by Roger Hudson
Lysanias found himself shivering, though the room was warm. He could feel an erection rising under his tunic. Aspasia's eyes snapped open. "Now let's see what we have under this grimy worker's tunic shall we?" She had unclasped his tunic at the shoulder and it fell to the floor around his feet.
"Now that's what I call a healthy young chisel," she grinned seductively. Before he could protest or say anything, she was on her knees, had it in her hands and was stroking and licking and smelling it. "Mmmm ... Only virgins smell like that." He was getting really excited and it was driving everything else from his head, why he had come, his coming marriage to Philia, everything. He knew his father had wanted to buy him his sexual initiation back in Eion but his mother had objected, till he was eighteen. Well, he was eighteen now.
"I can pay," he said, then realised how incongruous it sounded.
"No, the pleasure's all mine." Aspasia almost hummed as she stood, unclasped her gown and revealed her well-rounded, sensuous, rose-pink body in all its glory, rivalling and surpassing the painting of Aphrodite. He could see why wealthy men vied for her favours.
"Now before we waste that gorgeous first time ...” And she led him backwards to the bed, their eyes locked, a silly grin on his face. She lay down and encouraged him into position. Then his education really started.
It was like nothing he'd ever imagined. Why had he put it off so long? While it left him tingling all over, wanting to do no more than lie beside her forever, stroking that silky-smooth skin, he found it had also cleared his mind miraculously. He still didn't have any answers, but the problems, the unanswered questions, stood out sharply.
"What's this crooked business you think is going on?" he asked as gently as he could, for fear of breaking the magic.
"Ah, down to business, eh? I can see you're your uncle's nephew."
"I thought you didn't know him."
"Did I say that? Surely not. Aspasia knows everybody who is anybody. Now let’s see what I can tell you." She ran her finger down the line of his nose and along his lips, a subtle smile on her face. Was she teasing him? Then the playful girl became the knowledgeable woman.
"Did he come here?" Lysanias asked.
"Once or twice, but he liked to experiment, take risks. Maybe that's what got him into trouble. Always liked a gamble, using his money to beat other people to things, whether it was the newest whore in town, or the biggest business contract. Winning, beating someone else was the thing. From what I hear, he didn't always play clean. It didn't make him liked. Has no-one told you this?"
She must have read the small expressions of growing horror on his face.
"No, everyone says what a marvellous man he was."
She put on her experienced woman expression. "Mmm, they would. Hypocrites all, these wealthy Athenians, and the rest of us are forced to copy them. Sorry, I know, you're an Athenian too but you grew up somewhere else, you haven't learnt all their bad habits. Yet. Take me, for instance. They call me a 'companion'. Anywhere else, I'd be a high-class whore. Not that I'm complaining. It gives me a status and a freedom of movement I adore. But you see my point. So 'death' is 'crossing over'. 'Taxes' are 'contributions' or 'tributes'..."
Lysanias tried to concentrate but he couldn't see where this was leading and his hand was on her breast and her hand was stroking his leg and his penis had started to stir again. They kissed and only after another lesson in sex, another position explored, did Aspasia continue.
She poured scorn on the Athenian idea of democracy as the plaything of the wealthy, not involving many of the citizens, though she did acknowledge that things seemed to be changing with the new reforms – no suggestion yet of giving the women a say, though. The Confederacy that had beaten the Persians she saw as an Athenian Empire in disguise.
Even his own home colony she saw as a military outpost guaranteeing Athens access to timber for shipbuilding and to dominance over the nearby goldmines.
"It's all about power, boy! Economic power when it's not military."
Lysanias started to feel very disillusioned.
"You're beginning to sound like a radical politician, now," he said.
"Like Perikles? He’s just another rich boy building a power base for himself and his hero." She felt that, just as Kimon had welded the wealthier classes together to support him, the radicals were lining up the shopkeepers and master craftsmen behind them as well as the workers, the poor and the intellectuals. She sounded as though she was in favour of the reforms but didn't really believe it would happen.
