“I think this one,” he said at last. He held up a garment for me to try--one that bared my left breast and draped over my right with such pale, transparent pleats, it might as well be uncovered. If my figure was not so fine, I might have held some shame in wearing it.
The seller prattled on in a language unknown to me, but Charaxus seemed to understand him well enough. He laughed as I removed the gown, and scribed something on a sheet of very smelly fibers smashed to form a single mat that was far more pliable and lightweight than carved stone tablets. It was called papyrus. Well, miracle or not, it stunk! When he finished, the merchant rolled the dried papyrus with a nod. I was not sorry to leave.
We exited with the gown, which I could take no pleasure in, draped over Charaxus’ arm. Next was the jeweler’s stall. Again, he took unearthly care and time with his selection, until I was weary of standing and having all manner of bronze, copper, and polished stone beads draped over my neck and head.
“Charaxus,” I interrupted his conversation with the jeweler. “Master,” I said again, so he might know my displeasure. “I am weary from the sun and noise. I beg you, allow me to return, so I may better serve you in the hours of evening, when your need is most pressing.”
His cheeks paled. I wondered if I’d angered him.
“My apologies,” he directed to the merchant. “Your pardon, but I do not wish my delicate blossom to fade in this heat.”
The merchant made a gesture that could have been taken for assent or irritation, but in either case, Charaxus had no eyes for it.
“You should have told me you found the merchandise inferior,” he said when we’d quit the stall. “There are other places we might look.”
“There was no fault with the adornments. I am truly unwell.”
He compressed his lips, but took my arm with the utmost care, as if he might crush me in his gentle grasp. We moved towards the litter and he barked an order to return to the inn.
The Nubians leapt into position. They trotted with a languorous grace like the furry creatures that slunk around every corner and block of Egypt. Cats, the Egyptians called the creatures, and very much like them are the people from the south. I understood why the Egyptians have made a goddess out of the beast. I was a great admirer of beauty, myself.
I choked on the blowing dust, coughing and gulping air to clear my throat.
“Soon, now,” Charaxus said. He patted my hand. “By week’s end, you shall see the great city of Pharaoh.”
When we reached the inn, I had a long rest. Charaxus was most solicitous of me. He requested a variety of dishes, many of which were prepared in Greek fashion, I suppose to entice me. Well, for all that it was a faked illness, I was sick. Sick at heart. The food tasted like ash in my mouth.
“Forget the jewels, for now. We leave for Sais in the morning. The grandness of it will please you, I’m certain. Do not fear,” he whispered. “I will watch over you until morning.”
I thought of his plot to parade me in front of Pharaoh.
“I fear only the time when that will not be so.” I turned my back to him. It was the closest thing to truth that I could safely speak.
Chapter Fifteen
The palace of the Pharaoh in Sais was enormous. An expanse of limestone and porphyry, interlocking hallways led to the public rooms and, I supposed, to the Pharaoh’s more private residence. Columned porches allowed the breeze to sift through the interior, but sunlight seemed forbidden, for all that they worship the sun god, Ra. As we were escorted further into the palace, the sizzle and pop of torchlight reminded me of a Bacchae temple, for it was so cool and dark in the halls of Pharaoh’s inner sanctum that torches were lit, even in the daylight. Chill bumps raised on my flesh. No sun’s glow could warm the depths of the inner palace.
Charaxus patted me on the shoulder as we were escorted through the cool halls to where Pharaoh awaited us.
I’d spent the previous evening performing a private dance and creative seduction of my master, using the kelēs I’d learned at the temple many years ago. I’d hoped my efforts would endear me to him enough so he might keep me for his own and not sell me to the Egyptian king’s household. It did me no good, for in the morning, we dined and dressed and were ushered in to the Pharaoh’s hall.
Amasis, or Nesu Ahmose as Egyptians called him, kept many beautiful women, most of them inherited from his predecessor, the unlucky Apries. Charaxus smiled and assured me none could be as lovely as me--not even Ladice, who was herself a Grecian princess garnered from the Greek settlement of Cyrene in Libya.
