by Marié Heese
Antonina nodded. Together, they began to whirl and twirl, to the accompaniment of rhythmic claps and stamps. Then Theodora shouted: “Now!” They each stretched out a foot and kicked a lamp to the floor. Both lamps shattered on the tiles and sent up a sheet of flame between the dancers and the rest of the room. A furious roar sounded. The honking goose had fiery hair. The girls turned and ran, down the stairs and through the crowded taverna where cheers and jeers greeted them, out of the front door and around the corner.
“The carriage!” panted Antonina. There it was! The reins were looped around a pole, and the horses stood placidly with their heads down. Theodora undid the reins and onto the box they leapt. Antonina grabbed the driver’s whip and laid into the startled horses. They whinnied, reared and rallied, as she gripped the reins firmly and sent them off along the road back towards Comito’s apartment. Theodora clung to the box, laughing, exhilarated; Antonina whooped with delight as she cracked the whip over the galloping horses. A few late revellers stared disbelievingly as the carriage driven by two naked women swept by. Through the almost deserted streets the carriage thundered at a speed more suited to a chariot race than a journey along the streets of the capital.
Theodora shrieked as they wheeled around a fountain and sped along a broad main thoroughfare. “Watch out!” she yelled.
Antonina cracked the whip again. “Just hold on,” she shouted. “Father was a charioteer, and Grandfather before him. I can drive a better team than this!”
Chapter 10: The mistress
They reached Comito’s apartment safely, and managed to wake her household by throwing pebbles at the shutters. Luckily the Senator did not wake up. Once they were inside, Comito quickly found them clothing and ordered a slave, stumbling with sleepiness, to make warm drinks of milk with honey and spices. In a few moments they had been transformed from naked victims to pampered ladies.
Wrapped in a richly coloured gown, her chestnut hair loose over her shoulders, Comito listened avidly to their story. “Oh, my word, I’d have died on the spot! Good for you! What a sight it must have been! And thank heavens I have my carriage back – Marcus would have been furious if it went missing.”
“I think they killed the driver,” said Antonina. “He was bleeding very badly.”
“We’ll find out tomorrow. Maybe the night guard picked him up. But if the footman shows his face, I’ll sack the cowardly bastard. This city is getting more dangerous every day. You really do need a protector, sister,” said Comito.
“Yes, I do,” sighed Theodora. “It seems I’ve hooked one.”
“Pollo?” asked Comito. “Could do worse.”
“Yes. He’s going to come to me with terms and conditions, he said. A business deal.”
Antonina snorted. “It may make him feel better about it to call it that, but it’s still adultery and it’s still exploitation. You’ll have to agree to his terms, whatever they may be, and you’ll have no recourse if he doesn’t keep his side of any bargain.”
“I know,” said Theodora. “But I have no choice.”
“He seems decent enough,” said Comito. “Good provider, family’s looked after, so they say. We’ll give you some tips … But later. You look exhausted.”
“I don’t think I’ll sleep,” said Theodora. “I feel more awake than I was this morning. I can’t stop seeing those leering faces. It was … it was …” She shook her head. Suddenly she began to shake.
“What you need is a good massage,” said Antonina briskly. “Comito, you look tired yourself. Go to bed. We’ll be fine.”
“The slavey will show you to your bedroom,” said Comito, yawning. “Good night, then.”
“Good night. Theodora, lie down on your stomach. Slavey, some goose grease.”
“No!” A vision of Fat Rosa’s hands. “Can’t stand that stuff,” said Theodora.
“Maybe some scented oil?” suggested the sleepy slave.
“Yes. Please bring it.”
“Yes, Lady.”
Theodora removed her borrowed clothes and turned over as Antonina oiled her large, capable-looking hands. The scent of jasmine wafted through the room.
“There!” said Antonina. “Yes, like that. Now, just relax.” And she began a smooth, stroking motion from the back of Theodora’s neck, over her shoulders and down her back.
“Ahhh! Feels good.”
As the skin warmed up, Antonina began to exert more pressure. “You’re stiff as a plank, and full of knots. Here, for example.”
“Oooo. Ow. Where did you learn … to do this?”
“Masseuse at the Hippodrome taught me. I’ll teach you, too. Men love it. One of the reasons why my late husband thought I was the best of wives.”
“Ah. Ow. Oh, yes, that feels good. What were the other reasons, besides the obvious, being good in bed?”
“Without excuses,” added Antonina. “No headaches. Positive enthusiasm at all times. Variety.”
“Right. And?”
“I never nagged,” said Antonina. Her powerful hands dug deep into the long muscles along Theodora’s spine. “I listened to him when he wanted to talk. Really listened. Remembered what he told me. Kept myself informed about the topics that interested him, so that I could make sensible comments.”
“Ooo. Ow. That’s sore.”
“Great big lump.” Hard thumbs worked at it. Round and round. Deeper.
“And?”
“And kept an orderly home, with a good table,” said Antonina. “Listen to me: never underestimate the value of domestic peace and comfort. Keep the slaves in line. Always check the shopping. They’ll cheat you, of course, and you let them get away with the odd item here and there. They’ll have an arrangement with suppliers to skim off the top. But you don’t let them rob you blind.”
