I was about to abandon my wait and seek out Charaxus for myself, when he appeared in the doorway. His eyes burned and the hair stood out on my arms.
“Tell me,” he said softly. I could not face him. “Tell me the truth, now. I would hear it from your own tongue.” He moved towards me and trailed a finger over my love-swollen mouth. “Your own…lying…tongue.”
I began to cry again, this time out of fear. “Please,” I whispered. “Please.”
He drew his hand back and slapped me full across the face. I fell to the ground. Shock raced through me, but I did not feel the pain of his blow.
He’d never struck me before. Never.
“Charaxus, master…please,” I sobbed. “I never meant to…to hurt you. He was a boy, just a boy. I did not lie with him. I’ll never shame you again, I swear.”
He yanked me to my feet by my hair. Pain singed my scalp, a thousand needles of flame. He released my hair with such force I stumbled backwards against the wall. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me brutally.
“How could you? I gave you everything! Everything!” And he shook me harder. I cracked my head on the mud bricks. My vision wavered. “You were mine to do with as I pleased. How could you dishonor me, dishonor my household, in such a way?”
“I’m so-or-ry. Charaxus, please. Forgive me.” I put my hands up and tried to protect myself, but he struck me again.
His open palm slammed against the side of my face. Blood gushed from my left nostril and I fell to the floor. I curled into a ball and waited for the next barrage of blows.
“Aaagh!” He whirled away from me and upended an inlaid chest, spilling my cosmetic tray to the floor. “Why?”
I cowered as he yanked my polished bronze mirror from the stand and smashed it atop the corner of the chest. The bronze disc crumpled, distorting the image of my fearful face. He tossed it aside.
“Why, Petal, why?” Charaxus raked his hands through his hair. He staggered towards me.
I feared another blow, and shrank in fear, but he knelt instead and cupped my bruised chin in his hands.
“Why?” he asked again, softly. His eyes raged.
“I…I thought he loved me. He said he did.”
Charaxus flinched as if I’d struck him.
“I loved you.” He sat back and put his hand over his eyes. “Wasn’t that enough?”
Words formed for the emotions I’d kept bottled inside me for years.
“You own me. I am accustomed to lying with you because it is my duty. No, it was not enough. It was never love.”
Charaxus wiped his nose with the back of his forearm. I flinched as he reached out to help me stand, but his touch was gentle once more.
“And today?” he asked quietly. “In the pool? What of that?”
I thought for a moment. “As you said. I am your woman to do with as you please.”
Charaxus’ face turned red. “You sound like a whore.”
“I am your slave. If I sound a whore, then you have made me into one.”
He paused. His chest heaved from the force of his exertions. Then he took me by the elbow roughly. “So be it.”
He led me none too gently into the hall and called for papyrus, reed and ink. Rada brought it to him with a satisfied smirk. She made a rude gesture to me behind his back as she left.
“If merely speaking words of love was the key to opening your heart, I could have saved myself much time and effort.” He pushed me roughly onto a stool while he wrote. “You imprudent girl, have you not learned how words can lie? No, no…you have not yet. But I will show you truth. In this last thing, I shall yet be your master.”
His hands shook as lines of crabbed hurried script materialized on the papyrus like scorpion’s marks in the sand. When he had finished, he blew on the scroll and turned it for me to read. There was a passage in Greek and one in hieroglyphs.
“Be it known to all from this day hence,” I read aloud, “the slave girl, Doricha, is a slave no longer. She is freed by Charaxus of Mytilene, who loved her.”
I stared at him.
His eyes were terrible to behold. “You are free, Doricha. For love of you, I offer your freedom. But for the shame of what you have done, I disown you. I want you out of my sight. I will no longer be responsible for you or your debts.”
Just like that, I was no longer a slave.
I was free.
“Get out.” He stood and turned away from me. “Go find this man. Perhaps he will have you now. You will find out soon enough how much freedom costs.”
