I slipped on the treasures and twirled before him in one of my most pleasing dance positions. Charaxus’ eyes softened. Hori stood discreetly to the side and let me mince about for Charaxus, but his eyes burned and never left me.
The jingly bells filled the small workshop with music as I pranced. The sunlight streaming through the high windows glimmered on my feet and turned them to solid honey. I felt molten and alive! Oh, how I desired the slippers!
They were more than incomparable in their beauty. They were a product of Hori’s craftsmanship. How many hours had I spent daydreaming of the sandal-maker? Me, the daughter of the gods! Perhaps in this way, I could believe he’d thought of me--that he’d dreamed of me as he tooled and fashioned the wood, leather, and metal into treasure.
“They are lovely. Even more so on limbs like hers.” Charaxus agreed, and clapped me on the bottom as I passed. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and Hori smothered another smile. “But they are also very dear, to be sure. I ordered sandals, not golden dancing slippers.” He crossed his arms.
My heart sank.
Humiliation and rejection all in one. I was mortified, but I couldn’t make myself remove the treasures from my feet. I sketched a few steps more, certain I’d never dance in them again.
“Gold is common as sand in Egypt, since the conquer of Nubia.” Hori exaggerated. “I have not used so much to coat her slippers. It is only a thin sheet, see? Perhaps an arrangement could be made, for these will fit none but your woman.” He emphasized the possessive ever so slightly.
Clever, clever Hori.
Charaxus’ eyes lingered on me, still twirling like a whirlwind in the sunbeams. I stopped and gave him my most appealing smile. “And what of sandals?” he asked. “She cannot wear such slippers to the market.”
“She should have music wherever she walks,” Hori said. His eyes were hot. “These will last you well beyond any sandal. Think of the number of sandals you would have to buy to compare with sturdy wood and metal.”
Charaxus did think. For some long moments he was silent. My gaze darted from him to Hori, who I dared not look at for long, and back to Charaxus. I wondered if my master calculated sums in his head. I wondered if he knew I wanted the slippers as much because Hori had created them, as I did because they were beautiful.
“What say you?” he asked me.
What else could I answer? “Oh, please,” I said. “I-I desire them. Very much.” I could not help but eye Hori as I said that last bit. “I hardly go out anyway. Let the servants go to the market. I shall dance!” And I twirled again.
Hori rubbed his lips together and looked at me with an expression I could not read.
Charaxus laughed at my childish desire. “She is a treasure to behold, is she not? Well, fetch us some beer, Petal. I would settle on a price.”
“You are so good to me.” I kissed his cheeks and minced towards the door to get his drink from the nearby stall. I did not even care he would break wind all night. I left with wings of happiness on my heels and felt Hori’s eyes on me the whole way out.
Chapter Seventeen
The rest of the week I spent dancing and satisfying the lusts of Charaxus. The man truly was an extravagant fool. I should have recognized the trait when he’d purchased me in Samos, but I’d never realized the extent of his profligacy until he agreed to Hori’s fabulous rose-gold slippers. Charaxus was a weak man, and I am ashamed to say, I encouraged his weakness then for it led me to my own desires.
What can I say, but that I am Thracian and thus governed by my passions?
The city was abuzz with the news the Greek had ransomed a queen’s treasure for his woman. We were invited to various homes of the lower echelon Egyptian nobility, a physician and his wife, and to attend the house of Isesi, a minor scribe, who had invited half of the young bureaucratic families to dine as well. Isesi’s wife Wakheptry was kind, however, and knew some of the niceties of Greek culture. So, I passed a pleasant evening. I think they were satisfied to see me dance. It gave them fodder for gossip. The Greek and his beautiful flower--the girl with the rose-gold slippers.
As we departed, Charaxus made promises to Isesi to dine again next week. Still, I feared one day Pharaoh himself would ask us to attend him and then all Charaxus’ reassurances I would not be sold would be set aside for the god king of Egypt. I was relieved to hear the Pharaoh was not even in Sais--he’d gone to Memphis some months ago.
