Thief of Corinth

by Tessa Afshar

  My people sometimes abandon babies when they are imperfect or damaged in some way. Undesirable children are left to die by exposure—or to be saved by the gods if fortune smiles upon them.

  At first, my father thought this poor creature such a child. He pulled the blankets off the baby, seeking whatever disfigurement had precipitated its abandonment.

  He found no blemish. Save for a streak of silver hair, the babe was perfect. A healthy boy with a head full of dark hair.

  In the folds of the wool sat a gold rattle in the shape of a lion. An expensive, delicately carved piece, and certainly not a toy for a poor child.

  Hungry and cold though he must have been, the babe stopped crying the moment he had my father’s attention. When Father reached out to cover him again, he grasped the strange man’s finger and held on. Held on with fragile confidence and a strange familiarity that disarmed his visitor. My father said his heart was snared as securely as his finger in that one moment.

  It never occurred to Father he should inquire my mother’s feelings on the subject; the boy was his from that hour. He named the child Theodotus, “given of God,” for he saw Theo as fate’s gift to our family.

  Mother was not moved by the story. “If there weren’t something wrong with him, Galenos, they wouldn’t have discarded him like garbage. How could you bring that thing into my house?” She had given her husband a perfectly good baby hours before, and saw his decision to bring home a vagabond’s child an insult to her performance as wife.

  Father would not be shaken from his conviction that the child came as a blessing from the gods rather than a burden. Through the years, neither budged from their position. Theo inhabited our world, slept in our rooms, ate our food, shared our sorrows, and became part of the fabric of our lives as familiar as air and bread. But his life was divided into two halves.

  To Father, Theo was like a son. To Mother, he was a thorn and an embarrassment. Not a slave, for Father refused to make him such, nor a legal son by adoption, for Mother had drawn her line in the sand. With the passing of time, my parents’ marriage grew more frayed, and Theo occupied the space between them like a bone of contention. To Dionysius and me, he was a treasured brother and friend no matter what transpired between our parents.

  What Theo thought of this confusing clash of opinions, he never said. All I knew was that he would never leave me.

  CHAPTER 3

  WE ARRIVED AT THE HARBOR of Cenchreae seven hours after we had set sail from Piraeus. The storm that had almost drowned us had delayed our arrival by a mere two hours.

  I stared, transfixed by the beauty of Cenchreae as we pulled into the harbor, by the stunning, pale hills dotted with rugged pines that stretched over us.

  Cenchreae had grown in the years of my absence. The port had expanded almost beyond recognition, the way Corinth liked to do, with a fast pace, and an eye to quick riches. Several blocks of warehouses fronted the wharf, and surrounding the harbor sat a ring of commercial buildings and taverns divided by narrow streets.

  The broad-chested sailor who had fished us out of the sea approached us as we stood uncertainly, trying to find our bearings.

  “Going into Corinth?” he asked, biting into a fat, juicy apple. I nodded.

  “I am headed that way myself. Come. I will show you the way. I pass through the city often and know it well.” He smiled, displaying wide, even teeth. “Are you bound for the temple of Aphrodite, little men?”

  Theo’s face turned a curious shade of crimson, which made me grin. The temple of Aphrodite sat near the peak of Acrocorinth and was famed for its thousand temple prostitutes, trained slaves who catered to whims both mundane and peculiar. Sailors were known to squander a whole year’s wages there in a matter of hours.

  “That is not our destination. I take it it’s yours?” I widened my eyes at him in mock innocence.

  He smiled. “No, little man. Taharqa is too old and well married for such pastimes.”

  “Then, Taharqa, you are a rare man,” I said.

  “So young, and already a cynic. Come. I will guide your way.” He threw his apple core into the waters lapping at the dock, where it joined the leftover flotsam of numberless ships.

  We accepted Taharqa’s invitation, for in truth, the road to Corinth was no safe place for two untried boys. I treasured my city, but I could not refute the charge of immorality that the world held against her. Corinth was exciting and full of charm. It also brimmed with danger and corruption.