"The wealthy aren't fools. They'll resist with all their might," she crowed.
Lysanias lay there, astounded as much by the fact that a woman had the intellect to grasp all this as by what she was saying. Women just weren’t capable of it. Everyone knew that.
"But how?" he began.
"Did I learn to think? In my home city, women aren’t shut away as in Athens but allowed a modicum of education."
She had found that, with her status, she could invite the best minds in Athens to her parties and they came, and, as long as she stayed out of sight, she could listen in on the historians and philosophers in the public gardens and even observe Assembly meetings. So her education continued.
Lysanias began to feel uncomfortable with her attitudes. Aspasia clearly knew her power over men and intended to exploit it to the full. Her feeling that all politicians were corrupt was especially disturbing. Then that golden smile flashed and he was lost in admiration of her beauty.
"I’m sorry if I'm being brutal, Lysanias. Eighteen is the time for innocence, but, if you learn in your own time, the vultures will have torn you apart before you know what world you're in."
She couldn't be that much older than him, early twenties at most, and here she was mothering him. Affronted, he made to get up. Aspasia pulled him back.
"I haven't told you anything that will help you with your uncle's death yet, but don't expect too much."
"Anything that will help me find my way through this labyrinth will do, Aspasia." His look of earnest gratitude earned him another of those smiles.
"It's money that brings out their real hypocrisy," she said. "The old land-owning families like to think it grows out of the ground, so they look down on trade and commerce and manual work. A gentleman should just listen to philosophers, take part in politics and public service, and go off to fight in the wars, they think. All very fine, if you've enough money to feed, clothe and house you and to give away in sponsorship. Most of them, their estates don't produce that much.
"So they put their money in trade at a good rate of interest. However, they don't like anyone to know about it. They back manufacturers as well. A few of them really got it together and there are big boys still in the game, who intermarried with the aristocracy and didn't take kindly to your uncle linking up with a Syracusan and grabbing government contracts that they wanted.
"Am I getting through? Your uncle liked taking risks but maybe he risked too much. These people can be ruthless and they have political allies. You're in his place now, so don't make yourself a threat like your uncle did."
Lysanias eyes were wide open. Another whole area of possible suspects. His euphoria evaporated. He wasn't sure but thought he sensed a tinge of fear for herself for telling him, even though she had General Ariston as a protector.
"There. I've told you. You'll have to go now. I've a dinner party to get dressed for and this bedding needs changing after your sweaty body." She smiled approvingly. He smiled back, thanked her as well as he could, took his cloak out of his tool bag and wrapped it round him. He used the back door through the garden and was once more in the alleys of Inner Keramikos.
***
"No, Sindron, no discussion tonight. I'm too tired."
"I understand, master, but I've learnt much today, that you should know about." Sindron allowed his annoyance to show. The boy was exasperating. He'd come in starving, smelling of dubious activities, after playing at being a craftsman all day. Now he was refusing
even to listen!
"I've learnt a lot as well, Sindron, but I'll tell you in the morning." Sindron couldn't resist a schoolmasterly comment.
"I'm sure you have, master. I can smell it. Just because you've been working with ordinary people doesn't mean you have to behave like them."
"What do you mean 'smell it'?”
Sindron wasn't sure how to put this tactfully. "Sex, master, intercourse, the bodily juices, they have a distinctive smell... And the perfume as well. Very feminine. Didn't you realise?"
Lysanias hadn't. "I should have a wash down, shouldn't I? Before other people smell it."
"I think that would be advisable, master. I can tell you about the message-scroll in the morning."
That sent new energy coursing through Lysanias' body, and he insisted on hearing the essence of what Sindron and Philia had unearthed. He was impressed with Philia's initiative. Then Lysanias outlined his own discoveries, especially about Philebos. But his exhaustion proved too strong for much detail. His body cleansing proved very perfunctory before he collapsed onto his couch.