I wondered if Charaxus knew of Pharaoh’s absence. Surely he must, for it seemed he knew of everything that went on in the city. Well, almost everything.
He did not, for instance, know that I saw Hori again.
I was in the courtyard tending the jasmine and sweet winding roses when I heard a distant clatter. Puzzled, I went to the far wall to investigate. It was a chunk of plaster the size of my palm. I scanned the high wall looking for any flaw in the smooth white surface. There was none. Who would throw a clod of broken limestone into my garden?.Some prankster, no doubt.
“Who goes there?” I called over the wall. “Be gone or I shall call for the guards to thrash you.”
“Flower?” said a faint voice from the other side of the wall.
My heart leapt into my mouth. It was the warm, liquid purr of my dreams, the voice of the sandal craftsman.
“Hori,” I called, as softly as I might without anyone inside the house to hear. “What are you doing here?” I’d not seen him since the day Charaxus had purchased my treasured slippers.
“Please, Lovely Flower, do not send me away. I pine for the sight of you. Is your man at home?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, as loudly as I dared. My heart leapt. He pined for me? “He is in the house tallying his stock.”
“Tell him you wish to go to the market.”
“I can’t!” But, could I? After so many years of being prey for other men, I wanted Hori with a passion I’d never experienced before.
“Please,” he begged. “I must see you.”
I thought for a moment. “I could tell him I need to go to the market, but he will send a servant with me. I suppose I could bring Rada,” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t sure I trusted her.
“No,” Hori called. His voice sounded strained. “Not Rada. Bring the old one, the one they call Menekhet. He’s almost blind and lame besides. You can lose him in the throng. Meet me at my workshop.” Then his voice was gone, before I had time to reconsider the wisdom of our plan.
“Charaxus,” I called once I was inside. My heart pounded with the weight of my deceit. I’d never lied to him before…well, not truly lied outside of the niceties I used to stroke his manly pride. “I must go to the market. I wish to buy…I wish to purchase you more beer. Our casks are almost gone.” That should do it.
He did not even look up from tallying his figures. “Take someone with you,” he said. “The streets will not be safe for you alone.”
Rada set down the linen she was mending and made to rise.
“Not you, Rada,” I said, as calmly as I might with my heart leaping into my throat. “The casks will be too heavy for you, and besides,” I moved towards the door, “I need you to finish the washing. I will take Menekhet.”
And I disappeared before she could raise any objections, with my slippers jingling like an alarm.
*** ***
Hori was right. I’d scarcely left the house when I left poor old Menekhet puffing behind me.
“Wait,” I heard him call plaintively.
But I could not wait.
My heart and feet had wings. Hori of the divine face wanted me, he wanted to see me. He was but a seller of shoes, true, but he more than made up for his lack of station with his charm and handsome form. My skin tingled in anticipation and I felt almost free as I rounded the alley and turned towards his door.
“Hori,” I called softly as I entered. What if he was not here?
He pounced on me the moment I entered. His full lips covered mine, and wicked creature that I am, I welcomed him without protest. I was on
fire as his tongue surged into my mouth. How good it felt to be desired by such a handsome man as he.
“Oh….” He moaned into my mouth. “Oh, Sweet One, how I have longed for you.”
I wrapped my arms around him. How strong he was!
His skin was warm cedar and musk. He lifted me up and set me atop his workbench, the very workbench he’d crafted my treasured slippers on. Leather scraps, wood and a half-finished electrum trinket slid to the floor.
“Hori.” I sighed. I’d thought of little else but him for weeks now. I’d dreamed of this moment, never thinking it could actually be, but hoping for it just the same.
My pulse raced through my veins like unwatered wine. I should not let him please me like this, but oh! He tasted like honey and spice. His strong palms rubbed my breasts through the thin fabric of my shift until my nipples beaded. Then he moved his hot mouth from my swollen lips and suckled me right there--through the linen and all.