  The city sat at the neck of an isthmus, a narrow strip of land between the Ionian and Aegean Seas. The isthmus saved the Peloponnese from being an island and tied us to the mainland of Graecia like a belt’s buckle. Because of it, the riches of the nations poured into Corinth with regularity, for the gods had blessed Corinth with a singular gift. The only way to sail between the Ionian Sea to the west and the Aegean Sea to the east, was to traverse the long way around the Peloponnese in the Mediterranean, where many sailors had found a watery grave in those treacherous waters. Corinth provided an ingenious alternative.

  Ships brought their goods into her harbor on one side of the isthmus and off-loaded their merchandise to be transported to the opposite side using carts and wagons. There, they loaded a new ship, so that from east to west and west to east the seas were conquered by way of carts. The whole process took hardly a day, and ships avoided the rough waters south of the Peloponnese as well as a longer journey. And for this security, ship owners were happy to pay a tariff. Wares could also be stored in ventilated warehouses for a price.

  In exchange for so much aid and welcome, Corinth received exorbitant wealth. It grew explosively. Any capable man who wished to make a rapid fortune eventually made his way into one of Corinth’s harbors.

  “And what will you do, my young friends, once you arrive in Corinth? If not to Aphrodite, where are you bound?” Our Kushite companion strolled at a leisurely pace on the limestone blocks of the street and jumped onto the narrow sidewalk when carts threatened to run him over.

  “We are going to stay with a relative,” I said.

  “A relative? What is his name? Perhaps I can help you locate him.”

  I realized, too late, that Taharqa was determined to protect us from danger. His kindness, which had earlier rescued me from certain death, now irritated me. I had no use for a defender. His meddling merely complicated a delicate situation.

  My father had no idea that we were about to descend on him. I had not told Theo, but I feared that as soon as I arrived, Father would try to send me packing on the fastest ship back to Athens. He had already given in to my mother’s demands that she have full charge of his children. Why should this time prove any different merely because we were older?

  I had come on this long journey not sure of the reception I would receive. I needed time to convince Father that he should keep me with him. Time I might not have if this well-intentioned Kushite stuck his nose into my business. I certainly did not need a large, exotic sailor telling tales about the dangers we might have encountered had we been left to our own devices.

  “We know the way already. Thank you,” I lied, keeping my voice steady.

  “Are you certain? This city holds many dangers for two unaccompanied young men.”

  “We can take care of ourselves,” I said, drawing a curious glance from Theo.

  “No doubt. No doubt.” The black eyes slithered sideways from me to Theo. “Yet I ask your indulgence, young master.”

  I ground my teeth and walked on in silence.

  The journey from the harbor into Corinth lasted almost three hours as we made our way along the valley of Hexamili. The city of my birth had been built on a hill, and the way to her was steep and hard on the lungs and legs. The closer we drew to the city, the more congested the roads became. In the distance, the dusky rock of Acrocorinth cast its shadow over the metropolis that sprawled among its foothills. We passed by many new houses and villas, a suburbia that had not existed eight years before. I had forgotten how beautifu
l the wide, tree-lined avenue was, which brought us straight to the open Cenchreaen Gates.

  My eyes grew gritty and hot as we walked through those gates. I was in Corinth. I was home.

  “Look.” Theo pointed. Before us stood the breathtaking agora, one of the largest in the empire, with its new public buildings and burning bowls of fire ready to receive sacrifices. In neat rows about us were a dizzying array of shops selling fruits I had never seen, spices, fabrics, silver, olive oil, and nameless wares from across the empire. I turned and turned, trying to consume the bright sights with my thirsty eyes.

  “Which street?” said the big Kushite.

  “This way,” I pointed.

  Theo lowered his brows. He must have been wondering why I did not simply speak the truth and give the name of my father.

