Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

  “No wonder, if it costs them a fortune instead of making them a fortune!” Then Wona’s mind fixed on another aspect. “That means the captains have to be rich to start with.”

  “Yes. That’s why it is limited to citizens of high standing. Others would not be able to afford it.”

  “So such a citizen would be a good one to many.”

  Now Jes got her drift. “Yes, if he needed a wife.”

  “Suddenly I am interested in trieres.”

  Jes shook her head. “It’s the wealthy or prominent citizens you are interested in. During the year they serve on ship, they aren’t available at home. You need to catch one before or after his public service.”

  “But by the same token, he will be in need of female companionship during that year, and perhaps less choosy about it. It is surely a good time to make the acquaintance.”

  “There are hetaerae in plenty for such needs.” Those were the women of easy virtue. It was an honorable profession, but not what Wona was looking for.

  “When the ship is abroad?”

  Jes considered. “I suppose not when it is between ports. But you don’t like roughing it in die country, any better than any other woman does.”

  Wona sighed. “True. So Athens remains the best hunting ground.”

  Jes agreed. She hoped Wona would find a suitable man soon, because she was getting homesick for her family. Sam should have returned by now, with his trading goods, and would be adjusting to the loss of Wona. Ned would be free of her. New things would be happening. Even if life was lean, it was her life, and she wanted it back.

  Sam viewed his home farm with evident joy. “This is where I live,” he told Snow. “Now you can marry my brother Ned.”

  Snow smiled, though she was oddly sad. “I haven’t met him yet. He may not like me.”

  “Any man will like you, once he knows you. You are beautiful.”

  How she wished such words were sincere! “You are kind to say so, Sam.”

  Soon the approaching pair was spied. A young girl sounded the alarm and charged across the landscape to meet them. Then she halted, realizing that one of them was a stranger.

  “My little sister Lin,” Sam said, beckoning to the girl.

  “She is lovely.”

  “Like you,” he said.

  “No, I mean she really is. She is about to be an outstanding woman.”

  Sam did not reply, but his jaw tightened. That was odd. He clearly loved his sister, but there was something he wasn’t saying. The girl certainly was beautiful in face and body, unlike Snow, who had only body. What was his reservation?

  Shy, now, Lin approached. “Who—”

  “This is Snow,” Sam said. “She has come to marry Ned.”

  “To meet Ned,” Snow said quickly. Sam was a wonderful man, but somewhat short on social finesse.

  Lin turned an abruptly appraising gaze on Snow. “Maybe so,” she said after a moment. “Flo will decide.”

  “Flo will decide,” Snow agreed, relieved that there was someone else to make such decisions. What would be, would be.

  “Snow is really nice,” Sam said, defensively. “Ned will like her.”

  Lin considered a moment more. Then she smiled brilliantly, as if something wonderful had just happened. “I’ll tell Flo!” She spun about and ran back toward the farm, exuberantly leaping across rocks and plants.

  “Lin’s a great kid,” Sam said as they followed more sedately.

  “Any moment now she will be a lovely young woman,” Snow said firmly. What was the mystery about her?

  Sam stared hard at the ground. “I think I must tell you. Did you see her hand?”

  “Yes. Her fingers are delicate and well formed.” Then she realized that she had seen only the girl’s right hand. The left had been kept out of sight. “Something is wrong with the left hand?”

  “She has six fingers.”

  Suddenly it came together. “You say Lin is lovely, like me. You mean that one feature spoils all the rest.”

  Sam looked everywhere but at her. “I didn’t mean—”

  “She has a deformed hand. I have a homely face.”

  “I don’t care about either!” Sam exclaimed. “I love—” He balked, flustered. “I love my sister.”

  He was socially clumsy, yet of good motive. Snow wished that he weren’t already married. She would marry his brother, who was surely a fine young man, but she knew already that he could never be the same as Sam.