It was rumored Ladice was so unattractive that Pharaoh could not perform his duties. Public sentiment named her a witch, but I could not believe a man as powerful as Pharaoh would tolerate a wife who was not comely. Surely, if my own master needed such assurances, the great god-king of Egypt would also. I hoped, for her sake, that she might have some features that bordered beauty. If Ladice wished to be the Great Wife of Pharaoh, she would do better to pray to her love goddess, the lusty Aphrodite, for the powers of seduction, then to emasculate him.
My station in life was due to the nature of my sex, more than anything else. But Charaxus was an easy man to please and most often was sated by my attention, rather than enthusiasm. After my years of drudgery, it was an easier life. I was satisfied to remain in his possession and not to be tossed to the whims of a cruel and barbarous foreigner. Besides, it would be an easier thing to earn my freedom from Charaxus, when he tired of me, than to live as concubine to an Egyptian king.
And that is what I most hoped to do.
Rumors of Persian invasions in the outermost edges of Egypt had reached us even here, in the tranquility of Sais. I thought back to Charaxus’ comments on the dock in Naukratis and worried for our future. Despite his calm exterior, I knew Charaxus was concerned, for if Egypt fell to Persian rule, his trade here could be finished. The Persians had their own sources of wine through dealings with the nomadic Canaanites, the Hittites, and the Babylonians. Perhaps he hoped to make me gift to Amasis to cement his position with the king who rose through the strength of his spear and who loved Grecian wine.
The servant led us to a large area, where visitors lounged in various stages of wait. The cavernous room was supported on all four sides by large carved stone pillars, quite unlike those from Greece. Bands of colored patterns painted at the ceiling level gave the illusion of even more height and the painted figures on each column depicted Egyptians in various activities. I suppose it gave the Pharaoh a sense of watching over his subjects. Or perhaps he thought the public would be more at ease amidst such bucolic art.
Well, I could not be less composed. Sweat trickled down my back despite the cool air.
We were not the only merchants to be invited. There were many gathered that day. We retreated to a far corner to bide our time until our names were called. There was a trader of grain, and two Ethiopians bearing speckled and striped animal skins such as I had never seen. They recognized Charaxus and hailed a greeting, eyeing me with curiosity. A few scribes took copious notes, sitting cross legged and using their stretched linen skirts as a surface to write on papyrus scrolls. Others my master did not know lounged in the empty corners--all of us awaiting the pleasure of the most powerful man in Egypt.
The floor was a combination of soft beige, ivory, and rose variegated porphyry imported from the quarries to the south, Charaxus pointed out. Clusters of small gilded and onyx couches were scattered about the room. Servants passed by a burbling fountain. Along the walls in alcoves, were several bronze or granite sculptures of unfamiliar Egyptian gods--some in the form of men, some animals, and some a frightening combination of both. I imagined them looking down on me with displeasure.
“Stop fidgeting, you’ll crease your gown.” Charaxus hissed at me.
He must be as nervous as I. Perhaps he worried his investment would not pay off. I did not wish to be sold, but I could not continue to clench my dress in my sweating palms under his disapproving gaze. I forced myself to b
e still.
One hour passed. Then another. I sighed. The tiny red grains of the Egyptian time keeper--the hourglass--filtered with agonizing slowness. In all that time, only the Ethiopians were called away. Two men began a quiet dispute over who’d arrived first. I eyed the two guards posted at the front of the room and feared the worst. Neither of them moved an inch, but another servant poked his head in and uttered something to one of them. The guard shook his head and the servant went away. I sighed again.
I’ve never been a patient creature. I was even less, now, with the threat of new ownership looming over my head like a spear poised to strike.
I tried to content myself with observing the other occupants, but they all seemed as agitated as I, except for an obese trader who slurped his wine noisily and waggled his eyebrows at me.
