Glory and the Lightning

by Taylor Caldwell

  Al Taliph drew them to him as gently as a father, and then he lifted their tunics so that their hairless childish bodies and private parts could be seen clearly. He admired them elaborately. “They are twins,” he said, “and as healthy as newborn lambs, without blemish or stain or the touch, so far, of a man’s hands. Will they not grace your bed, Damos? It will be ten years—before they are too old for your taste. In the meantime, they are delightful as little boys, and do not you Greeks prefer such?”

  Thalias was more uneasy than before. His cheeks colored. Now he felt the force of Aspasia’s stare and he looked quickly at her.

  She did the unpardonable: She spoke without first being addressed. She said, “They are slaves, and too young and helpless to run away. Who would succor them? Who would hide and comfort them—or give them gold?”

  Thalias paled. He heard and understood the explicit threat in her raised clear voice, and he knew that she was prepared to destroy herself, and him, for the sake of these children. Moreover, he had no lust for such little ones and he was not depraved. He hesitated in confusion. He dared not refuse a gift from his host, and he wet his lips. He could feel Aspasia’s wild and terrible challenge though she did not speak again. As for Al Taliph he ignored her as if she had not spoken at all. The guests were incredulous at his sufferance of this forward woman.

  Thalias said, “I am deeply touched, lord, for your kindness and condescension.” He paused. The guests nodded and moistened their own mouths.

  Thalias continued: “My wife has given me one son, and longs for a female child or two. I will give these children to her, for she can bear no more, and she brought me an excellent dowry and has been most dutiful in all her ways.”

  Al Taliph’s smile became fixed, and the guests exchanged glances of amazement. But Thalias’ smile was brave.

  “My wife,” he went on, “is a lady of much virtue and the only offspring of her parents, and she was nurtured and tended and educated. One can understand this, for her people were brought out from Babylon by a leader of the name of Abraham and they now live in the land of Israel. They have a certain respect for women. Permit me, in my wife’s name, to thank you, lord, and if it will not offend you I shall request her to send you a grateful message.”

  Al Taliph spoke with gravity, inclining his head. “They are yours, my dear friend, to do with as you will.” He looked suddenly at Aspasia, saw the tears in her eyes and her trembling smile and he touched her knee with a caressing hand, and left that hand there. She sighed. She bent her head so that she would not weep openly. She pressed her knee, without volition, against Al Taliph’s fingers, in an involuntary caress of her own. I have been forgiven, he thought, and laughed inwardly at himself. Yet, he was pleased.

  He said, “The message from your lady will be received by me with pleasure. Let them be daughters to her, these little ones.”

  Later he summoned Aspasia to his bed and kissed the wounds he had inflicted on her, and she turned impulsively to him and laid her head on his breast and did not know why, in her turmoil of thoughts, she felt happiness and desire and a dangerous emotion she refused to examine.

  He said, “Had you, today, asked me for those children as handmaidens for yourself, my empress, I should have given them to you at once. No, do not speak,” and he laid his lips on hers and drew her down beside him.

  CHAPTER 13

  Al Taliph was about to go to Damascus with one of his caravans, and he had invited Thalias to accompany him and permit Thalias’ overseer to guide his own caravan to the city. Thalias had heard of the splendor and foods and wines and girls who accompanied Al Taliph on these expeditions and eagerly accepted, thinking of huge Persian tents and luxuries, and of the dancing and singing women. He also thought of Aspasia and wondered if she accompanied her lord.

  The satrap was still away this afternoon, just before sunset, and Thalias, who was always bored when not engaged in some activity, wandered out into the garden, chewing a handful of ripe dates. He found the palace oppressive with all its halls and fountains and its eastern air. He did not like Damascus, either, but he lived there on his business and with his wife—he had only one—and often longed for Miletus, or for Greece which he could visit at will, and in particular, Athens. As yet he had not dared to go to Miletus, where he had been born, for he might be recognized as a runaway slave and seized. In Greece, however, he found refreshment from the hot turgidity of the east, and it was good to speak his own tongue among fellow merchants, who admired and respected him, and to enjoy, as he said, honest food.

