HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods

by Coffey, J. A.

  “He would have killed the girl, had I not intervened! You know this!” Aesop’s voice continued. “He…he is unwell, Iadmon. And he will not leave her be! Remember the amount of coin you had to pay restitution to appease the other women’s families? Send the boy back to his mother on Samos.”

  “Aesop, you have been a faithful teacher and I know your words are true. But I will not confine my son to a bit of floating rock. He is my heir. My only son.”

  “Better that rock, than a prison. He will face ostracism, here. Especially after it becomes known he beat that courtesan to death.”

  The breath whooshed from my lungs. The lovely woman, whose shawl I’d coveted…dead? She’d never returned. I’d thought her very wealthy, to have forgotten such a treasure. Dead? Perspiration broke out under my arms.

  “Why should they care so much about one chamaitype? There are hundreds of whores roaming the city.” But Iadmon sounded afraid.

  “She was not a simple whore and you know it. She was a hetaera. The Abderans regard them almost as highly as the Athenians do.”

  Iadmon sighed. “Then we shall leave Abdera. We can go to Thebes or Knossos. I hear they have a very fine assembly there. You can teach him to be a proper man, be his mentor.”

  “And then?” Aesop was angry now. “Will the assembly protect the women of Knossos from your son? Will they protect your slave, Doricha? Your property?” Aesop thundered. “Will both you and your son be denied the Elysian Fields because of injustices inflicted on your chattel?”

  “Calm down, Aesop. We are upstanding citizens; we are good and pious people. We make many sacrifices. They would not dare!”

  “Who knows what may be in the hearts of the gods?” Aesop resorted to his maddening defense of dispute by way of questioning. “Are they rulers of men, or by men do they rule? Think carefully. You may well risk your soul on the answer.”

  There was another long pause.

  So, we were all to move away to another city, another terror-filled, rented house where The Swine would attack me as he pleased, simply because his father refused to send him away. I could not bear to live in this house, or to move to any other. Ah, such was the life of a slave, and how well I’d learnt it. What is a female slave compared to a son?

  I’d had enough of skulking in hallways. Being privy to my master’s thoughts did me little good for I could not speak for myself. I might as well find out what fate awaited me.

  “You sent for me?” I entered and knelt before Iadmon, affixing my vision to the stone tiles at Iadmon’s feet.

  I remembered the anguish in my father’s voice as he called for me to run, to live free. He knew, I thought. He knew.

  “Come in, girl.” Iadmon spoke, breaking the awkward silence. “I have decided.”

  I bowed my head, no ready argument on my lips. His decision was fixed already. What could I say to sway him?

  “A slave is not his own man.” Iadmon continued. “He can make no choice on where to build his home, nor the path by which he will earn his food and keep. There is danger in the world, for a slave. I have decided, therefore, I will grant you your freedom.”

  I could not believe my ears!

  My breath caught in my throat. My heart nearly burst from my chest. The gods shone on me this day, to grant me the freedom I so desperately desired. An overwhelming wave of relief flooded me. I would not have to stay in this household. I would not have to stay, at all!

  Then, I lifted my gaze from the floor and saw my master’s stare directed not at me, but at Aesop. My old mentor appeared almost as shocked as I.

  Then, I saw red.

  The color flushed and crawled its way up Aesop’s neck to the skin under his beard and stained his cheeks. He opened his lips, closed them, and opened them again, but for once, he had nothing to say.

  I fisted my hands at my sides. I burned and froze inside my soul. Aesop was my friend, my mentor! He was the only one who protected me. Without him I would be utterly alone.

  “They cannot come for you if you are not here, Aesop. In this one thing, let me be your teacher. This solves everything. You are free, my friend. Wander far from Greece. Your knowledge is wasted on us all.”

  Aesop took one stumbling step forward. He almost tripped over me as I knelt before Iadmon. I think he’d quite forgotten me.

  Aesop clasped Iadmon’s hand and embraced him. They towered over me, like a rocking column of manhood. As a mere woman, I was still on my knees, alone, and cowering beneath them.

