Glory and the Lightning

by Taylor Caldwell

  The guards would not make their rounds again for an hour, and by that time she would have returned. She waited a little, then silently rose from her bed and went to the chamber of Cleo. The young girl’s eyes shimmered in the moonlight, as brilliant as black opals and as variable, and she rose at once and embraced Aspasia, and the older maid felt the heat of the child’s body through her shift. She endured the embrace; she kissed the innocent brow, then disentangled herself, murmuring softly and even consolingly. A balmy wind had arisen, and now the sea could be heard, somnambulant and hypnotic, as if heavy eyelids had drooped over the eyes of Poseidon and he slept also.

  Aspasia had wrapped herself in a dark cloak. She stole from her chamber, where Cleo now lay with covered hair, and moved like a moth down the hall. At a distance she could see the torches beyond the atrium, thrust into the walls, and the light of a far lamp, which smelled of ambergris. There was no sound at all except for the nightingale and the wind and the owl and the sea and the soft rustling of leaves.

  A guard, a man, passed through the atrium, his sword in his hand, and Aspasia shrank against the wall, holding her breath. She waited until the sound of his sandals had died on stone, and then she fled as silently as the wing of a bird through the atrium and out into the night. Her bare feet were immediately wet with dew and she could smell the disturbed scent of grass, and she sped as lightly as Artemis over the warm and glittering earth. The moon stood at the apex of the sky, full and swelling, like an enormous plate of light against the blackness of the heavens. Avoiding all open places Aspasia bent double in the sharp darknesses, hardly breathing, and listening for an alarm or a movement. Her heart was thrumming and her body was trembling. She had covered her bright hair with the hood of her cloak and had dropped it over her face, so that she appeared part of the shadows themselves.

  She reached the grove of myrtles, panting softly and quickly. The tops of the trees were blazing with moonlight, and, as the leaves stirred, they gleamed as if plated with shining and restless silver and their voices were as the movement of gentle silk. Beyond the gardens and the grass the sea heaved slowly, a plain of white light nearly motionless. The columns of the house behind Aspasia were lucent as alabaster, splashed by the ruddy light of an occasional torch which shifted over them like the shadow of burning leaves. The torches hissed a little and crackled and the odor of resin mingled with the fragrance of earth and flowers.

  She paused in the deep shadow of the myrtles. There was still no sound of anyone abroad this night except herself and the guard. She crept deeper into the shade. She dared not call. Had Thalias been detained by his mistress? Had he been unable to slide from her bed? Then Aspasia felt the strong grip of a man’s hand on her arm, and she started and almost cried out. Instantly a hot firm mouth was on hers; arms encircled her like arms of iron, and she sank to the grass in the embrace of Thalias and his breath was in her throat and his tongue pierced between her lips.

  She was suddenly terrified of the unknown, though her flesh was singing a fierce and joyous song it had never sung before, like all the drums and the lutes in the whole universe, sweeter than life itself and as overwhelming, and strange and a little terrible. Feebly she tried to thrust Thalias from her, but he held her with one hard muscular arm and with his other hand he lifted her shift and then his lips were on her virgin breast and a rapturous languor overcame her and she lay still.

  The crushed grass exhaled; the nightingale sang more poignantly, the plangent fountains splashed and then became the confused roar of a cataract, spilling fragrances, and the whispering myrtles, dancing with light, were a chamber of pleasure. There was the stammering moan of love in one of Aspasia’s ears, the rising gasp of a man’s passion, and she could not move, weighted down by a man’s body upon hers, aware of the crispness of a man’s hair against her cheek and the inexorable and rigid thrust between her soft thighs. The night swooned in its own melody.

  Once there was the quick cry of a startled girl, swiftly silenced by demanding lips, and the ground appeared to rise and fall like the sea itself under Aspasia’s body, moved to ecstasy, a fainting ecstasy which momentarily darkened the girl’s consciousness. She felt herself not only in her own flesh but part of the flesh of the whole world, writhing in almost intolerable bliss. She felt that she was penetrating all secrets and that nothing she had learned before was of consequence, and she gave herself up to joy, incoherently murmurous, and weeping in the embrace which was both mutual and hotly entangled.