“Ah,” I whimpered with pleasure. This was the lover of my dreams. What Mara and I had whispered about, so long ago in the temple. Surely I deserved this after everything I’d suffered. Some small measure of happiness not begot by my master’s purse. My hands slid up his broad shoulders, and I reveled in the feel of his silken copper skin. A woman’s cry broke into our interlude, a moment before I recognized the soft tread upon the doorstep.
“Hori!” It was Rada. What on earth was she doing here? Her face was as red as if she’d just been slapped.
“Rada,” croaked Hori. I hopped off the bench and pulled my skirts into place. How had they become bunched up over my hips?
She glared at us both. “Your master is waiting for you at home, Flower. Go to him.” She could not order me around like a servant! I was Charaxus’ woman and not hers.
“I will go when I please,” I said hotly. “You are the servant here.”
“You will not hold such esteem when the Greek knows of your business here,” she threatened. She turned on her heel to leave.
“Wait, Rada,” Hori called. “It is me you are angry with. Please, do not go.”
“You?” I turned to my would-be lover. “Why should she care?”
“He is my man, promised to me this past season.” Rada smirked. “He will not have you, Little Flower. He plays with your petals, but he will take a true Egyptian woman to wife.”
Wife. I had not thought that far ahead. Never in my fantasies was I a wife to some base sandal maker. In fact, I was no wife at all, for a true wife has but little worth other than to tend a household and bear heirs. In Greece, it was forbidden for a slave to marry. I’d thought only of gaining a little pleasure for myself, but marriage? I had not thought of it.
Still, here was an interesting prospect. If Hori wanted me, he would have to purchase my freedom. Perhaps, I could entice him to bargain for my freedom.
I could not breathe easily.
“Enough,” Hori said. “Go, Flower. I will talk to Rada.”
I didn’t want to leave Hori to face a jealous Rada, but I could not risk Charaxus finding me here. I fled the workshop with a silent vow to return to Hori when I could.
*** ***
All was well at the house. Menekhet had returned with a cask of beer, and Charaxus, still fiddling with his figures, said nothing. I supposed he thought the fresh cask was my doing. I gave Menekhet a string of glass beads and a kiss in exchange for his silence, something he would have given me at any rate.
Rada returned after some long hours with an exultant smirk and a spring to her step. She said nothing to me and, as far as I knew, nothing to Charaxus. I wondered at her strange expression, but what could I say aloud that wouldn’t bring suspicion onto myself? And after all, Hori had sought out my company, not hers. Perhaps she’d lied. Why should she return with a smile? Oh, I could not bear to think of the two of them together.
“Petal,” Charaxus called out the next morning as I passed. My heart leapt into my throat. “Come here. I’ve had word from your friend.”
“My…my friend?” My voice squeaked. Rada had told.
Charaxus frowned at my hesitation. “Yes, your friend Aesop, the Fabulist. It seems he will be in Sais in a few weeks. He travels by way of Naukratis. Shall we invite him to visit?”
My limbs grew weak with relief. Aesop. How long had it been since I’d seen my old friend and mentor? I wondered what he would think of his Little Crab, finding happiness at last.
“Certainly.” I kissed him on his stubbly cheek, and tried not to think of my smooth Egyptian lover as my master’s hand slid up my buttocks. “I should love to see him.” I disengaged his hand. “I shall make preparations.”
Charaxus turned back to his tally books, and I exited, bumping into Rada on my way out.
“Rada,” I said, taking her arm and leading her away from Charaxus. “We need to prepare for a guest. He will be here in a few weeks.”
Rada gave me a filthy look.
“Another man to satisfy your lusts?” She tossed her silky hair.
I sighed. I should try to make peace with her, for my own sake, if not hers.
“I’d no idea Hori was your man, Rada. And no action from him would have given me cause to believe it. He invited me to his shop yesterday, not the other way around.”
Rada’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it or not. Hori invited me there and kissed me of his own will.”
Suddenly Rada looked much less certain of herself. “But, but…he said….” Her voice trailed away. She stopped and gave me a hard glare. “Stay away from Hori,” she warned.
“Or what?” I could not help retorting as she sauntered down the hall.
She did not answer.