  “Now, then. As to the other matter. Take this girl to Samos. Let her work in my wife’s household.” Iadmon released him.

  Aesop frowned. “That is unwise. They are one and the same. Your son will follow her there.”

  “Why should he? He detests his mother’s house. And there are plenty of women here or wherever we travel. She will be forgotten, if she has not already.” Iadmon sipped from his cup.

  Aesop eyed me. Perhaps he felt a flash of guilt.

  “No, Iadmon. There are very few like this one. She will only grow more beautiful, and your son’s vanity has been cheated. He will not let her be. You owe her this much for the wounds he has already inflicted.”

  Iadmon considered me. It was as if he’d never seen me before. I flinched at the depth with which his eyes touched me. “Take her to Samos,” he ordered. He ran a shaking palm over his brows and turned away from us both.

  Aesop made a noise to protest and Iadmon held up a hand.

  “No, no…not to my wife. Bring her to Xanthes. He is a friend. Tell him to take Doricha away and sell her to someone who will care for her. Someone who can afford to protect her. A man without sons. Promise me, Aesop, as a last request from your master. For the sake of my soul and that of my son’s, promise me, you will do this thing.”

  Aesop glanced at me. “As you wish.”

  *** ***

  We boarded a ship for the island of Samos a week later, when at last my bleeding had stopped. I had no fond farewells for any save for Kailoise. Her face flushed and she put a kitchen rag over her head and wept, as we hurried out of the gates. It seemed I should always be leaving someone I cared for behind. Aesop and I shouldered our meager things and walked the city streets to the docks. White seabirds cried and wheeled overhead, as if to mock me.

  He was in a fine mood, whistling as we loaded provisions for the short trip onto a small vessel with a square white sail. He stopped when I glared at him.

  “I have been a slave since I was born,” he said as if by way of an apology.

  “You were never a slave,” I replied, allowing my anger to taint my words with bitterness. “You lived better than any slave, a friend and teacher to your wealthy master.” I tossed a sack of onions into the hull. “What do you know of slavery?”

  “And what do you know of my life? I was born into slavery, the son of the son of a slave!” Aesop tucked a crate of chickens into the boat cargo, a gift for Xanthes the Samian. “Do not think you know my heart so well!”

  My innards ignited with righteous fire.

  “It should have been me,” I spat. “The Swine never harmed you. My life was risked--my body violated. It should have been me who was given freedom.”

  Aesop rounded on me. “You are a foolish girl. Do you think to be the only woman who has ever cried to the gods for mercy from the prick of an unwanted spear? The goddesses themselves were raped. Lido, Alcmene…Bah! Even my own mother. You are not so much a child as to misunderstand these things. You are simply a woman. And this world was not made for women.”

  “Woman or no, I was born free and sold against my will!” I retorted. “Which of us has the right to freedom? You, who have never known it, or one who had it snatched from her?”

  It was true! What could a lifelong slave know of my suffering? Me, who once tread the hallowed paths of the gods, now forced to this low and base status. I should not be, I vowed. For the sake of my proud father and my beautiful mother, it should not.

  Aesop was silent. He stared out across t
he docks into the sea for a long time.

  “There are some who say to teach a woman is to give more poison to a serpent. Now I can see why,” he said. “You shame me with your words, Doricha. Me. A man. May the gods have mercy on me for giving you the power to do so.”

  We loaded the rest of the vessel in silence and climbed aboard.

  The oar master set upon his drum with a fury which matched my own. I wondered what he’d heard of our exchange, but his face remained as impassive. The wretched creatures, dock slaves, hunched in rows behind of long, wooden paddles, muscles bunching with strain as we sailed far from shore and everything I’d ever known.

  *** ***

  I’d never sailed before.

  My stomach lurched as we pushed off.

  It is no small thing to leave the soil of one’s birth behind. My tears were bitterer than any ocean spray. The gentle swell and splash of the water took the place of solid rock beneath my feet. I have heard sailors fear a woman on ship. If they gave me any dark looks, I did not notice, but stared out over the waters and offered my sorrow to the gods.