  Somewhere there was a man’s moan, a rapid groaning growing more tumultuous, and a savage and triumphant delight seized Aspasia, the delight of the conquered and yet the conqueror, and suddenly all was fire and shuddering transports beyond description.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Aspasia crept into the house she remembered her erotic promise to Cleo. Her flesh was still throbbing and her heart shaking and the thought of Cleo sickened her. Resolutely, however, she ran silently down the hall to her chamber, and, to her joy, she discovered that the child was sleeping heavily, her hand under her cheek. But she was in Aspasia’s bed, and Aspasia paused, thinking. Finally she went to Cleo’s chamber and lay down on the bed. Exhausted with delight, she fell instantly asleep, but not before covering her hair.

  Before dawn she awakened, and went to her chamber and aroused Cleo. She whispered, “Do not speak. You have slept the night through, my dear one, and must return to your own chamber at once, for soon we will be called to arise.”

  Cleo’s eyes filled with disappointed tears, and Aspasia suffered her embraces and caresses for a brief moment, then again whispering a warning she removed the girl’s arms and forced her gently to leave, nodding promises for the future. She had hardly composed herself in her own bed when the guardians arrived to wake the maidens to another day.

  She was in her mathematics class when she received a summons from Thargelia. This was most unusual, and the girl paled with apprehension. Following the slave, she came to Thargelia’s chamber, to find the mistress of the hetairai in a cold rage. Never had she worn such a countenance before, pallid and tightened, her eyes glinting, and Aspasia thought, All is lost. I have been discovered. But, at Thargelia’s silent gesture, she seated herself and folded her hands on her knee. If Thargelia had not been in such anger she would have been curious as to the reason for Aspasia’s whiteness and the fear in her eyes.

  The mistress said abruptly, “Did aught disturb you in the night, Aspasia?”

  She is tormenting me, the girl said to herself. She wet her lips and mutely shook her head. While Thargelia stared at her implacably she prepared to speak and finally could do so. “I sleep very well, Thargelia. Little awakens me.”

  Thargelia played with her jeweled necklace and continued to stare at the girl. She said, “You are not one to betray a companion. I have discerned that before. But this is very serious. Did you not hear any furtive footsteps in the night or see a passing figure?”

  Aspasia returned her stare and some of the fear left her. “Nothing. I saw and heard nothing.”

  “You saw none of your companions in the hall?”

  “None. I slept through the night.”

  Thargelia did not remove her hard gaze. “One of the guardians looked into the chamber of Cleo, and discovered her absence. Very quietly, so as not to alarm others, the guardians searched the house, including the latrines. Cleo was not to be found. The guards outside and in the portico had seen no one. But one of some superstition swore that he had glimpsed a maiden in the moonlight, but when he pursued she vanished, and he is of the opinion that he had seen a nymph. He could not discern her features, but he swears that her face reflected the moon, and now he is convinced that he saw Artemis, herself.” At this Thargelia’s mouth writhed in scorn and fresh fury.

  ‘Oh, gods,’ thought Aspasia with new fear. Cleo! If she kept silent she would suffer terrible punishment, and be sent to work in the meanest of occupations. She was only a child, and therefore, in dread of such punishment she doubtless would te
ll the truth. Both probabilities were equally appalling. Aspasia said, in a shaking voice, “I have remembered something. Cleo, who is still a thoughtless child, came into my bed, whispering she had had a nightmare, and she was afraid. She remained for a while with me, while I comforted her.”

  Thargelia considered, while Aspasia gazed at her with strained eyes. Thargelia then said, “You are a poor liar, Aspasia, and it is possible you have never lied before. Why should you protect such as Cleo? I have seen no affection in you for the girl, and that you have avoided her. Yet you admitted her to your bed! A child, you say. She is but two years younger than yourself, and you are nubile. I will question her.”