I focused on the guards. They were very alike, both with the smooth copper skin and generous lips of their race, and shaved heads. Their eyes were lined in black kohl and they wore a sort of tunic made of white linen, slightly coarser than my own. Neither wore any jewelry or adornment, though even cheap trinkets were available in the streets.
At last, Charaxus and I were summoned to the front. There was much grumbling, as many had yet to be called. I tried not to consider that Pharaoh might be more eager to see Charaxus’ offering than a cattle trader’s wares.
We were shown into a smaller private chamber, lavishly decorated with vivid painted designs in gold, red, and black bands. An elderly Egyptian man, who I could only assume was Pharaoh, steepled his fingers together on a small table cluttered with faience glass jars of cobalt and green. An open work collar of gold and precious stones circled his neck and rings gleamed in the torchlight on his hands. He tugged at his finely made, ill-fitting wig as we entered, and I noticed the hair was a much darker shade than this man’s eyebrows. He looked false. I smothered a wave of repulsion and fear.
I could tell, even from his seated position, I would tower over him. He was quite short in stature, with a slouched, craven posture like a stunted poplar trunk. I wondered how he’d gained much luck on the battle field. In Thrace, it had been a man’s height that gave him the opportunity to strike first. This man looked hardly capable of hefting his paring knife, let alone a spear or axe.
Beside his wrinkled fingers lay several rolled papyrus scrolls, hollow reeds, and slung over his shoulder was a round leather container of ink as red as the man’s carmined cheeks and lips. Comparatively, my current master was a demigod. Disgust filled me.
Charaxus bowed low. I knelt beside him and kept my eyes lowered.
“You may rise,” said our host.
Charaxus looked around expectantly. “Where is the Nesu, Rising Son of Neit?” he asked.
I gaped at him. This was not the mighty Pharaoh Amasis?
“Nesu Ahmose is away. I will hear your petition, today.” His gaze flickered towards me. “I am Neferenatu, the Nesu’s most trusted advisor.”
“Great Vizier,” Charaxus bowed again. “I have journeyed from Greece to bring wine to the table of the great Pharaoh, may it please him.”
Neferenatu inclined his head a fraction, his eyes still not leaving me. “You are not unknown to us, Charaxus of Mytilene. We have heard of the quality of wine you carry, and its taste is palatable to our…beloved ruler.”
He lifted the reed and made to mark on the scroll in front of him. I speculated on the importance of his pause. His eyes slid from me to Charaxus and back to me.
“How much?” Neferenatu asked.
Charaxus blinked, clearly at a loss. The garish red color of the walls blossomed in his cheeks. I breathed deeply to calm my racing heart.
“I asked ‘how much’. How much wine have you brought with you to sell?” The Vizier tapped the reed against his yellowed teeth.
Charaxus recovered and answered.
“It is not enough,” said the Vizier, marking on the papyrus. “We must have at least twice that amount, and before the next season’s festival. Leave us what you have now and bring the rest.”
“That is quite a sum to bring all the way from Lesbos. I do not know if it can be done before the Inundation.” Charaxus stroked his chin. “The ship will be much laden down with the weight of the wine. And great Nesu has never requested so much, not even in the days of his military doings.”
“Such discussion is unseemly. Sell what we require or take your business elsewhere.” The Vizier signaled to the servant at the door, who disappeared. Our audience was clearly coming to an end.
“Hold,” Charaxus called out anxiously. “If it be the will of Nesu, I will bring the rest. But you must agree to settle on a price now and advance me for the portion I leave behind.”
“You do not trust my word?” Neferenatu’s face darkened like a thundercloud.
Charaxus threw his hands up in protest. He was clearly being forced into a position he did not like. “I have taken a house here in the city, and I have some debts.” His eyes flickered towards me. “I trust your word and the words of any man so beloved by the Nesu. But I do not have the coin I need to transport such a large amount of wine from Lesbos. I will need a portion of it before sealing the agreement.”