“I hear you. Oooo!”
“Home should be a haven of tranquillity. There should be no-where else that the man would rather be.”
A haven of tranquillity, thought Theodora. Blissful. And oh, how good it was to have strong hands kneading out the kinks and pains. Strong hands. Kind hands. Kind hands.
Suddenly, tears welled up, from somewhere deep inside. Theodora pulled the gown she had discarded nearer to wipe her eyes surreptitiously.
“You crying? Go on, girl. Go ahead. Do you good.”
The kind voice undid her. She wept.
“It’s all right,” said Antonina soothingly. “You’re safe now. It’s all right.”
This just made Theodora sob harder. Hidden depths of sorrow sent waves of misery through her body. She wept for the father she had lost, for the hard struggle to survive, for the awful stage performances that she must pretend to enjoy; for the harsh lover who had taken her and dropped her, and for the worst of it: for the minute little man child, hardly half the size of her fist, that she had painfully, cruelly, expelled from her body to die on the floor in a clot of scarlet jelly. A little man person with stubby fingers and webbed toes, with tiny features, with blind eyes.
“I didn’t know, I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to do it,” she sobbed into the damp cushion.
“It’s all right,” repeated Antonina, not understanding.
“No, it’s not all right! I aborted my baby! I didn’t want to, but I had to.”
“Oh, dear,” said Antonina. She stopped massaging and sat down next to Theodora, who turned over to look up at her with swollen eyes.
“It was terrible,” she said. “And it hurt.”
“I’m so sorry. It must have been hard. I’ve never done that myself, but I can imagine … ”
“Well, you were married,” said Theodora, “weren’t you?”
“Not at first,” said Antonina. “Not with Photius, not with Alexia.”
“Weren’t they your husband’s children?”
“No. Photius was fathered by the Master of the Horse at the palace. He raped me when I was fourteen.”
“Raped you!”
“Repeatedly,” said Antonina. “Went on for months. Oh, God, why am
I telling you this?” She put a hand over her mouth as if to shut herself up.
“Couldn’t you have reported him?”
“No.” She took her masking hand away slowly and sighed. “Nobody would’ve believed me. And my father would’ve lost his job in the Imperial stables.”
“I thought you said he was a charioteer?”
“Yes, he was, at first. Won big prizes. We even had a slave pedagogue, taught me to read and write.”
“So? Then why …”
“He had a terrible crash. Broke both legs. Then he had to be a stable hand.”
“And you didn’t tell your father? What the Master of the Horse was …”
“He knew,” said Antonina.
For a moment they sat in silence.
“So I had Photius. My aunt brought him up – my mother died when I was eight. I have often wished I had aborted him.”
“That’s … that’s … horrible,” said Theodora.
“He takes after his father. He’s a soldier and he enjoys violence. I’ve never been able to love him. He knows that, and he hates me.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“And your daughter? Was she also … ?”
“I had a protector later – she was his child,” said Antonina. “But he threw me out when she was two. I had to go back to the stage. My aunt took Alexia as well.”
“So you looked out for a husband.”
“I was lucky,” said Antonina. “I found a good man.”
“No children by him?”
“Yes, two. Two girls. But they died of the measles, within a week of each other. They were four and five years old.” The tears she could no longer hold back slipped down her cheeks. But she continued to hold her head up high, her mouth still maintaining the rictus of a polite social smile. “So you see, I wasn’t a great success as a mother.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Theodora.
“But I was the best of wives. He wrote it in his will.”
The sleepy slave stumbled in again with a candle. “Your beds are ready, Ladies.”
There was nothing more to say.
A week later, Darius Pollo came to dinner at Comito’s and sealed the agreement with Theodora.
“I don’t have the same high rank as the Senator,” he remarked, “but I am comfortably off. You won’t find me ungenerous. I have – I think you know – a villa here in town. My wife never comes to it. You may simply move in. When I am in Constantinople, I expect to live there and I expect you to run the household for me. There’s a eunuch major-domo and several slaves. I’ll make you an allowance.”
“Thank you.”
“I understand you have one sister left at home, and a mother, but no man in the house?”
“Yes.”
“If I’m satisfied with you, I’ll make them a small allowance too. I understand how these things work. So you will not skimp on my table to support them, is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” said Theodora. She wished she could tell him to go to hell. But she had to appear grateful.
“Sometimes I’ll want to entertain, mainly other merchants and their wives. I hope you’ll be as good a hostess as your sister is.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Theodora.
“Of course, you must be ready for sex whenever I say so. We’re agreed on that?”
Theodora nodded, her hands tightly clasped.
She realised that, like everyone else in Constantinople, he thought she had been a whore for years. If he knew how inexperienced she was, she thought, he would be out of the door. But she planned to do the things that Comito and Antonina had described to her, and she would do her best to play the role of an experienced courtesan.
“I hope not to disappoint,” she murmured.
He looked her up and down, appraisingly. “I don’t expect so,” he said. “You are quite, quite lovely. How long is your hair, when it’s loose?”
“Down to hip level,” said Theodora. “My mother never cut it.”
