HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods

by Coffey, J. A.

  Ah! I thought. Now we come to the thorn in the story.

  “Did Aidne hate her because she was lovely and clever?” I asked. Merikos gave a short laugh.

  “Nay, young Doricha. She loved her for it.” His voice trailed away, and I had to strain to hear it. “More than any of us realized.”

  Aidne loved my mother? It seemed nigh impossible!

  “Tell me more,” I said. “How did Aidne come to hate my mother?”

  “Aidne’s heart was blackened when your mother left the temple to marry your father.”

  “But why?” I persisted.

  “Think, Doricha. Delus was a common soldier, although a very good one. He came to the temple to offer a sacrifice before the last war with the Spartans.” Merikos flushed, and I recognized the stain of jealousy in his face. How he must have cursed the day my father came to the mountain temple. “When his eyes fell upon your young mother, nothing would do but that he would have her. So your father prayed, deep within the heart of the temple, to give him victory over the Spartans, that he might claim Sita as his bride.”

  “And the ktístai allowed this?” I asked.

  “It is not for us to dictate the prayers of a man’s heart. Your father was truly blessed by the gods. He must have been, to prevail against the Spartan forces when no other army could. And blessed twice over, to win the heart of your mother.”

  You allowed this, you, who loved her? I thought. He must not have been near the powerful priest he was now, to have let her go so easily.

  “He came late one evening to claim Sita. They fled away into the night, and she went willingly, for as he loved her, Sita’s heart held no other but him. They escaped, leaving Aidne to discover only your mother’s empty chamber in the chill morning’s light.”

  I could tell Merikos was speaking with godly magic in his voice. He trained the story to make music to my ears. And I, knowing full well that deep within the mountain temple there was no morning light save from the ever burning torches, immersed myself in it nonetheless.

  How clearly I could picture my proud father with the hand of my mother safely ensconced in his grasp. He’d guarded her with the same fiery jealousy from the men of Perperek. But that still did not explain the rage in Aidne’s eyes, or the poison in her tongue.

  “And Aidne was enraged by the loss of her best pupil?” I asked.

  “Her best pupil, beloved of the gods and more…yes, that is when Aidne’s heart turned to stone.”

  “The Bacchae come and go as they please. Why should my mother be any different to Aidne, even if she was a blood relation?”

  “That is for your mother to say,” Merikos replied. His eyes were hooded.

  “You know the answer.” I pouted, twisting my face in an ugly grimace of frustration. After all the music of his tale, to be denied the final crumb of knowledge!

  “I have my suspicions only. It is for your mother to give you truth. But be warned, for it may not be the truth you would wish to hear from a mother’s lips. Now, go.” He patted me on the shoulder. “For it will soon be time for your lessons. Do not give Suvra chance to scold you. Oh, yes,” he said at my surprised expression, “We are a tight fit, all of us, under the mountain embrace. There is naught that goes unnoticed. Remember that, in the days to come.”

  And I did remember those words, but much later, and not in time to save any of us.

  Chapter Five

  Many days and nights passed. At last the blot on my soul seemed to recede. I revolved in a blissful cycle of absorbing lessons and watching my mother grow round with the weight of my unborn brother. Each day I looked forward to the challenges of my tutors, and each night I sank happily into sleep, with the memory of my hands cradling her burgeoning womb.

  I was doing so well at the temple. Many times, Amphis or Phryne complimented me, saying I was as lovely as my mother had once been. I was aglow with happiness. I’d failed my father, but I would not fail my brother. I was oblivious to all else but the approaching birth with which I sought to redeem myself. So I grew strong and limber under the tutelage of the Bacchae, and my mother’s weary eyes began to shine more in my presence. I sensed her approval and reveled in it, so sparingly had it been handed to me before our flight to the temple.

  Merikos, too, marked the change in my demeanor.

  “You are growing more beautiful each day, Doricha. Just as your mother was. Though perhaps without her innocence about you.”