  He did not look at Kurda who appeared not to see him, for the eunuch was staring fixedly at someone in the garden, and Thalias looked with interest in that direction. There, in the shade of a group of date palms sat Aspasia on a marble bench whose arms were carved in the shape of Persian tigers. She was like a young and lonely girl, engaged with her thoughts, her flesh and tunic no darker than the white stone on which she sat. Thalias’ heart tingled with pleasure, for often he remembered Aspasia even in the arms of his wife, and had loved her. He saw the quiet melancholy of her face. She was gazing at a fishpond but did not seem to see it. He went quickly across the path towards her, the gravel grating under his elegant shoes.

  She lifted her head and looked at him absently, then her face changed. Kurda stiffened at the doors. Surely even the barbarian understood that no male guest approached a woman this openly, and in the absence of his host or the absence of slaves and attendants! But Thalias, acquainted though he was with the east, forgot everything in his desire to speak alone to Aspasia and to look more closely at her in this humid and shining light. She watched him approach, then glanced with alarm at Kurda, who had left the doors and was now standing on the low steps leading to the gardens, his fat face avid. She did not stir, but when Thalias, smiling like the sun, was almost upon her she said, in a very low voice, “This is most indiscreet, Thalias. Yonder eunuch is master of the other eunuchs, and he wishes to destroy me. He watches me constantly for something dangerous to report to Al Taliph.”

  Thalias halted, his smile disappearing. “Do not look at him,” whispered Aspasia. “No, do not sit beside me.” She rose, then indicated that he should seat himself, and he did, and she stood before him. “Let us pretend that we are strangers, and that you wish to amuse yourself for a moment with my company, and that you disdain me.”

  “Aspasia,” he said, with sadness.

  She was moved at his tone. She tried to smile. “I am not unhappy,” she said. “There are hours and even days when I am very happy and content.”

  She assumed a humble attitude, and Thalias shook his head slightly. He said, “Alas, I am only a slave after all, and I have never forgotten you nor what you are in truth.”

  “What am I?” she said, with sudden bitterness. “I am the hired concubine of my lord, little more than a whore. Yet, I am without discontent.” She half-turned from him and stared at one of the bronze statues and he followed her eyes and said, “They are monstrous, are they not, and do they not resemble the east?”

  “Tell me of Greece, and Athens, which I have never seen,” she said.

  “Ah, Athens!” he exclaimed, and she put her finger warningly to her lips. He dropped his voice. “It is foaming like the sea with thoughts and movements and great men! Have you heard of Pericles, the famed son of Xanthippus? The father many years ago was a power in Athens and its politics; he defeated the remnants of Xerxes’ fleet at Mycale. Xanthippus was a heroic man, and his wife was Agariste, the niece of Cleisthenes, she was the mother of Pericles. Her family was connected with the former Tyrants of Sicyon and she was also of the family of the Alcmaeonidae. Surely, you have heard of the illustrious Pericles?”

  “Pericles?” repeated Aspasia. She thought. “Ah, I believe that my lord has mentioned him with humor, for the Persians still believe the Greeks to be barbarians in spite of their victories over Xerxes. Is he not a politician?”

  “He is more.” Then Thalias added, “But Al Taliph quotes the Grecia
n philosophers with ease, so he can hardly believe Greece to be barbaric.”

  Aspasia said, “He believes that only Persia is entirely civilized, though he admits that Greek philosophers are now commanding attention throughout the world. He speaks to me little of modern history or the movements of nations. They bore him. He prefers things only of the mind,” and her smile was bitter again as she remembered Al Taliph’s harem. “His library is constantly replenished with the works of many philosophers, and he is convinced that the Persian ones are more subtle and mature, and certainly more profound. I am permitted to sit in his library and read what I will, and I have confined myself to the Greek philosophers, for my knowledge of other languages is not extraordinary.”

  “You are as confined here as when you were a maiden in the house of Thargelia,” said Thalias, with pity.