“Wisely so, wisely so.” He coughed. “Now, there’s still the question of a possible pregnancy. I take it you have some knowledge of … of … well, measures …”
“Yes, of course,” said Theodora.
“Yet there might still be a slip. You know that I have five sons?”
“Yes, I do.”
“There is no possibility that I will acknowledge a child by you. I will not support it. I would expect you to get rid of it. There are ways – I suppose you have some knowledge of that also?”
Theodora closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“Then, I’ll expect you to do what is necessary, if need be. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” whispered Theodora.
“Very well, then. If, after one year, I’m pleased with you, I’ll add a codicil to my testament to provide a small legacy. Modest, not enough to murder me for …”
She peeped at him. Was that a joke?
He did seem to have a wry smile. “But enough to tide you over should I suddenly pass away and leave you stranded.”
“That sounds fair.”
“I’ll be away quite often. You may continue with your stage performances, if you like. As long as they don’t interfere with my requirements. Will that be possible?”
“Yes.”
“But I shall have exclusive rights to your … um … services. Your life is so public that I’ll soon hear of any cheating. That will end our agreement. Immediately.”
“I understand.”
“So. In that case, I think we shall deal very well together.” He put a large hand over hers, and squeezed.
She thought: Perhaps he will be kind. Oh, God, let him be kind.
“Yes,” said Theodora.
Within a month Theodora moved into her new home. It was a smallish villa, in a good part of town, and it was well furnished. Darius Pollo had an appreciation of good quality. He taught her to distinguish between showy gimcracks and items of solid value. She delighted in the solid, carved furniture, fine floor mosaics, colourful frescoes, and the elegantly draped velae that separated the rooms; she kept fresh flowers in the vases and saw to it that the small peristyle was impeccably weeded and pruned. He gave her some bolts of silk to have tunics made, plus a few good pieces of jewellery. Advised by Comito and Antonina, she soon learned to be an accomplished hostess; invitations to dinner at the villa became sought after.
He never knew, she firmly believed, just how inexperienced she had been when she came to his bed. She had so often mimed sexual ecstasy on stage that she did not find it difficult to pretend to a level of enjoyment that she did not truly feel. The experience with Gaius Lepidus had left its scar, and despite taking the recommended measures, she was always afraid of another pregnancy, so that she held her latent passion firmly in check. Darius Pollo did not see the necessity to study the sexual needs of a professional courtesan. So their encounters in the bedroom were usually quickly over. He seemed quite satisfied.
Ensconced in the villa, she felt like some small wild animal in a dangerous wood, the vulnerable prey of many predators, that had discovered a corner of a great forest where it might safely graze. It was a time of peace and sufficiency, and she was able to help her mother and Stasie to live a little better than before. She gained self-confidence and poise. Those men who gathered at the stage door after her now less frequent performances accepted the right of Darius Pollo to his mistress’s loyalty, and she was never tempted into infidelity.
Then, in the year she turned eighteen, she met Hecebolus.
He was among the guests at one of her exclusive little dinners, invited by Darius Pollo, for he was a major shipowner from Tyre and an important player in the import-export business. She usually invited six men, plus Antonina and Comito to help her entertain them, so that all could be comfortably accommodated in the triclinium, which held three broad couches for reclining diners around one table.
She was doing a final check on the arrangements, lighting sticks of incense and mak
ing sure that the lamps were full, when Darius arrived accompanied by a stranger. Half a head taller than Darius, he was a striking figure, with olive skin and dark eyes. His black hair lay in close curls against a well-shaped head. He exuded an indefinable sense of power.
“Theodora, this is Hecebolus,” said Darius Pollo. “You should be kind to him.”
“You are welcome,” said Theodora.
His teeth flashed white as he smiled at her. “Thank you. I’m honoured to have been invited.” His voice was deep. His solid body asserted itself in the room.
She was accustomed to the intent regard of men, assumed it as her right, and usually ignored it. This night she wanted to draw this stranger’s eyes to her. Look at me, see me, cried her heart, not as another man’s polished hostess, not as his possession, paid for and exhibited. Look at me. See me.
But of course, what she actually said was superficial and polite. He was a good guest who kept the rest entertained with tales about his journeys. He was well travelled, since he had often sailed with the merchant ships of which he and his brother, who lived in Tyre, commanded a considerable fleet.
“How marvellous to see so much of the world,” said Theodora.
“Would you like to travel?” he asked.
“Oh, yes! To see other lands and other peoples!” she said. “And what has been the most interesting place?”
“North Africa,” he said at once. “The Pentapolis, in Libya. I’ve spent some time there, and I love it.”
“The Pentapolis?”
“A Roman province, with five cities,” he told her. “Teuchira, Berenice, Ptolemais, Boreium and Cyrene, whose port is Apollonia.”
“And why do you love it?”
“Well … because it’s a place for young men,” he said. “It has an edge of danger, always. It is a frontier, held against the barbarians. The Pentapolis has been carved out of what used to be Cyrenaica, homeland of Simon.”
“Oh, I know,” said Theodora. “Simon of Cyrene, the man who helped Jesus to carry the cross.”