*** ***
That night I begged off Charaxus attentions, citing my woman’s time which was still a week away. I marveled that despite my regular cycles and his attentions to me, I’d not conceived a child. It was a blessing from the gods, I was sure, but strange nonetheless. I wondered if he ever questioned my fertility, as I had his.
I lay in my own bed and tried to recapture the heat from Hori’s touch by stroking my fingers in a lazy circle around my nipples. I should not think of him, I knew this. But, I was naive then, and knew only that I desperately wanted for something more—something of my own design.
So, I tried to conjure up my passion with Hori. When that failed, I stuck my hand between my legs and rubbed myself as I had not done since my time with Mara. It did not relieve the ache clenching my womanhood. Without a lover, I could not gain release. I needed a smooth, hard body pressed against me, so I left off and tried to sleep.
It was far too hot this evening. My skin prickled all over as if I slept on a bed of needles. I tossed and turned until my pleated gown became a twisted rope between my legs. I felt guilty for lying to Charaxus; really, my master treated me better than any man had. I owed him my honor and loyalty. What did it matter that I was his property?
But, it did matter.
Ah, Lady, I prayed. You promised that I should live free. Can you not share some measure of your grace? My eyes ached for respite. At last, I fell asleep with my hand still tucked between my thighs. I dreamt as I had not done since leaving Abdera.
The fair haired lady stood before my cosmetics chest. She admired herself in a gilded mirror. When she caught me peeping at her from under my bed linen, she raised an immaculate brow.
“You have forgotten me,” she said with a sigh. Her voice rang in my head like a thousand brass bells. Or perhaps it was the rush of a thousand sparrows’ wings.
I tried to protest but found I could not speak. The Lady raised her hand to my pots and I watched in fascination as she lined her azure eyes with Egyptian kohl. Her finger dipped into the pot and came away red with carmine. She rouged her cheeks and lips, quite unnecessarily for they were as lush and red as berries.
“I could never forget,” I began. My mouth went dry at her beauty. “You are truly the most beautiful, the most desirable of women.” I ached a
nd trembled anew.
“So, I am.” She smiled. “And so you will be. You have gained my notice. My attentions are not an easy load to bear. Yet all I have placed upon your shoulders, you carry. All and more.”
“Wh-o…?” I licked my dry lips. “Who are you?” For, I was afraid she might be offended I did not know her.
“I am called by many names, in many tongues. I am ‘She of the Sea’. I am the Cyprian, the Goddess, the ‘Man Killer’, the ‘Lover’. I am ‘She who Gives’. I am ‘Yours’.”
Cunning, crafty, beautiful woman. She would twist even Aesop’s reasoning with her pretty pink tongue.
“A name!” I cried, my arms aching to hold her. “Give me a name, so I may sing your praises.”
“A name?” said she. “I have many. I am Freyja, Urania…I am Astarte, Aphrodite, and Isis. I am Ama-no-uzme, I am Ishtar. I am Anat. Which of these names would you choose?”
I swallowed hard. Was this a test?
“I will have none of these,” I said. My voice was thick with longing. “I will call you ‘Love’ and follow you all of my days.”
The Lady drew nearer to my bed. My legs turned to liquid fire and I sighed as she kissed my brow. I swear my forehead burned from her touch.
“You have named me well. I shall make you a gift.” And she drew from her gown two things.
One was a girdle of silver and gold. I gasped at its finery. It was rich and encrusted with gems, many of which I had no names for. The jewels gleamed in the moon’s light, like fiery stars fallen from the night sky. Gold and silver ropes twined together in sinuous harmony between the jewels. The girdle seemed a tad narrow for my figure. Indeed, I thought it might just barely fit over my hips. She held it up for me to try.
I was right. It settled over my linen shift as if it were a second skin. I wore a true queen’s ransom around my hips. No, not a queen’s ransom--a treasure fit for a goddess. I wept as the bands embraced me. I’d never seen anything so fine as the goddess’ girdle. She held up her gilded mirror for me to see.
HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods Page 20