  Now two figures appeared: Lin and a massive older woman. That would be Flo, the true leader of the family. Snow felt suddenly nervous. Where would she go, if Flo rejected her?

  The four of them came together. Flo took the initiative. “Hello, Sam. Hello, Snow. We must talk.”

  “I brought her home for—” Sam started.

  “Of course. Sam, you go catch up with the others. This way, Snow.”

  Sam hesitated, then shrugged and followed Lin away.

  Bemused, Snow followed the woman to “the station where she had been scraping a sheep hide. It was a messy, tedious job. “I can do that,” Snow said quickly. “I am a sheep-herder’s daughter.”

  “We’ll both do it,” Flo said, handing her a bronze scraper.

  They got to work on the hide. Snow expected the fat woman to ask about her background and reason for coming here, and she would answer directly, without dwelling on her grief. But Flo surprised her.

  “Sam isn’t married anymore.”

  Snow stared at her. “But he told me—”

  “He doesn’t know it yet. Lin’s telling him now. His faithless wife has gone to Athens to find a richer man. We will not see her again.”

  Snow fumbled for words. “She left him? Without word? What kind of woman would—?”

  “We arranged it. She wasn’t pulling her weight, and she seduced Ned. We had to be rid of her. While Sam was away. You understand.”

  Snow nodded. Sam would never have agreed to such a thing, yet if his wife were faithless, and with Sam’s brother, it had to be done. So this was no simple family situation. “You want me to go elsewhere? I never intended to complicate things.”

  “Do you love Sam?”

  Shaken, Snow could only confess the truth. “Yes. But I never told him—we never—I thought he was—”

  “Married. And Sam is an honorable man. We want him untouched by scandal. Never speak of what his wife did with his brother.”

  “I will never speak of it,” Snow agreed. “It would hurt him to know. He spoke very well of Ned, recommending him to me. He said Ned wouldn’t mind that I had been raped.”

  Flo’s mouth tightened, and Snow remembered belatedly that Flo herself had been raped. ‘True. We understand about such things.”

  “And that Ned judged by other things than—than faces. I’m sure he is a fine—”

  “Ned is. He is a brilliant man, and a kind one. Sam meant well. But you will marry Sam. You are obviously the woman for him.”

  A dam within her burst. Flo had put things together so quickly, so well. Snow’s tears flowed.

  “Sam is not brilliant,” Flo continued. “But he has fair judgment. We know he would not have brought you home for Ned, were you not a fine woman, and I can see that you are. You would have been very good for Ned. But it would not be fair for Sam to lose a second woman to his brother. Lin says Sam loves you. Lin is very sharp about such things.”

  “I think he does,” Snow agreed.

  “This solves our problem. We feared that Sam would be upset. Now he will not be. You will share his room tonight, and marry him when convenient. It will be clear to all that you had no guilt in his loss of Wona, because she left before you came.” She stood and laid one heavy arm across Snow’s shoulders. “Welcome to the family. These are lean times, but I think you will like us well enough.”

  Snow nodded, trying to wipe away her tears. It was so sudden, so unexpected. She had been so careful not to compromise Sam, and now she could love him openly. She had indeed been aware of his gr
owing feeling for her, and his guilt about that feeling, and she had felt guilt for returning it. But she had never said anything, respecting his determination to do the right thing. She knew that Sam would gladly marry her, and would not much question the disappearance of his former wife. The sisters had efficiently put it together, wasting no time.

  Things went well enough, in Athens, except for one thing: Wona still couldn’t find a man. She wouldn’t take anything less than a full citizen, and citizens had their choice of women of the lower echelons, so there was a good deal of competition. She could, and occasionally did, spend the night with a prospect, and it seemed that she impressed such men favorably, but they were not looking to marry. For one thing, there was the war with Sparta, and everyone who was anyone was making desperate preparations for the resumption of hostilities. It was not a time for making long-range commitments.