As he made his way back to his own room, Sindron felt a little guilty that he had not taken steps to assist Lysanias to a sexual education by finding a suitable prostitute. He was sure that the boy's father would have preferred that to a slut used by workmen.
He felt guilty too that he hadn't yet made a clean breast of the cargo loan, but he found he was actually more worried about what might have happened to his very own cargo. Was the ship safe, had it sunk, had the crew pilfered the cargo? Then Sindron's thoughts returned to Phraston's offer. Why did that give him a warm glow when he thought of it, rather than a guilt feeling at not having told his master?
Then even that was rapidly submerged in thoughts of Glykera's plump arms and cosy body, and an awareness of just how long it was since he had slept with a woman.
***
Lysanias was just dropping off to sleep, when he started up suddenly. Someone had come into the room! He was suddenly wary. But no, it was someone with a small shell lamp, shielded by an equally small female hand.
"Master, it's only me." He recognised the gentle but high-pitched voice as Nubis, and relaxed. Then, dozily, he wondered what Nubis was doing in his room?
"I've brought a message from the young mistress. Something about Klereides she thinks you ought to know."
"Oh, Nubis, I'm so tired. Won't it wait until tomorrow?" He was hardly able to keep his eyes open. Nubis had put the lamp down beside the couch and he could see her young breasts silhouetted against the light as they pushed against the tight-drawn tunic that left her shapely brown legs exposed.
"Poor master, you look exhausted. Why don't you just go to sleep now and I can tell you later?"
Gratefully, he felt himself relaxing again into sleep. "I'll just slip in here beside you and make sure you're comfortable." A gentle hand was reaching round him and feeling where Aspasia's hand had played only a few hours before. Oh, no, he couldn't, not again! Yet surprisingly he could, in the hands of another expert. So this was another of the benefits of having slaves! Her trim muscular figure was like a boy's, he thought. Quite unlike the soft yielding flesh of Aspasia.
"That's good, master! See what we've been missing."
She was encouraging, though he could sense that she was disappointed. But what could he say?
"Master, Philia ...” He started at the name, feeling guilty. "Philia says that Klereides had bad dreams and talked in his sleep, saying things about enemies and fighting back that sounded like he was afraid. And, ah, I've heard him too."
He was alert and angry now. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"We couldn't get near you, what with the funeral and the old mistress keeping guard on us." Then she slumped, in disappointment at being admonished. Lysanias put his arm round her shoulders comfortingly and kissed her. He found he did feel affection for the girl.
"Don’t be upset. You brought me the message as soon as you could. Now off to your bed with you. I must have sleep. Another big day tomorrow." He was being the strong master, he hoped, but, even as he had the thought, he was asleep and Nubis tiptoed out.
CHAPTER 12
"No need to tell Sindron or Lysanias about the nightmares, Nubis," Philia said gaily, as Nubis darkened her eyebrows and whitened her cheeks just a little to make Philia look more widow-like.
"Why's that, mistress?"
"I told Sindron yesterday."
"Oh, I see."
That didn't quite ring as it should, Philia felt. "What does that mean, Nubis?"
"Nothing, mistress."
Now that was Nubis' standard evasion, instantly recognisable. "Nubis!" Philia hit Makaria's tone exactly, the order to a slave to tell the truth. It drew a response.
"I told the young master. Last night." Then hurriedly, "When he was crossing the courtyard. Just after he came in.”
Philia wasn't sure if she believed it. Had the slave-girl gone to Lysanias in his room? If she had, what had happened between them? If she was going to have a new husband, Philia wanted one who would not be away from her bed most of the time like Klereides. So, a little more effort would be required to make sure Lysanias found her irresistible.
"I think I will have just a touch of red earth in the cheeks, Nubis. And a little more of that Arabian perfume Klereides bought me."
"Yes, mistress."
***
Sindron was straightening and brushing out Lysanias' mourning cloak behind him when he said it.
"Would you consider selling me, master?"