  “In a greater measure,” said Aspasia. “I go only to the market place. I have no companions, no friends. Ah, do not look so compassionate, my Thalias. I have told you I am often happy.”

  “Yes, he is a man of mind,” said Thalias, who was fascinated by Al Taliph. “But he is also a merchant, and very rich and discerning. Why does he not speak to you of what he sees and hears in the cities his caravans visit?”

  “I am only a woman,” said Aspasia, but she smiled. “But still, he converses with me on all things which do not concern the immediate present. We have very erudite conversations, when we are alone,” and her smile was wry. “Tell me of this famous Pericles.”

  Pride was in Thalias’ voice as he said, “He is a statesman, and more, and is married to the daughter of a noble house and has two sons, and is very rich. He was educated by Zeno of Elea, who taught him the power of dialectic, and by that most famed astronomer, Anaxagoras. So his eloquence can turn marble into flesh. He can even move that damnable Ecclesia. He helped to prosecute Cimon on a charge of bribery, after Cimon’s Thasian campaign. He also attacked the Areopagus two years ago, and though his colleague, Ephialtes, has been given the credit of renouncing the Spartan alliance and the League with Thessaly and Argos, these were indeed the labor of Pericles, who deferred to his elder and allowed him to be celebrated for these acts. Pericles is a man of honor and discretion and tolerance.”

  “Alas,” said Aspasia, “all these are but names to me. I have become an ignorant woman.”

  “Alas,” Thalias echoed her. “I will continue. When Ephialtes was assassinated Pericles inherited the highest position in the State. He has not abandoned the dream of Ephialtes of making the citizens of Athens self-governing, and he is constantly challenging the Ecclesia, for he is not only bold but he is brave.” Thalias looked at Aspasia reflectively.

  “Pericles has a hetaira as a companion. Would that you were she, most beauteous Aspasia.”

  She laughed a little.

  Thalias continued. “Pericles has a noble mind and is irked by the rule of the Ecclesia and its religious intolerance. It is said that he has confided to friends that Athens is in need of a rejuvenation of mind and soul. Many agree with him, but at the present it is not adding to his popularity. But he is like Zeus, not afraid to hurl thunderbolts, for he is Olympian of character and is famous for his composed bearing and his godlike dignity. He is also very handsome and proud.” Thalias hesitated.

  “It is said his head is deformed and that is why he wears a towering helmet on almost every occasion, but that could be a slander.”

  Aspasia was silent and melancholy resumed its shadow on her face. Seeing this, the naturally warm-hearted Thalias said with impulsiveness, “Ah, that I could help you as you helped me, Aspasia!”

  She made herself smile again. “I was not entirely generous, my dear Thalias. But you have not told me how you fared when you fled Miletus.”

  “I took the first vessel, and after long journeys I arrived in Damascus. I became the friend of an elderly merchant, who had no sons. He was from the land of Israel and I married his daughter.” He paused, and smiled widely. “I adopted their religion and I—” He paused again and Aspasia laughed aloud, and he laughed also. “I was duly circumcised and though I am still regarded with some suspicion by my father-in-law, who is very devout, he has no cause to complain. I also had considerable of the gold you gave me and I used it wisely and invested it with Ephraim. I am not unknown in Damascus,” and he dropped his merry eyes in a parody of humility, and Aspasia again laughed.

  “I am happy that you are so successful,” she said.

  He stood up and would have taken her hand but she shook her head with another warning. “It is best to leave me now, Thalias-Damos, and may the gods be with you.” She glanced at Kurda, who was still standing on the steps, his hands on his hips and his legs spread apart in a virile attitude. He was staring with even more avidity at the girl and the young man at a distance and was still trying to hear what they had been saying. But their voices had remained low.

  Thalias said, “May the gods—and also Jehovah—be with you, Aspasia. It may be that we shall meet again.”

