was no longer a bought pleasure-boy, but a favorite of gentle birth, and they were all to know it. I was to know, too, that if my looks were damaged or went off, he would still look after me.

I was given a charming room in the Upper Household, with a window on the park, and my own slave; an Egyptian, who tended me like a prince. I was fourteen, my looks were changing from boy to youth. I heard the King tell friends that he had foreseen my promise, and I had fulfilled it; he did not believe that for beauty all Asia contained my equal. They would of course agree that I surpassed comparison. Certainly I learned to carry myself as if it were true.

His bed was canopied with a lattice, bearing a pure gold vine. Jeweled grape-clusters hung from it, and a great fretted lamp. Sometimes at night, when it threw on us its leaflike shadows, he would stand me by the bed, and turn me here and there to take the light. I thought this possession of the eyes would have contented him, but for his respect for his manhood.

However, on other nights he wanted entertainment. The world seems full of people who desire the same thing each time, not enduring the least change in it; this is tedious, but does not tax invention. The King liked variety and surprise; himself he was not inventive. I had run through all that Oromedon had taught me, and began wondering when the day would come for me, too, to start training my successor. There had been a boy before me, I had found out, who had been packed off after a week, because the King found him insipid.

In search of ideas, I visited the most famous whore in Susa, a Babylonian, who claimed to have trained at ?some temple of love in India. To prove it, she had a bronze in her room (bought I daresay, if truth were told, from a passing caravan) of two demons, with six or eight arms apiece, having intercourse while dancing. I doubted this would delight the King, but kept my hopes. Such women will always oblige a eunuch now and then; they get more men than enough; but her crude squirmings so disgusted me that without regard for good manners, I got up and dressed. As I put down my gold piece, I said I would pay for her time, since I had wasted it, but I could not stay to instruct her. She was so angry, I was halfway downstairs before she found her voice. So I was thrown on my own resource, since it seemed there was no one better.

It was then that I learned to dance.

As a child I had liked it, following the men, or prancing and spinning to some tune out of my head. I knew, if I were taught, I still had it in me. The King was glad for me to learn accomplishments (I did not mention the Babylonian) and hired me the best master in the city. It was not like my infant games; one had to train as hard as a soldier; but this I welcomed. It is idling makes eunuchs flabby; standing about, gossiping, waiting for something to do. It was good to get in a sweat and stir my blood.

So, when my tutor said I was ready, I danced in the fountain court for the King and his friends; an Indian dance with a turban and spangled loincloth; a Greek dance (so I believed) in a scarlet chiton; a Parthian dance with a little gilded scimitar. Even the Lord Oxathres, the King’s brother, who had always looked down his nose at me because he liked only women, called out “Bravo!” and tossed me a piece of gold.

By day I danced in my finery; at night too I danced, wearing only the shadows of the fretted lamp that hung from the golden vine. I soon learned to slow down the pace towards the end; he never gave me time to get my breath.

I often wondered if he would have set such store by me if the Queen had not been captive. She was his half-sister, by a much younger wife of their father, and was of an age to have been his daughter. They said she was the loveliest woman in all Asia; of course he would be content with nothing less. Now he had lost her to a barbarian younger than she, and, from his deeds, it would seem hot-blooded. Of course he never spoke of such things to me. Indeed, once in bed he hardly spoke at all.

About this time, I caught a summer fever. Neshi, my slave from Egypt, nursed me with much kindness. The King sent me his own physician; but he never came himself.

I remembered Oromedon’s scar. Since my mirror gave me bad news, it was better so. Yet, being young, I must have had something left in me that still looked for -I don’t know what. I cried once in the night, when I was weak and silly; Neshi got up from his pallet to sponge my face. Soon after, the King sent me some gold darics, but still did not come. I gave the gold to Neshi.

It was when I was about again, and had been playing my harp in the fountain court with the King alone, that the Grand Vizier himself came in, panting with news. The Queen’s Eunuch had escaped from Alexander’s camp, and begged audience.

Had others been there, they would have been dismissed and I would have followed. But I was like the birds and the fountain, part of the appointments. Besides, when the man came in, for secrecy they spoke Greek.

No one had ever asked if I understood it. As it happened, there were several Greek jewelers in Susa, whom my old master traded with, in gems, or in me. So I had come to the Palace with a smattering, and had often passed idle time by listening to the Greek interpreter. He did all kinds of business in public, between court officials and suitors to the King; fugitive tyrants from Greek cities freed by Alexander, or envoys from states like Athens, which he had spared, as it seemed, to intrigue against him; generals of Greek mercenaries, shipmasters and spies. With all the Persian repeated in Greek, it was easy to learn by ear.

Impatient even through the? prostration, the King asked if his family was alive. The eunuch said yes, and in good health; moreover, they were given their royal rank, and fitting quarters. This, he said (he was an oldish man and looked the worse for his long journey), was how he had escaped so easily; the guard on the royal women was posted more to keep intruders out, than anyone in.

On the ends of his chair-arms I could see the King’s hands working. No wonder. What he had to ask should not be asked of a servant.

“Never, my lord!” The eunuch’s gesture called God to witness. “My lord, he has not come even into her presence since the day after the battle, when he came to promise his safeguard. We were there all the time; he, also, brought a friend with him. I have heard that his companions, in their wine, recalled the fame of her beauty, and urged him to change his mind; and he too had been drinking, as all Macedonians do, yet he was angry, and forbade them to name her in his presence again. One who was there assured me of it.”

The King was some time silent. Having given a long sigh, he said in Persian, “What a strange man.” I thought he would go on to ask what he looked like, which I myself wished to know; but of course, he had seen him in the battle.