  His words startled me. I had not told anyone of my guilt or the part I had played in my father’s demise. Not even Mara, my closest friend.

  “I cannot think what you mean, Merikos.” I fought the shame that flooded me. Why should he question my innocence? Fear pricked at the guilt I’d buried deep within my own mind.

  “Your father’s death. It has touched you here.” Merikos touched a gentle finger to the soft skin of my cheek. “And here.” He laid a warm palm to my chest.

  I flinched and he removed it at once.

  “Of course my father’s death marked me. Did you think I would be unmoved?” I asked.

  “I meant no offense, Dori. Do not let my words cause you pain.” A frown creased his forehead. “It was only a difference in your resemblance to Sita I meant to remark upon.”

  “Why should you compare me to her at all?” I was still angry with him. The room seemed unaccountably small and I turned away from my stool at the fire.

  Merikos shook his head. “You are more like her than you might imagine. But, come and sit. Let us not quarrel. I have more to teach you.” The corners of his mouth deepened.

  “Will you tell me why Aidne loved my mother?”

  I knew that would provoke him. Merikos was ever patient and kind with all the devotees, but Aidne was a sore place to him, like a splinter lodged deep under the skin.

  “That again? Ah!” Merikos threw up his hands. “I have told you. It is not my place to say.”

  “You don’t want me to know!” I challenged.

  “Enough! Either sit or leave. I will not be lectured by a child!”

  “A child? I am woman enough to feel your hand upon my breast.”

  Merikos looked stunned.

  I don’t know why I said it. Perhaps I did feel in some way he was using me as a substitute for the affection he could not show my mother. Or perhaps it was that angry black blot bubbling up from my soul to taint everything that I loved and turn it to dust.

  I spun on my heels and ran from him, wishing I could slam one of those heavy wooden doors between us. But alas, there were no doors to personal chambers. We trusted in the gods to protect us. Devotees had few personal belongings that were not conscribed into the temple wealth. What need had we for privacy and doors?

  So I ran blindly, not caring that Suvra stood just beyond in the shadows, with a faint ugly smile on her lips.

  *** ***

  I spent the morning crying. No one scolded me on my missed lessons. If I threw myself wholeheartedly into my dancing lesson, no one commented on it either, but Mara.

  “Are you angry with me?” Mara asked. I stared at her.

  “At you? No. Why do you ask?” I covered her hand with mine, so she might see I meant my words.

  “You’ve been absent at meals. And just now, in dance, your face flushed. I thought you were going to hurl me across the room when we spun about!”

  “I’m sorry. I…I argued with Merikos. I did not mean to take it out on you.”

  “Oh, Dori.” Mara looked troubled. “You mustn’t! Merikos is powerful. You’d not do well to anger him.”

  Mustn’t, mustn’t. I was forever being told what I could not do. But still, Merikos was powerful, and more importantly, kind when it came to me. I needed to apologize, but I could not face him just yet.

  “I know you are right,” I said. “I will visit him tomorrow.”

  Mara was silent for a moment. Then her eyes twinkled merrily. “Ordis looked at me today,” she whispered.

  “What of it? He looks at you every morning.” My
head was full of my own woe, I did not want to gossip with Mara.

  “No,” she giggled and covered my hand with hers. “He looked at me. In that way. I think he wishes to lie with me.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling odd. “Will the priests sanction your union?” Had Merikos ever looked at my mother in that way? I tried to picture it, but the thought made my chest ache.

  “I don’t know,” Mara admitted. And she went back to her alcove, while I dithered, deep in thought.

  I’d wronged Merikos, wounded him with my words. I could not stand this ugly thing between us. I just wanted everything to go back as it was before I knew of temple lies and secrets. Back to the days when Merikos filled my head with dreams.

  But the next day, I did not see Merikos before the morning meal. I set out as usual, hoping to catch him before his morning prayers. Suvra caught me before I left the devotees hall.

  “Aidne bids you to come to her chambers. Now.” She wore a smirk. I clenched my hand to keep from slapping it off her face.