  The avenue had grown choked with crowds, so that the three of us could not walk abreast. Taharqa occupied the width of the whole sidewalk with his broad shoulders. I contrived to have Theo and me walk behind him, though he turned often to ensure we remained near.

  I prayed that my childhood memories had not deceived me, and what I sought would still be there. A sigh of relief escaped me when I spied the simple sign overhead with its Latin inscription that read, Lucius the Butcher. I grabbed Theo’s hand and pulled him behind me, shoving past the line of customers toward the back of the narrow store.

  “What are you doing?” Theo demanded.

  “Wait. We are almost there.” At the back I spotted the tapered door with its chipped gray paint. I hoped it had not been sealed in the intervening years, and that I had not trapped us within the confines of the diminutive store without an exit. To my relief, the door gave as I shoved, and Theo and I were disgorged into the alley that ran behind the shop, just as I had remembered.

  “Why are you trying to ditch the Kushite?” Theo said, stopping dead. “He seems an honest man. In case you had not noticed, we could use his help. I have no idea how to get to your father’s house from here. Have you?”

  “How hard can it be? We will ask for directions.”

  Theo narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know if Galenos will send us back.”

  “I am sure he will be overjoyed to see us,” I said, defiant.

  Without another word, he began to walk toward the end of the alley. “How did you know about that door in the butcher shop?” he said.

  “My mother used to send me shopping with one of the slave girls. She was sweet on the butcher’s assistant, and they would slip out the back door for a few moments of stolen chatter. I was supposed to stay in the shop and wait.”

  “Poor slave. She clearly thought you capable of following directions.” The alley had dead-ended into the main avenue. He turned right and halted abruptly.

  “That was a sleek trick.” Taharqa seemed to appear from nowhere. “I had half a mind to let you go your way. Then I saw a boy with painted lips and blank eyes and my heart took pity on you. Now stop wasting my time and tell me the name of this relative, if he exists, or I will take you to the magistrate.”

  “His name is Galenos,” Theo said. “He lives in a large villa to the north. We would welcome your help.”

  “Traitor!” My elbow aimed for his ribs. Theo sidestepped neatly and avoided my assault. He did not contradict me often. When he did, I knew neither resistance nor whining would gain me an advantage.

  Taharqa delivered us to the door of Father’s villa in less than half an hour. I stood before that open door and shook.

  A slave I did not recognize led us into the courtyard and went to fetch my father. I wrapped my arms about my stomach, feeling nauseous, feeling elated, fighting a contrary desire to run away.

  He did not notice me at first, his attention fixed on the large Kushite stranger standing in his courtyard. His hair had thinned and grayed and there were new lines on his forehead. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and found my mouth too dry.

  “How may I help you?” he asked.

  “I have brought you a couple of visitors,” the sailor said, sweeping his hand in our direction. “They say they know you.”

  Father saw Theo first. “Theodotus!” With a leaping step, he enveloped my foster brother in an embrace. “My boy! Has something happened?” He gave me a blank gaze before turning his face back to Theo. Midmotion, he stopped, arrested.

  “Ariadne? Dear girl! My child!” He pulled me roughly into his arms, weeping and uttering endearments. Theo joined us in the circle of his arms. We had grown too big to fit well, I noticed. But it didn’t matter. I had found safety again. I had come home.

  In Grandfather’s house, I had learned not to waste my tears. In the shelter of my father’s love, tears came freely, until I turned into a human waterfall, moisture pouring from eyes and nose and dribbling on Dionysius’s clothing, which I still wore.

  “You two rascals. How did you get here?” my father asked when the lightning shock of seeing us passed and he had been assured of Dionysius’s safety. “Where did you get these bruises? And what happened to your hair?” he asked me. Without waiting for a response he addressed Taharqa. “Sir, I thank you with my whole heart for bringing my son and daughter to me.”

  “Daughter?”

  “Yes. This is Ariadne.”

  The Kushite laughed. “It seems I should have asked her to keep me safe in Corinth. Until this moment, this sly girl had me convinced she was a boy.”