  Sure enough, in the spring, the Spartan army marched into Attica again. Athens did have ground forces, but they were outnumbered two to one, and could not stand against the invaders. So the Athenian soldiers retreated, delaying the Spartan advance as much as was feasible, while the population of the countryside poured into the city. The people actually dismantled the wood structures of their homes and used the material to build crude huts within Athens. These had poor ventilation, and were called “swelterings” in summer. It was not yet summer, but already they stank. As more and more people crowded in, the shelters spread onto holy ground normally reserved for the temples, and many squatters took up residence in the temples themselves. The priests didn’t like it, of course, but there was not a lot they could do about it. These were, after all, supporters of Athens, seeking succor in their time of need, and theoretically the temples were for the benefit of the people.

  Fortunately the competent statesman Perikles, who had lost his position as a strategoi, as a member of the governing board of ten generals, earlier that year, was back. Popular opinion had rebounded in his favor, because his enemies had turned out to be far less capable, if not actually incompetent. Maybe, the common folk thought, this siege would not have occurred if Perikles had been at the helm. So Perikles had returned to power.

  Now Jes and Wona saw what it was like from inside. The city doubled in size, and there was hardly room for all the refugees. Extensive camps formed just within the walls, and strangers thronged the market places. Rental units became precious. The landlords raised the rent, knowing that if the renters didn’t pay it, someone else would. Prices rose, especially for food.

  There was also more crime. Jes had to assume her masculine form and carry a weapon in an obvious manner; otherwise they would have been assailed by robbers who were looking for food and silver, but would not be averse to a bit of rape on the side. Even with the weapon, they had to be careful, and stay clear of certain regions, lest they be overwhelmed by disreputable groups of hungry men. On occasion there were mobs of women, too; they robbed for silver and food and clothing, but didn’t rape.

  Crockson was very good about it. He hired guards to protect the workers, and sometimes when the mobs were bad, the guards would see the women home. He hired women from the refugees. Jes assumed some managerial duties, because it was not possible for Crockson to monitor the larger number by himself, and she was paid extra. She had not made the deal to stay a year, but she saw how easy it would be to make that deal, should she ever change her mind.

  But what she really wanted was to be back home. She hated this crowded city, where the forest was not even visible, and neighbor had to be wary of neighbor. She had thought this would be a fairly brief mission; instead it was dragging out interminably. She couldn’t really blame Wona for that; in any other times, the woman should have been able to land a citizen. It was this disruptive war that changed everything. What could be worse?

  Too soon, they found out. One of the new workers developed a rash. “You must go home immediately,” Crock-son said, alarmed.

  “But I haven’t finished my work,” the woman protested. What she meant was that she hadn’t been paid yet, and she needed the money.

  Crockson gave her several small silver obols. “Go home and get well. There will be work for you then.”

  “But it is not safe alone on the street.”

  Crockson was beginning to look desperate. Jes didn’t understand why he was making such a fuss, as the woman’s illness did not seem to be serious. But she stepped in to help. “I can take you home.”

  “A woman?” the woman asked doubtfully.

  “She will suffice,” Crockson said, bringing Jes’s outdoor cloak.

  Jes did her best to mask her shock. Her club was concealed in the cloak, and he had to be aware of its presence. He had, it seemed, caught on to her masquerade, and not told. The man did have discretion. She had been foolishly sure she was undetected.

  Jes donned the peplos, and they stepped out onto the street. Wona remained working, knowing that Jes would return. The moment they were out, Jes paused to redo her hair and make herself into a man. The woman, evidently feeling worse, seemed not to notice.

  They walked to the camp where the woman lived. A rough-looking man eyed them, but Jes lifted her club in a nominally friendly salute, and he turned away. Had she been seen as a woman, he would not have. Then she would have had to club him, swiftly, before he could do damage, perhaps attracting attention. Attention, in such a situation, could be deadly, because it summoned ruffians in the manner of hungry sharks. This way was better.