Lysanias had been admiring himself in the bronze mirror, its frame inlaid with rare stones. He was imagining, with pleasure, what women might see in his looks, when Sindron's question stopped his day-dreaming dead.
"Why do you ask, Sindron?" Lysanias feigned indifference.
"I thought perhaps master would prefer a personal slave closer to his own age, someone more accustomed to care of body and clothes."
"Is this something to do with the … ah, way I smelled when I came in yesterday?"
"No, no, master, I am no prude." Lysanias wasn't sure he would have agreed. "I may have felt you might have asked my advice on a suitable, ah, person for a first encounter, but ...”
Lysanias smiled at the euphemism. "I assure you she was perfectly suitable, Sindron." His grin broadened, as he remembered Aspasia's pink charms.
"I'm sure, master." Sindron at his most obsequious.
"Sindron, are you concealing something?"
"No, uh ... " Sindron started and then decided it had to be shared, now or never. "Master, a wealthy gentleman has offered to buy me and give me my freedom..."
"Who?" Lysanias demanded.
“... and a way of providing for my old age ...”
"Who?"
“... and I feel that, at my age, I should be thinking seriously about this." He felt relieved to have completed the statement he had prepared, even if it didn't tell the whole story.
"Sindron, who made this ridiculously generous offer and why?" Lysanias doubted whether anyone could be so foolish as to spend good money in order to give freedom to another person's slave, but then he had never known Sindron be this evasive before. He grasped Sindron firmly by the upper arms, feeling the old bones through the flesh, and forced the slave to look straight at him. For a moment, they just looked at one another, disbelief and curiosity mixed on Lysanias' face, uncertainty and wariness on Sindron’s.
"Phraston, master. The master of my friend Lydos. The banker. You're right; it is a bribe to attempt to hinder your investigations, I'm sure of it, though I must admit it is a very attractive bribe. For a slave."
"Why do you say it's to hinder our investigations?” Lysanias' tone was controlled and cold, as he emphasised the 'our'. His faith in the one person he felt he could trust was badly shaken, but he couldn't afford to lose his temper. Not yet.
Sindron’s eyes moved shamefacedly away from his own and looked over Lysanias' shoulder at nothing. "Their first offer was that I inform
them of your plans and discoveries. For money." He looked back into Lysanias' eyes, agitated. "I refused that outright, of course, master." Sindron put as much force and conviction into it as he could. Lysanias' reply amazed him.
"Good, Sindron! Good! You must accept." Lysanias let go his slave's arms and paced the floor, thinking as he sought words. He believed the man; no-one would make up a story like that, and definitely not someone as conventional as Sindron.
"But, master ...”
"Accept the first offer. They must have reasons for wanting to halt our investigations. Maybe we're getting close to the truth. Maybe they're involved with Hermon in some way."
"Exactly what I thought, master, but how can you …?"
"Don't you see, Sindron? That way you can give them false information about what we've found out, and, if they trust you, they may let something slip."
"Master, it's dishonest!"
"Sindron, since I've been in Athens, I haven't seen much that can't be classed as dishonest to some extent. Have you?"
That gave Sindron pause, but he still didn't like the idea.
"What about the freedom offer, master?" It really did seem a pity to let that dream go. "And how do I explain the fact that I refused originally?"
"Ah, yes, that's a problem." Lysanias found he was enjoying working out this devious puzzle. "You could say that it will take time to persuade me to sell you and that, in the meantime, you want proof of their sincerity ...”
"Master!" Was it he or Athens that was corrupting the boy so that he could think this way?
"Yes, well. You must have lied before in your life, Sindron. Or concealed the truth a little, eh?"
That hit Sindron where it hurt. He still hadn't told his master about that little embezzlement that disturbed him so.
"It is attractive, master."
"What? Oh, freedom. Look, Sindron, support me till we've sorted out my uncle's murder and my inheritance and you can have your freedom, if you want it. And a pension. How's that?" Lysanias felt the old man deserved it and, if he had inherited as much money as Sindron had indicated last night, Lysanias could afford it.