  Mindful of Kurda she bowed to him formally and he bowed in return and left her. He passed Kurda with a genial smile but the eunuch scowled at him savagely and did not move, so that Thalias had to step around him. Aspasia resumed her seat on the bench, and she considered all that Thalias had told her and she thought, “I am immured here like a nymph caught in crystal, or I resemble Dryope, who was changed into a mute tree, and when I would grasp my hair to assure myself that I still live as a woman my hands are filled with leaves.”

  Then she laughed a little even as she sighed. “But the leaves are fragrant and shine like silver, and my fate could be worse.”

  Kurda went to Al Taliph, bowed his head almost to his knees and said, “Lord, the foreign woman has been indiscreet again.”

  Al Taliph frowned impatiently. “Has she been annoying my women despite my commands?”

  “Ah, lord, if it were only that! It is much worse.” Kurda assumed the face and posture of a tragedian and Al Taliph suppressed a smile.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  Kurda hesitated. He knew that Thalias was an honored guest in this house, so he had prepared his story in advance. He said, “Your noble friend, lord, Damos, was walking in the garden just before sunset and the foreign woman approached him boldly in an open encounter and spoke with him. He would have left her but she forced him to sit upon a marble seat, and not desiring to give offense to one of your household, lord, he submitted and she stood before him and they conversed together. I tried to hear the conversation but they spoke very quietly.”

  Al Taliph’s face was inscrutable. “The women of Miletus are not so immured as ours, and my guest is from Athens where women have greater freedom.”

  He dismissed Kurda who was sickened with disappointment. As for Al Taliph, he felt some vexation at Aspasia’s indiscretion. Kurda, in spite of his malignance, had found nothing excessively wrong and Al Taliph, knowing Aspasia, did not believe that she had seized upon Damos shamelessly. As for Damos, he had married an Israelite woman and doubtless he was accustomed to a more tolerant attitude with regard to women. Aspasia often refused to wear a veil in the palace or the garden, as did the other women, and he, Al Taliph, had indulged her. She was a beautiful woman and had sat at his feet two nights ago and he had conversed with her before his guests, so Damos had probably guessed that she enjoyed a unique position in the household and had shown her courtesy. Al Taliph tapped his teeth with his finger and sent for Aspasia.

  She soon entered his chamber and he held out his hand to her and she came to him at once and was drawn down to his feet. As always, her lovely face brightened in his presence. He poured a goblet of wine for her and put it into her hand gently, then kissed her wrist. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and sighed. The light fragrance of lilies drifted from her body, and he was pleased, for it was his favorite scent.

  “I have heard, my snowy swan, that you have been indiscreet today,” he said.

  Aspasia started and he saw this. Her thoughts f
astened on Kurda. Had he heard any word in the garden? Had he heard the words of affection and admiration which Thalias had uttered? She held herself from trembling and said, “How have I offended you, lord?”

  “It is not our custom, Aspasia, for women to accost male strangers and to converse with them in secret.”

  She forced herself to laugh lightly. “Oh, that Kurda! He has the mind of a cesspool. And my conversation with—your guest—his name is Damos, is it not?—was concerned only with the children you gave to him, for his wife.”

  Al Taliph studied her closely. “And what was the conversation, my adored one?”

  She said at once, “I told him that I prayed that his wife would love the little ones and accept them in her house, as a mother.”

  Al Taliph shook his head in amused exasperation. “You are very tenacious, are you not? You wished to assure yourself that the girls would not serve their original purpose?”

  Aspasia knew that her best defense was boldness. She bent over him and kissed him deeply on the mouth. “Can any woman trust a man?” she asked. “It is true that I wished to reassure myself. Did I not deserve that at the least, for what you did to me in punishment?” She dropped her robe from her shoulders and back and let him see the healing wounds and then let the robe drop farther so that her beautiful breasts were fully displayed to him. She eyed him artlessly, as if this was an accident and his dark face flushed. He put his hand on her breast and felt the strong beating of her heart, and thought it passion and not fear.

  “There are times,” he said, “when I think you are a veritable child.” He kissed the breast he held and Aspasia closed her eyes with relief, thanking Thargelia in her mind for having taught her wiles and control. “I forgive your forwardness,” he said, then remembered what he had been considering all the day in the city.