  “How odd. Did Celandine not tell you?”

  “Who is Celandine?”

  My father went still. “Who asked you to bring the children to me?”

  “No one. They boarded our ship unattended.”

  Father whipped his head toward me. “You ran away,” he accused.

  “Well, I didn’t exactly run.” I loosened the awkwardly bulky cloak. “I climbed.”

  CHAPTER 4

  TO HIS CREDIT, Taharqa said nothing to muddy the waters of my situation. He bowed with dignity. “I will take my leave of you, Master Galenos,” he said. “I only wished to ensure these two adventurers came to no harm.”

  Upon discovering that the sailor had not only delivered us safely into his hands but had also rescued us from drowning, my father insisted that the Kushite stay to supper and sent him to the dining room to partake of a meal worthy of an emperor. Theo and I were given a bowl of tepid water to wash our hands and faces, while a slave hurriedly cleaned our feet, before we were unceremoniously bundled into the tablinum, the room usually reserved for Father’s business.

  “Explain yourselves. Leave nothing out. If Celandine and Dexios are going to show up at my door, I want to have ample warning of what I am facing.” Father paced as he spoke, though he stopped every few moments to stroke my hair or squeeze Theo’s shoulder.

  “Grandfather wants to marry me off to a monster.”

  Father came to an abrupt halt. “To whom?”

  “Draco, the son of Evandos.”

  “Evandos the magistrate?” Father curled his lip. “Was it an empty threat?” He looked at Theo as he asked the question.

  “Have you known Dexios to make empty threats?” My foster brother hunched his shoulders and leaned forward. “I fear it’s my fault we have turned up here. The old wolf threatened to beat me if Ariadne would not obey him.”

  “He wanted to ensure I was wed by next month.”

  “Why the haste?” Father crossed his arms and leaned back against the table.

  I shrugged, wiping my face of expression. “Ask him.”

  Father did not move. I squirmed under his scrutiny. “I may have thrown a cup of wine at Mother. It was very watered down. Hardly pink. I doubt it will leave a stain.”

  Father sat down, looking older than his years.

  “May I ask what precipitated this display of appalling discourtesy?”

  “She informed me that she had started working on my wedding garments.”

  “I see. As I recall, Celandine is an able seamstress. I trust it is not the quality of her workmanship to which you objected?”

>   “No. It’s the quality of her mothering. Draco is ruthless. He beat Alcmena, Grandfather’s slave. She is only fifteen. Grandfather gave him permission to . . .”

  “Bed her,” Theo interjected.

  “Right. But I doubt even the old man expected Draco to treat the girl so savagely.”

  “I was there when the physician tended her,” Theo said. “She will never fully recover. That boy ought to be whipped.”

  “Instead of shielding me against Grandfather’s demand that I marry such a man, Mother informed me that she was making my wedding garments.”

  Father looked at Theo. My foster brother lowered his eyes. “In the past eight years, Ariadne has spent more time locked up in the women’s quarters than out of them. She has been beaten, starved, insulted, and threatened. The marriage to Draco is the last in a long litany of daily injuries. That boy is not right in the head. I would not allow him to join a cohort of bloodthirsty soldiers, let alone become bridegroom to a young woman. Dexios has convinced himself that Draco’s treatment of Alcmena was an aberration due to too much drink. But any fool can see that Ariadne would be safer living with a wild bear.”

  Father swore under his breath. “You never said, when you wrote me.”

  “They would only send you the letters that had no complaints in them. We learned quickly that if we denounced anything about our circumstances, they destroyed our messages, and to chastise us, they withheld the letters you sent to us, as well.”

  Father seemed confounded by that bit of information. He stared at us, mouth hanging open.

  “You can’t send me back,” I whispered. “Don’t you want me?” My heart cracked as I said the words out loud.

  Father fell to his knees before me. “Of course I want you!”

  “Why did you send me away, then? Why did you leave us there? You never even tried to fetch us.”