  “Why does Aidne wish to see me?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” Suvra responded. Her eyes glinted in the darkness.

  I knew personal chambers had no wooden doors, and so I peeped at the one before me now and wondered at the marked difference in Aidne’s status. Why did she merit such privacy and why had I never noticed before now? My nose tickled, and I resisted the urge to scratch it, whilst Suvra went inside to announce me. Then the narrow wooden door opened a crack.

  “Enter, Doricha.”

  I was startled by the pleasant timbre of Aidne’s customary gruff voice. I swayed as gracefully as I could into the chamber, conscious of my gait under her scrutiny. Whatever I had done to merit her unwelcome attention, I would not provoke her further if I could help it.

  “Are you unhappy here at the temple, Doricha?” Aidne asked after a moment. Her breath was very warm on the back of my neck. She was very close indeed, and the hairs of my arms stood on end.

  “Unhappy? No! I am content here.” I tried to sound like a proper devotee.

  “Even with the loss of your beloved father? What a strange girl you must be.” Aidne’s voice was mild, but as treacherous as a hidden snake. I would have to take care that she did not twist my words.

  “To lose a parent to death or slavery is a risk all Thracian children must face at one time or another.” I raised my eyes then and did nothing to mask the pride in my gaze. “I have learned to be content.”

  “Content?” Aidne’s voice hardened.

  “Yes.”

  I focused my eyes on the twin lines running down her cheeks and watched as they deepened. She pursed her lips a little, giving me a glimpse of what Suvra’s face would be in the years to come. Then Aidne spoke again.

  “And how fare your lessons with the priest Merikos?”

  “I am pleased to learn of our sacred myths, Aidne.”

  “Pleased? Pleased! I think that a very odd choice for you, girl.”

  I couldn’t think of why she should say such a thing to me. “Odd? Not at all! I am happy to learn the mysteries of the temple with Merikos.”

  “Are you, indeed?” Her eyes slid like oil to where Suvra stood. “Then you are very like your mother. She too visited Merikos’ chambers, both as a girl and now.” She paused.

  I tried to follow her line of reason, but it was beyond me. “I…I am flattered by your compliment.”

  “Pah, you are more stupid then I imagined.” Aidne put her hands on her hips and glared at me.

  I tried not to shift my weight from hip to hip, nor fidget beneath her reptilian gaze. And all the while, my mind raced over the portent of her words.

  “Go,” she said brusquely. Her lips turned sour in an expression I guessed to be disappointment. “I have finished with you, for now.”

  I confess that I ran back to my chambers, as fast as the crowded passageways would allow, and not at all with the decorum of a temple devotee.

  *** ***

  That night I visited my mother’s chambers, as was my customary habit. She looked pale and more weary than usual. I should have guessed something was amiss.

  “You work too much,” I grumbled and pressed my cheek to her soul.

  My mother made a noncommittal sound. She lay on her side on the stiff straw pallet. I buried my face into the folds of her skirt, inhaling the soft scent of her skin. My nose tickled, and I wiped it with the back of my hand as my mother reached for a goblet of herbed wine.

  “What is that?” I asked, sniffing it. The scent made my nose itch again, so I handed it back before I dropped it. The odor reminded me of the musty scent of herbs in Aidne’s chamber.

  “For my back. It eases away the pains from the babe.” She put her hand over her swollen middle.

  “Does he disturb you often?” I stroked her hair away from her cheek

  “A little,” she admitted. Her eyes brightened. “It will not be long now.”

  “How soon?” I said.

  “We have a few weeks left before my waters spill. Time enough for you to begin your patterns.”

  Oh, how my joy overflowed!

  Each Bacchae bore a tattooed pattern across the back of their hands. My hands would be inked in cobalt, not intricate yet, but a symbol of my devotion to the temple. And best of all, my brother would soon arrive. I was so caught up in anticipation that I put the encounter with Aidne completely out of my mind.