I stood. My legs trembled so badly I did not think they would hold me. I feared what words I might say, so I kept my jaw clenched tight. I reached for the papyrus from his limp fingers. His eyes dared me to take it. He let the scroll fall before I could take it and it fell to the ground.
I dropped to my knees, scooping the precious scroll and clutching it to my chest.
I was free.
Charaxus did not look at me as I left.
I packed only a few things including the hetaera’s peplos--it was so tattered it was scarcely suitable to carry my few unbroken cosmetic jars and some trinkets, but I kept it. It was a healthy reminder I should never trust on the attentions or generosity of a man.
I looked once more at the cedar chests of fine Egyptian linens, the scented unguents, and the adornments Charaxus purchased me. Then I closed the lids, and shouldered my small pack. I would take as little of his gifts as I dared.
I kissed Ankh and stroked his soft fur one last time. He scampered after a loose feather without so much as a final ‘Mrrrow’ to bid me goodbye. Beautiful, fickle creature. He was just like Hori. I would never trust such soft beauty again.
The belled, rose-gold slippers, I left sitting in the middle of my chamber, a terrible reminder of following blindly the shame of my passion. My heart still ached at Hori’s betrayal, but I forced myself to swallow the pain. For I vowed, I would need no one.
I shouldered my small pack, filled with only the essentials by which I would start my new life—a few trinkets, some of my cosmetics, and a linen wrap. When I was halfway down the street, someone called my name. Rada huffed and puffed after me. With a sharp motion, she thrust the jingling slippers into my hands.
“Here,” she said brusquely. “Do not forget these! Take them so all the world will know, ‘Here comes the whore!’” Then she spat on my bruised, swollen cheek and sauntered away.
I wiped her spittle away and felt better than I had in years.
I was free.
Chapter Nineteen
I was free! As dawn broke, I ran to the marketplace with wings on my feet. Perhaps Hori would allow me to sell back the slippers for coin to send me home to Greece. At last, I was my own woman again. I wanted to see his face when he discovered I was no longer a slave to any man.
When I turned the corner to his workshop, there was no activity. No sounds of scraping or hammering, no clatter as he worked. Curious, I peered inside. The room was dark and empty. Gone were the bench and tools. Gone were the unused supplies laid neatly in rows. Gone even, was the effigy of Ptah from his alcove. The faint scent of beer clung to the air, but the workshop was dead.
“Where is he?” I asked the man in the nearest stall.
He shrugged. “Gone.” His eyes returned to his work. “Yesterday.”
So, Hori had disappeared last evening while I’d cried out the ache in my soul to an unmoved goddess. I didn’t know what to think. Hori had vanished as surely as his affection for me. I had neither the desire nor the means to follow. In fact, I had nowhere to go at all. I was alone in a strange land with little money and even less understanding.
I trudged between the market stalls for hours. As the sun crept across the sky, my mood lifted. I’d no coin, but at least I could go where I wished, do what I liked, and speak to whomever I pleased. After years of slavery, I’d achieved my father’s dying wish. My life was again my own. The familiar sounds of traders hawking their wares, the babble of heated conversation, eve
n the buzz of the insects seemed alive and gay. I breathed deeply, inhaling spices and sweat and dust with lusty joy. I was free.
But when the sun reached its zenith and the flies became unbearable, my mind turned away from my freedom to a much more pressing concern.
I should leave this city, I thought. I will go home to Thrace. But how to get there with little to barter for passage?
My stomach rumbled. I’d no food, no shelter, and only the clothes on my back. I had little to barter with other than some cosmetic pots, a few trinkets, and my rose-gold slippers, all carefully hidden in my knotted peplos. Why had I not thought to take more?
I should trade my cursed slippers for something more useful. But when I pulled out Hori’s treasures to barter for some dried fish and figs, my heart seized in my chest. I could not give up my slippers, yet. Such a treasure would be worth far more than sustenance; it would be the means to deliver me home. I needed them to buy my passage back to Greece.
Where to go now?