  The woman was fading rapidly. Jes had to take her by the elbow to steady her, lest she fall. Crockson was right: this was more than an incidental malady.

  They reached the woman’s temporary hovel. She collapsed on her dirty straw bed. No one else was there. “You have a family?” Jes asked, concerned.

  “Yes. Working. They will be home soon. Thank you.”

  Not entirely satisfied, but anxious to get away from this unpleasant section and back to work, Jes left her lying there and made her way down the alleys. Obviously Crockson recognized the illness; she would ask him about it.

  “It is the plague,” Crockson told her grimly. “I have seen it elsewhere. First the rash, then sickness in the gut, and it can get so intense there is blood in the refuse. Many die.”

  “It is that bad?” Jes did not like the sound of this, as she had been exposed to it.

  He nodded gravely. “I think I won’t get it, because I survived it before. I never felt worse in my life! There was swelling under my arms and in my groin, and—never mind. I heard rumors of an outbreak a few days ago, but did not want to believe it, and did not want to help spread false panic. After all, there are many illnesses in these crowded conditions, and most are not serious. But now there is no doubt. I have some advice I hate to give you.”

  “Advice?”

  “Get out of here. Out of Athens. So you won’t catch it. Believe me, you don’t want it. Come back when it’s gone.”

  “But the city is already under siege! How can we—?”

  “At night, perhaps. The Spartans can’t watch every cranny all the time. If they see you, Wona may have to—you know. Distract the men for a while. But you may be able to get away.”

  “But my work here—”

  “I value your work highly. But you will be of no use to me if you die from the plague. Take your friend and go today. Here is your pay.” He gave her a small bag of silver coins. She could tell by the heft of it that it was worth far more than he owed them.

  “I think your advice is good,” she said. “I think you are a decent man.”

  “It’s a business decision,” he said, embarrassed. “And I’m not doing it for the others. I want you to return to run my shop.”

  She knew better. The silver was really a gift. “Thank you,” she said, touched by his generosity. Then she collected Wona, and they left.

  But the news of the plague was already circulating. Crockson was not the only one who had heard rumors. It seemed that the fever had appeared in several parts of the city.
People were starting to panic. The already-stressed veneer of law was rupturing, and brigands, ready to ply their trade the moment any opportunity arose, were openly attacking people, as if not concerned about any penalties. They were probably correct.

  They went to their apartment and gathered up their things. Then, as evening approached, they headed for the nearest gate.

  “Magic amulets for sale,” a street hawker called. “Protection against the plague.”

  “I want one of those,” Wona said. Before Jes could protest, she signaled the hawker, who came right over.

  Jes clenched her jaw. It was the woman’s right to waste a coin on magic if she chose to.

  They resumed their trek to the gate. It was closed. “Go back,” the guard, called. “The city is under siege.”

  They knew that. But the guard wasn’t amenable to their logic of going out under cover of darkness. “You think it’s some kind of picnic out there?” he demanded. “They’re slaughtering first and asking questions second. Go back into the city, you fools.”

  Jes cursed herself for not realizing that of course it would be this way. She and Wona should have left the city before the plague, not after it struck. Before the siege. They had indeed been fools.

  “Maybe we can go to Piraeus and catch a merchant ship,” Wona said, horrified. “They’re full when they come in, but empty when they go out, aren’t they?”

  “Maybe,” Jes agreed doubtfully, still cursing herself for her lack of foresight.

  They made their way to the doubly walled road to the port city. But as soon as they reached it, they saw it was hopeless. The region between the walls was jammed with the temporary structures of the refugees, and they could hear the groans of a number with the plague. There might or might not be a ship out, but they would have to go through the thick of the illness to reach it.

  Well, if that was the way it was, they had better brave it now, before it got any worse. “How is it in Piraeus?” Jes asked a guard at the gate between the walled channel and Athens proper.