  “She is about to pose again for Tmolus, Thargelia. It would not be well to interrupt his class.”

  Seeing that Thargelia was still studying her with reflection Aspasia continued: “Perhaps Cleo was restless, and the moon is full. Perhaps she was heated in the night—after she left me—and roamed in the gardens, as a child roams who cannot sleep.”

  Thargelia said, “Have you discerned any predilection on her part for any particular young male slave?”

  “We have few here, and most are younger even than Cleo, and the others are of no great beauty and work in the gardens all day. No, Cleo has not looked at them with any attention.” She had a thought and then said boldly, “Why do you not have Echion examine her to confirm, or deny, her virginity?”

  Thargelia pursed her lips. “That is an excellent suggestion. However, I mistrust Echion. He might destroy her virginity, himself, with his ruthless fingers, if not worse.”

  “Then, Thargelia, you must watch him, yourself.”

  Thargelia played with her necklace. “That, too, is a good suggestion. I will have that done. Echion is in the city and will return tomorrow morning. In the meantime, do not alarm Cleo, Aspasia. She might run away.”

  She dismissed Aspasia. Aspasia did not return to her class, for she was too overwhelmed by this calamity. Instead, she went to her small chamber. She sat on her bed in the silent dormitory and began to think with despair. The situation called for extreme decision. She could not let Cleo suffer for her own wantonness. Even if she, herself, confessed—and she trembled at the thought—Cleo would also be punished for her part in the escapade. Enough. There must be instant action.

  She now considered Thalias for the first time. Discovery would entail the most drastic punishment a slave can receive: castration. She did not love him, but he had become her victim. She no longer remembered her ecstasies in his arms, and only determined that he must not suffer for her own abandon. She knelt by her bed and pulled out her small bronze chest of treasures from beneath it. The last gift of her dead young mother was still here, a purse of gold coins. She weighed it in her hand. It was very heavy.

  Now she must seek out Thalias, who, before he was called to teach the maidens, spent his time gossiping with the other slaves in the kitchens. There was no one she could trust to send for him. But she must face the danger. She left her bedroom and wandered out to the gardens and to the spot where the maidens practiced archery under Thalias’ direction. She found her bow and quiver and with apparent desultoriness shot at the target, and then expostulated aloud as if overcome with her own lack of skill. The gardeners covertly watched her and admired her beauty and the posture of her young body. Seeing this, she threw down her bow with exasperation, turned, tossed back her hair, and appeared to think. She let her eyes wander to an old gardener nearby, and she summoned him imperatively. He came at once.

  She said, “I am about to engage in a competition with other of the maidens, and I am a poor archer, and this shames me. Summon Thalias—that lazy and ever hungry slave—from the kitchen. He must help me at once.”

  The gardener bowed and touched his breast. He was stupid as well as old and Aspasia had chosen him well. She picked up her bow again, and though she was usually accurate and skillful she pretended that her missings of the target were in spite of her efforts. She sank on the grass dolefully, shaking her head, and fretfully pulling at the grass.

  Thalias was suddenly at her elbow, his eyes ardent with memories. After furtively glancing at him she put her finger to her lips and he was immediately still. She rose and said loudly, “You must help me! I am worse today, with the bow, than ever before.”

  As he was moderately intelligent he became tense and acutely aware, and his browned cheeks paled. It was not approved that a maiden should see an instructor alone, and so he was aware that he was in danger. He helped Aspasia to her feet and whispered in her ear, as he bent to brush her clothing free of grass, “What is it, my adored one?”

  “Silence,” she said. She took the bow from his hand and fitted an arrow in it. “Become an actor,” she murmured. “You are bored by my lack of dexterity. You will put your hand on mine as I draw the bow. You will lean against me from behind. You will reproach me loudly. Now.”

  The gardeners watched with amusement as the proud young hetaira was reproached by the slave, Thalias, for her clumsiness. They saw his vexation, for Thalias was by nature an actor. He was insulting, even to this most cherished one. None but Aspasia saw his paleness and his trembling hands nor saw the fright in his eyes. She no longer desired him. She only knew that he must be saved. She pushed the purse of gold into his hand, and immediately he dropped it into the pouch at his girdle without even an exclamation.