  It wasn’t fair, I thought.

  I did not understand what I had done to be so cursed by the gods. Did I not honor them with my face and figure? Did I not attend the religious services in Iadmon’s household dutifully, as I ought?

  But after many hours measured by the oarsmen’s drum, the angry fire in my breast burnt itself out.

  I eyed Aesop, standing at the railing furthest from shore. The decision had rested entirely with Iadmon, I knew this. Aesop had done his best to spare me further pain. He was my protector. It was not his fault that men receive the blessings while women must bear the curses. I’d wronged him, and I do hate to be wrong.

  So, I went to the prow of the vessel to make my peace with him.

  “See there, Doricha? It is the walls of Troy we pass,” he said. “Soon we will skirt the island of Lesbos. Have you traveled there?” His words were amiable, even if his eyes were a touch cautious.

  I shook my head. I’d never been outside of my own village until my flight to the temple.

  “No?” Aesop continued. “Well, the Greeks rested there after they defeated Troy. It’s an important trade port. A city of politics, culture and finery. Why, Sappho herself hails from the island. You would do Sappho proud with your words, you know.”

  “Sappho?”

  “A famed poetess and more. She carries power in the city of Mytilene--no small feat for a woman, as you can well imagine.”

  “A woman?” Such a thing might be harder for a man to consider, than I. Still, I was surprised. “Is she hetaerae?” I asked.

  “No, no. She hosts an academia of sorts for young women of the upper echelons. Lovers, poets, musicians…they compose new marriage hymns and play music without peer, or so I’m told. Perhaps we should stop there for the midday meal. I would not be unwelcome in her home.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, as if to judge my reaction.

  I could not stay angry at him.

  “I am sorry if my words caused you pain, Aesop. You are not the one I blame.” My apology curdled in my mouth.

  How I loathed admitting fault! If only I could learn to curb my tongue, I should never have to apologize again.

  “I know.” He looked satisfied.

  We circumnavigated the isle of Lesbos until we reached the docks of the white, shining city of Mytilene on the northeastern side of the island. The city itself gleamed on the side of the hilltop, like a maze of pearled steps leading upwards to the gods.

  Aesop spoke true. Mytilene was very beautiful.

  I was glad Aesop had suggested we stop. My stomach was not accustomed to sea travel. I came close to spewing my morning meal. I was already tired of the salt crusting my hair and my clothing. The sun’s rays reflected off the waves, and I felt sweat, slick and dripping, beneath my armpits and the backs of my knees.

  The rowers and captain elected to stay aboard. One of them made a reference to a newly born calf, and they snickered at us as we departed. Our unsteady legs amused them after the many hours spent at sea. Aesop led me through the busy streets to a public bathhouse where he spent some of the coin Iadmon had given him.

  We began in the laconicums, the separate sweat baths for males and females, built in the form of a rotunda, with a roof that tapered off into a cone shape with a round opening at the top. A bronze lid operated by chains could seal the opening, controlling the temperature.

  Aesop sent a slave to inquire at the home of Sappho and we cleansed ourselves while we waited for a response. I sighed, and allowed the knots in my shoulders to loosen in the warm, scented humidity. After a suitable sheen built on my skin, we moved to a tepid water bath, followed by a massage of scented oils. Flowers were strung through my hair, which curled prettily around my face. I felt almost myself.

  Soon enough, the slave returned with an invitation inviting Aesop and I to call upon the Poetess of Mytilene.

  A leisurely walk through the winding city streets took us to an uppermost hill overlooking the central city. I reveled in the feeling of the breeze on my clean, scented skin. For once, the salt-fish odor was not unwelcome in my nose. With Aesop safely at my side, I felt a moment’s peace as the noise and bustle of the city fell away behind us. The feeling grew the higher we climbed up the path to the poetess’ house.

  “You are lovely, once again, Little Flower.” Aesop nodded. “A fitting tribute to the Poetess Sappho and her household.”

  “How could a woman rise to such a high estate?” I asked, watching sparrows flit gaily from tree to tree. I burned with curiosity to see this great, this powerful woman who swayed men with the strength of her words.