A rising chant emanated from the temple, rising over the noise of the marketplace. It mingled with the rising joy in my heart. Despite my guilt over having shamed Charaxus, I owed the gods my thanks, so I went to the temple to pray. Charaxus had told me Egypt was the mother of all religions, I felt certain I would be welcome. Perhaps not in the innermost sanctuary where only the most influential and devout were allowed, but a courtyard would suffice. Surely my Lady would find me here and guide my footsteps. How long had it been since I’d made an offering to her? I do not think the goddess could live on dreams alone.
I traded away my pot of rouge for three long, thorny stems of white roses. Market stalls closed for the afternoon as I passed. I could only hope there would be few penitents at the temple, for I was uncertain of how I’d be received, especially without the influential Charaxus beside me.
Wearily, I drifted into the temple. Few Egyptians paced the inner courtyard. None of their attire was particularly fine, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I would be less noticeable, as the upper echelons I’d traversed at Charaxus’ side would have worshipped in the morning, long before the day’s tasks began.
The lesser priests and scribes’ dark kohl rimmed gazes passed over me with lingering interest and more than a little curiosity, despite their vows of celibacy. I could not tell if it was my foreign features or my bruised cheeks that gave them pause. The chief priest, denoted by a spotted animal fur, directed the others to separate the offerings for purification in a line of wide ceremonial vessels. A scribe made a tally mark on papyrus and when the lot was finished, he rolled it up and dropped it into a huge alabaster jar. Such vessels are used by Pharaoh to make an accounting of offerings; I’d seen them in the temple many times.
I handed the priest my three twined roses and his brow furrowed. I suppose my offering seemed odd compared to the usual wine, emmer wheat, and lotus blossoms. The sun gleamed off the priest’s shaved head, reminding me of Hori and I averted my gaze.
The priest purified the pile of offerings in a large grey calcite bowl of water. He waved the other supplicants inside, but when I rose to follow, he shook his head.
“I wish to pray,” I said in halting Egyptian.
He scowled and stalked into the shaded overhang, leaving me with the remaining two priests and a scribe who tallied the offerings. I caught one of the priests staring at me. He saw me looking and ducked his head.
I had to get into the temple. I’d been allowed inside before, when we came with some of the wealthier patrons. And I was no less humbly dressed than others who came in after me. Well, if they would not let me pray here, I would not leave my offering. So much for Charaxus’ theory that all nations are welcome in Egypt. If I did not fear his revoking my freedom, I should march back and tell him so.
I moved to take back my roses, when a warm hand covered mine. It was the same priest who’d sneaked looks at me. He shook his head at me, motioning for me to take the roses and follow him. My heart thumped in my chest, but I followed him as he meandered towards a small side garden, nearly hidden by the outer wall of the temple complex. He turned the corner much quicker than I, and when I followed hard on his heels, I nearly ran into the back of him.
He faced me and grasped my shoulders to keep me from stumbling backwards. Then he put a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. Would he lead me into the temple in secret? When the priest checked over my shoulder once more, he pointed to an alcove against the side of the temple. In the alcove was a small bronze statue of a goddess. I whispered my thanks.
The effigy was the warrior goddess who protected this city--Neit. I hoped my Lady would not be offended.
Lady, if it be your will, remember me, your lost flower. I am dying here in this unforgiving desert. I give myself to you…I give myself to your will.
I pressed my head against the rough plastered mud brick and extended my arms, prostrate before her. Moments passed, but I neither heard nor felt anything, save for the tickle of insects when they landed on me. I raised my head and glanced back into the courtyard. The priests and scribes and supplicants had disappeared. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and resumed my prayers. For long moments I waited for my Lady to speak, but no sparrow called, no dove cooed. Perhaps she could not find me here? I prepared to leave, but I did not know where to go.
Voices murmured in the courtyard. One in particular sounded familiar. I stood and brushed the grit from my skin. Peeping around the corner, I saw Isesi’s wife emerge from the second hall of the temple. None of her daughters were present, but two slaves carried loaves of bread, an amphorae, and lotus flowers--offerings for the goddess.