“Very well,” said the Vizier, sitting back on his stool. They agreed upon a price, and Charaxus seemed pleased by the offer. A great chest was brought forth by two slaves. Neferenatu’s eyes rested again on me as he weighed out the portion of gold ingots demanded by Charaxus. I could tell my master was satisfied, which made my heart lighter. I smiled at the wrinkled vizier, blessing my good fortune for I’d thought Charaxus meant to sell me.
Neferenatu closed the chest with an expression I could not read. His hand paused upon the lid. “Give me the girl and I shall double this amount,” he said, as if in passing. “She is yours?”
My smile froze.
“She is,” Charaxus answered. “I brought her anticipating audience with Nesu Ahmose. She is an exceptionally fine dancer.” He signaled and I dutifully rose from my kneeling and assumed a ready stance for dancing.
Grand Vizier Neferenatu called for music, and within moments, drums and whistles were brought. I took a few shaky breaths before forming my body to the steps that I knew would impress him. Though Charaxus shone with pride, the leathery vizier’s face remained as blank as sandstone. Well, perhaps he was just too old to be much moved, by the sight of me. Still, I was glad for his perceived sour displeasure, until the audience was ended.
“Oo-yay.” The vizier tipped his chin. “A fine dancer, indeed. You could erase most of your debts with her. So? Sell her to me along with your fine wine. You can pick up another woman when you return to Lesbos.”
I drew a sharp breath.
Charaxus rested his hand on my shoulder. “I thank you for your offer, but I must refuse.”
“That seems unwise.” Neferenatu’s lips firmed, but Charaxus did not amend his rebuff. “So, then. As you wish.” The vizier dismissed us with a curt lift of his chin.
We left in somewhat of a hurry. I rejoiced that I would not be sold today, especially to the leathery vizier. How easily Charaxus could have used me to gain the royal advisor’s favor. And yet, surprisingly, he did not.
I stumbled through the rest of the afternoon in a state of amazement. That night I made love to Charaxus with such fervor he promised to bring me back a special gift from Naukratis. If he did not guess at my reasons for being so passionate, I would not tell him.
*** ***
As the sun broke the next morning a flurry of preparations were made for Charaxus’ journey back to Lesbos. Missives had to be sent to his wife and daughters to prepare them for his arrival, for it would take weeks just to send word. He had to secure transport to Naukratis, where he would then hire the vessel and crew that could haul a large quantity of wine back to Egypt. All would take time, and time was not a luxury Charaxus could afford.
“I must move quickly to capitalize on this sale, Petal. The whims of Egyptian nobility are as changeable as the sands. With the speed require
d to make it back before the festival, much of the wine may need transport over land, rather than by barge. It will be a rough journey.” Charaxus finished rubbing his teeth with a small horsehair brush with an ivory handle.
“How long will it take?” I asked, signaling one of the slaves to bring me Charaxus’ satchel. Much I desired to return home to Greece, I loathed sea travel.
Charaxus sighed. “A day or two to Naukratis. Then a few weeks to get passage back to Lesbos. After that, I don’t know. Who can say if the quantity Pharaoh requires can be bought at this time of year? It will be months, at the very least.”
Months, I thought. And what was to become of me?
“Am I to go with you?” I packed the last of his belongings.
Charaxus thought for a moment. “Such a journey will not be short, nor pleasurable. And I wish only to give you pleasures. Best that you stay here and mind my household, safely away from the clutches of those who would steal you away.”
“Oh, please let me come,” I begged. I did not want to be left alone in a strange land. What if he should never return? Travel was difficult even in the best of places, and Charaxus was certainly not a young man. “I could wait for you in Naukratis if there is no room for me aboard the ship to Lesbos.”
“What has gotten into you, Petal?” He rubbed his chin. “No,” he decided. “I dare not leave you in the port city unprotected. There has been talk of trouble, especially with the damned Persians sending emissaries every other week between Egypt and Greece. Besides, some wiser man than I could capture you and sell you off for a fortune, instead of spending one to keep you.”
I paused. My fingers quivered on the knot of the satchel.
“But you were planning to sell me yourself.” I straightened and faced him. “To Pharaoh.”
HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods Page 18