  She whispered, “Do not ask me any questions. But you must flee at once. Do not wait for the night, when the guards are most attentive and pursue even shadows. Stroll down the road idly. They will not suspect, for are you not the pampered darling of Thargelia? I can only tell you that you are in the most desperate danger, and must not delay even another hour. You have much gold. Go to the harbor and take the first ship leaving the port, no matter its destination. You have not been branded as a slave, and gold answers all questions. Be at ease and haughty. In the city purchase a chest and fill it with garments, and induce a beggar to carry it for you to the vessel. It will be thought he is your slave.”

  His face was contorted with terror. She pushed his arm. “Array yourself in your finest tunic and sandals, and a cloak. Go at once. There is not a moment to be lost.”

  “We have been discovered,” he said through his dry lips.

  “Yes,” she said with wild impatience.

  Then he said, “But what of you, my sweet nymph?”

  In spite of the extremity of her own fear she was touched, and she gazed at him. “Naught will be inflicted on me if you have fled,” she answered.

  With an oath he took the bow from her hands and threw it on the ground and the gardeners were more amused. He walked from her as if deeply outraged, muttering to himself. Aspasia looked after him with an air of anger and mortification. Then she stamped her foot and ran back into the house, shaking her hair off her neck and shoulders. It was a cloud of gold in the sunlight.

  She returned to her chamber and again sank on her bed. She covered her face with her hands. She did not believe in the gods but she prayed to Aphrodite for Thalias’ and Cleo’s preservation. She had seduced both. They must not suffer for her. Cleo was in less danger now, and would be subjected only to Echion’s rough examinations, which would reveal her virginity. Aspasia sighed out of the extremity of her emotions.

  Later, after she had forced herself to attend her classes, she went to the gardens to join the other maidens who were chattering with excitement. Thalias had not appeared. One of the girls wished to run for the overseer of the hall to inform him. Aspasia, knowing that every moment was precious, said with contempt, “He is a mighty eater and drinker. No doubt he is lying in his chamber, drunk.”

  “Or in Thargelia’s arms,” one of the girls said, slyly.

  The others tittered. ‘Then, of a surety, we must not disturb him,” said Aspasia. “Come, let us practice our archery.”

  She had authority, and the girls obeyed her. Cleo was among them, with her innocent child’s face. Seeing her, Aspasia was newly distressed. Nothing mu
st hurt this little one.

  The overseer of the hall, wandering out to the portico to watch the delectable sight of the young hetairai romping, noticed the absence of Thalias. He came to the maidens and asked, “Where is that rascal of a Thalias?”

  “Thalias?” Aspasia asked, as if in wonder. “Was he not here a moment ago?”

  To her dismay one of the maidens answered, “He has not been here at all.”

  “Then he is with Thargelia,” said Aspasia. “Come. Let us toss and catch the ball.”

  The overseer became enchanted by all this young grace and the joyous laughter of the girls. He watched for a long time. He caught glimpses of their round young legs as they ran and as their long tunics lifted, and he saw delightful young bosoms heaving. He was certain that not even in Arcadia were the nymphs so beauteous and so perfect in face and form. He kept licking his lips as he watched. Then he remembered that Thalias had never been absent before. He went back to the house and Aspasia saw him go with anxiety.

  When the maidens returned to the house they found everything in confusion. Slaves excitedly ran everywhere, and the house was filled with vehement babbling. Thargelia stood with the overseer of the hall in the atrium. Discerning Aspasia, her favorite, she exclaimed, “Have you seen Thalias?”

  Aspasia halted and seemed to think, frowning. “But an hour ago,” she said. The other maidens raised a chorus of fluting voices and declared he had not been seen at all today.

  “Where did you see him, Aspasia?” asked the mistress, and Aspasia knew she had made a foolish mistake. She put her finger to her lips and considered. “It was after history class. He passed us in the hall.”