“Wakheptry,” I called as she passed me in the temple courtyard.
She started and turned at the sound of my voice. “Greetings, Doricha.” She scanned the crowded courtyard and she tipped her chin at the tattered peplos knotted to hold all my possessions. “Where is Charaxus? Have you brought offerings to Neit?”
I licked my parched lips. “I am alone, today.” I stepped out of the shadows of the courtyard wall.
“Light of Ra, what happened to your face?”
“I…I was attacked.” It was hard to force the words out of my dry mouth. I did not want to lie to Wakheptry if I could avoid it--I did not think it right.
“Come with me.” She took my arm and led me to her home, which was not far from the temple.
When we reached the home of Isesi, Wakheptry called for sesame bread, honey spiced with cumin and, bless her, beer. I was so parched, I did not even care that she did not offer me wine.
I placed my bundled peplos on the ground and drank the cup of beer while Wakheptry’s servants cleaned my cuts and put a cool wet cloth on my cheek. All the while, she muttered about thieves and murderers roaming the streets.
“I pray they will be caught.” Wakheptry’s eyes flashed. “Isesi says that Nesu Ahmose will tolerate no man’s attack on property, but as he himself was once a….” She stopped and gave me an odd look.
I waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. “What does Isesi say?” I asked, wondering what a scribe would have to say about thieves and murderers.
“Nothing.” She fanned her hands in front of her face. “It is nothing. Here, let me pour you some more beer.”
“Neit’s Blessings upon you. It was fortunate for me that you brought a late offering to the temple.” For nobility usually preferred to be the first in their adulations.
We made small talk for a while, until my head began to swim from the heat and the beer in my empty stomach.
“Poor girl.” Wakheptry clucked her tongue. “Why don’t you rest? The Greek will not be pleased if I let you wither away before he returns.”
She meant well, but her words curdled my stomach. I hated to accept her kindness under false pretense, but I forced myself to agree. Besides, I was overtired from the day’s activities. If Wakheptry wished me to rest here, it would be rude to depart now. At least not until the scandal of my freedom had reached her stratum of society.
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I rested for a few hours in the shade of a huge pomegranate tree in her courtyard. The slaves brought us a plate of figs and palm dates. I watched fish swim to and fro in the pool, while her slaves fanned me and she directed her two eldest daughters to dance for me.
“They are not so fine at dance as you, of course,” Wakheptry said with a sigh.
“Nonsense. They are perfectly lovely.” I popped a date into my mouth. Wakheptry smiled broadly and poured me another cup of beer.
The heat of the day began to ebb. As the sky leached of color, Wakheptry called for the evening meal preparations and my nervousness grew. What if Isesi should have heard of my disgrace and found me here with his wife? I knew very little of Egyptian customs, but I was certain that disgrace would be punished, no matter the local customs.
“Wakheptry,” I called, moving aside my emptied plate. “I am well, now. I-I should return. The others will be worried.”
Wakheptry patted my arm and escorted me to the door. And while she protested, I thought she might have been relieved. “Let us meet again soon. I shall ask Isesi to give another feast in your Greek’s honor.”
I managed a weak smile, shouldered my peplos and fled from her house of comfort.
Dusk fell. All around me market traders wearily packed away their goods. Some called out as I passed, hoping for a last minute barter. Little did they know I had nothing to give, without the benefit of Charaxus’ deep coffers.
I wandered until it grew difficult to see. The streets were eerily quiet now the din of the crowds had subsided. The Nile lapped at the banks and splashed against the stone jetty. I slipped from alley to alley, feeling like a shade from Hades. At last, with no one to say ‘nay’, I crept into Hori’s abandoned workshop and crawled into a ball on the floor for the night.
The workshop was musty with old memories. I could still smell the scent of spice, cedar shavings, and beer lingering on the air. Tears formed behind my eyelids. When I opened them, I saw the moonlight streaming in through the high slatted windows. It turned the dust to stars.
HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods Page 22