  “Ah, Sappho is the eldest in an aristocratic family. Her brother Charaxus trades in wine with the East and South. The youngest brother, Larichus, is a public cup-bearer.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Aesop glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “And her husband was a wealthy merchant who drank far too much wine and made himself a fool. She inherited much when he died.” He winked.

  I smothered a smile. That made more sense to me. I could not wait to meet her.

  Sappho’s abode was as lovely as one could imagine. White plastered walls housed a lush courtyard with cypress, blooming shrubs and olive trees. A fountain spouted clear burbling water mingled with the scent of the sea to perfume the air. The path leading to the gates was well tended, with pale golden stones that clinked as we walked. To one side, I could see a fine garden, with ropes of grapevines in bloom drooping over the outer wall. From somewhere within, the faint sounds of a lyre could be heard.

  We announced ourselves, and waited. Finally, a slave ushered us in the domicile.

  Well and why not? A decent Grecian woman would not show herself in public. Still, I was disappointed. I’d imagined from Aesop’s brief tales that Sappho might be different. Surely, as a widow, she’d be afforded more freedom to greet her own requested guests.

  We left the heat of the day behind, winding our way through shadowed halls to the center courtyard. Sunlight filtered through the open colonnade and lent the whole abode an otherworldly air. The scent of oleander and myrrh filtered though the portico.

  Once inside, Sappho herself greeted us without benefit of her chaperone. This was unusual and I smiled to myself, certain my curiosity would be satisfied.

  It was.

  She was short and dark and lovely, even if her figure was a little softened with age. A thin band of polished gold held Sappho’s hair so the curls framed her forehead in a becoming fashion. Brown eyes, deep and intelligent, appraised me openly, in a way that reminded me of Aidne. I shivered and rubbed my hands over my arms.

  “Aesop.” Sappho’s voice was low and fluid as water. She clasped his hand in greeting. “It has been many months since I saw you last.”

  “You are as beautiful as I remember in my dreams.” Aesop smiled.

  I gaped at him. Was the fool actually flattering her? She was prett
y, I supposed, in a bird-like way. She reminded me of a swallow. But beautiful? Obviously, the sea wind and the rowers’ drums had addled his brains.

  I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin a notch. Sappho’s dark eyes flickered over to me once more but she addressed only Aesop.

  “Flatterer!”She sounded pleased. “And how fares Iadmon, your master?”

  “He is my master no longer. I am free.”

  Sappho did not appear surprised. “I wondered when he would….never mind. So, you have come at once to attend me, then?” She smiled. “I am glad for it. Come, let us have some refreshment.”

  She led us, that is to say, she led Aesop to low cushioned bench. I simply trailed after them, feeling invisible.

  “Is this your girl, Aesop?” Sappho asked at long last, when Aesop took his time to settle his bulk onto the chaise. She signaled for wine and fruit.

  “No, she belongs to Iadmon. We’re traveling to the stocks on Samos.”

  Sappho considered me for a long moment, where to my chagrin I found myself positioning my figure to its advantage. I don’t know why I cared what she thought. Perhaps it was because she had thought, unlike most Grecian women. Or perhaps it was because I could see Aesop gave credence to her opinion.

  Either way, a little thrill ran down my spine when she drew near and touched my shoulder with her small, soft hand. Her perfume tickled my nostrils.

  “She is…pretty,” Sappho said.

  “She is more than that, as well you know, Sappho.” Aesop’s eyes were affectionate.

  “I suppose, if she did not have the look of half-starved dog about her. See how her clothing hangs. Is she ill?”

  I’d not thought to prepare a new chiton after my old one had been let out to accommodate the babe in my womb. I’d not wanted to make myself appealing to anyone. Disgrace burned in my cheeks.

  “She is well, Sappho. It is nothing a little rest will not cure.” Aesop bit into a fig. So, he would not parade my shame in front of others. I blessed him silently.

  “Hmm,” she mused. A burst of giggles wafted from the hall.