  The following week, the priests announced that Mara, I, and several others would receive our first marks. It was a time of celebration. The older girls gossiped amongst themselves, speculating on whose would be the most intricate, whose would boast the finest shade of blue-black. As for me, I delighted in the fact my brother would soon be born.

  At last the day came for my marking ceremony. Even so, my mother was not allowed to set aside her chores to see me to the temple artisan. I was led outside the mountain’s protection to a small hut near the entrance to the temple. The frigid wind shocked the air from my lungs, and I staggered against the priest who led me away. It felt strange to breathe in air that did not reek of earth or humanity, to see the cold brittle sunlight of winter and hear the plaintive cries of birds above me. My senses reeled from the headiness of it all and from the excitement of being marked as the temple’s own.

  The hut was very small and leaned against the rocky mountainside, as a child will cleave to its mother. A very old man, an aged priest most likely, beckoned us out of the wind and frost. The temple guard sent me inside and announced he would return forthwith.

  “Come in, come in. Let me see.” The old man peered at me with eyes that seemed much too rheumy to be of use. He bade me sit in a high backed wooden chair.

  When I obeyed, he motioned for me to place my palms on the rough wooden table.

  “Fine, fine….” He studied the skin on the backs of my hands. “Well then, shall we begin? Don’t look so frightened, girl! It only stings a little.”

  I armed my nerves with his words and thought to make my mother proud. I was well on my way to becoming a Bacchae, to fulfilling my destiny…I would return, serene and triumphant and display my marks with pride. The priest lowered his instruments to my flesh. She would see I was worthy, that I was…I was…in pain!

  The priest had lied!

  My hands were on fire. And as soon as he’d pierced the back of one so often that I felt on the brink of fainting, he grabbed the other and began the same. The scratch of his needles seemed to dig clear to the bones of my hands. And oh, the blood that ran free beneath his fingers! He wiped it often to see the lines etched beneath the bloody skin.

  Scratch, scratch. Wipe, wipe. The cloth abraded my swollen flesh. And then, far worse, his fingers rubbed, smearing the blue-black powder into my veins, only to repeat again, a fraction to the side of the previous sore spot.

  Scratch, scratch. Wipe.

  “Steady, child,” the priest muttered, intent on his designs.

  Oh, the long, drawn out pain of it!

  I fa
ncied that I could see monsters howling and the very pits of the Underworld opening up to expose my flesh-stripped fingers. Tears pricked at my eyes like the needles in my flesh. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I wanted to wipe my sweating upper lip on the folds of my robe. My jaw ached from biting back screams of agony. And just when I felt darkness crowding at the edges of my vision, the priest spoke again.

  “You are finished. Such a difficult pattern I have not attempted for many years, but your skin was so pink and fine, I thought…Gods, are you ill? No? Well, there’s a good girl. Off with you.”

  He patted my hands with a wet cloth, revealing a lovely web of cobalt on my reddened swollen flesh. When I winced, he clucked his tongue. He wrapped my hands gingerly in linens and told me to give them time to heal.

  “They’ll give you herbs to take with your evening wine. Be careful you don’t overdo them, or you won’t wake for a week’s time, if you wake at all.”

  I stifled a sob and allowed him to lead me to the door. If I’d thought the frigid winter air uncomfortable before, it was now doubly so with sweat soaking my chiton. The chill was unbearable but the cold made my hands ache less.

  I went to my chamber and drank the herbed wine that was laid out for me. Then I lied down upon my pallet and waited for sleep to overcome my agony. The world went dim and my chamber seemed to spin behind my closed eyes. My stomach roiled and I thought I might be sick. And then I dreamt.

  I cannot remember now, how the dream started, save that I ran towards my father and someone held me back. I thought it might have been my mother, but when I turned to face her, there was no one there, only a flash of light. I heard a child’s laughter echoing through the mist, and then my own beloved father’s voice calling to me. The thunderous sound of the sea filled my ears, and then it became the sounds of a battle ringing through the tree branches. Father’s voice rang in my herb-clouded brain.

  “Dori,” he said. “My treasure!”