HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods

by Coffey, J. A.

  “Oh…oh!” Ladice’s cheeks flushed. “I cannot bear to be alone in my sorrow. Can you not stay with me?”

  “I am sorry, Princess.” I tried to be gentle, to spare her feelings. “Pharaoh has summoned.”

  Ladice ducked her head and shot a wistful glance at my near sister.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Stay, Mara, if you wish. You can escort me home later.”

  Mara gave Ladice a shy smile, and I slipped gratefully away from the Princess’ cloying presence, feeling only a little guilty at offering my near sister as a substitute. It was my fault that Aesop perished. My skin prickled all over, as if I were about to weep. I willed my eyes to stay dry until after I’d met Amasis.

  After following my escort through the palace, I found him in his outer chambers. He was dressed casually, without his headdress or wig. His cropped hair gleamed as if it had just been oiled and the scent of sweet almond and exotic sandalwood hung in the air. I hesitated, for thus far I had only seen the formal side of Pharaoh. Here was little more than a common man before me, and yet I found myself breathing deeply as if I could ingest the very sight of him.

  “You are late,” he observed, taking the draughts from the tiny drawer of the game box. “I expected you much earlier.” His smile glinted at me from the dark copper of his skin, taking the sting from his rebuke. “Now, you will have to work twice as hard to please me.”

  “I…I am sorry.” My nerves were a jangled mess. I did not make a proper obeisance.

  For though my heart lurched at the sight of him, I could not withstand the guilt of Aesop’s death. I needed to make an offering to the gods on behalf of Aesop’s shade so that he could travel to the Underworld in peace. It was my fault he’d died, my burden to bear across the cold seas to Delphi.

  Amasis set down the draughts and strode towards me. “You are troubled. I can see it in your face and the set of your shoulders. What is it?”

  “Aesop the Fabulist is dead.” I withered inside, just speaking the words aloud. I’d always thought my dear friend would return to me someday.

  “Ah, I have heard of him.” Amasis said. He stared at the ground for a long moment. “You knew him? Loved him?”

  If only I had! “As a brother. He was a true friend to me when I needed him and now Delphi has killed him.” If only I hadn’t chased Aesop out of Egypt.

  Amasis put a warm hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry for you, Rhodopis.” He called a servant. “Let me send an offering to Delphi on your behalf. He was a great man.”

  Aesop was a great man, the best of them. Custom bade someone to make an offering to the gods--to appease the shade of Aesop’s murdered soul. And he had no family to speak of, save for me, his Little Crab.

  “No, please, Great One.” I walked a few steps away from him. “I wish to do this myself.” I expected him to insist on his own way, but he let me slip from his touch without comment. “I…I beg you to dismiss me from Sais, if only for a short time. I must appease Aesop’s spirit.”

  He paused, and then nodded once. “You must go, of course. Will you return in time for the Planting Festival? There is something I would discuss with you…well, I cannot say it now when your heart is heavy with the loss of your friend. Will you come back to Sais for the Festival?”

  The Planting Festival was only a few weeks away. I intended to sail to Delphi myself, to make peace with Aesop’s memory, even if the Delphinians would not.

  “I will try.” I managed a weak smile.

  “Then I will try to be patient until I see you next.” He scooped the draughts and dumped them back into their drawer. “Not so easy a task, I assure you.” And he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.

  I was so startled I did not think to play the flirt with him as I ought.

  How strange to think that even in my grief, I could be unsettled by him. Feeling somewhat dazed, I followed my escort to Mara and told her of my plan to sail for Delphi.

  I did not tell her Amasis kissed me.

  Instead, I listened to Mara prattle on about Ladice’s menagerie of animals, her gazelles, her exotic birds and her fine spotted cats.

  “You are very quiet,” Mara commented as we left the palace. “Amasis took your news well? He was not angry with you for asking to leave Sais?”

  “As well as he could. No, he was not angry.” I thought of the feel of his lips on my skin and my legs trembled all the way home.

  I would sail to Naukratis without my near sister by the week’s end. Amasis would never consent to me leaving my Saisian home completely, so I asked her to watch over my affairs until my return. Mara protested at being left behind, but when Ladice sent a messenger inviting her to visit at the palace, she ceased her dogged arguments and acquiesced.

  As our flat reed skiff caught the current upstream, I tried to think of a worthy tribute to Aesop’s memory. There were the usual offerings of animals or grain. Perhaps I could send some spices? No…though costly and rare, none of that seemed appropriate for my friend and mentor. I needed a tribute that would placate his shade and appease the wrath of the gods or he would not be free to walk the Elysian Fields. I wanted him to find a place in the highest level of the Underworld. But what to give? There was a temple to Athena in Delphi, the goddess of wisdom…well, something for the temple, perhaps….

  Once we landed in Naukratis, I had my answer. A pair of sacred cows was unloaded onto the quay while I waited and watched from my barge. They were magnificent creatures, each as high as the shoulder of the herder leading them to the temple for sacrifice. I would not send cows, but the very implement to offer their flesh to the gods. The sun’s rays gleamed on their immense bodies as if Ra approved of my decision. I would give Athena the means to accept the finest sacred beasts Delphi could secure.

  When my boat docked, I procured a litter to bear me home, surprised at the number of people who stopped their work and bowed as I passed. I’d been gone almost half a year, how could they still know me? I suppose my finery led them to believe that I was royalty. I was curious to know what had happened in Naukratis while I was away. More faces bore Grecian features than I remembered. The sight of them made me homesick.

  Zahouri greeted me with marked enthusiasm, eager to show off how well he’d kept my home and chattel. He’d done more than a decent job. Everything was as tidy and well-kept as if I’d still lived there. Even Kyky, my monkey, was content to perch on my shoulder and chatter and scold me until I kissed his head and fed him honeyed dates.

  Before I unpacked my satchel, I ordered Zahouri to send a tenth of my wealth to the forges. I wished to finance a group of rare beef spits--huge iron rods capable of spearing the carcass of an entire cow--to send to the Temple of Athena. They were both expensive and unusual. I did not know how many of them there were, nor did I care. It was enough that they would be a remarkable offering to honor a remarkable man.

  Zahouri bowed and swore that all would be done to my specifications. I asked him to send in a servant with some wine before he left, while I reviewed my accounts. Sometime after the wine arrived, I looked up to find Zahouri had returned and skulked outside in the late afternoon shadows of the hall. I’d worked much later than I’d intended.

  “Yes, Zahouri? What is it?” I blotted the ink on my papyrus scroll. My eyes strayed out the window to the curling leaves on my white climbing rose. He’d done a fair job running my household while I was away, but my garden was sorely in need of my attention.

  “Naukratis has mourned your absence, great Mistress. There has been speculation that you would not return to us.”

  “Ridiculous. Who would make such a false statement?” I reached for the cap to my ink pot. “This will always be my home.”

  Zahouri licked his lips. “There have been many ships coming in, now that the Nile swells its banks and Nesu Ahmose has given Naukratis over to the Greeks for settlement. Ships that report Persia prepares for invasion.”

  So, he’d followed my advice, and allowed the Greeks dominion over that which t
hey already held. I wondered what Neferenatu, the Grand Vizier, had thought of that.

  “What does this have to do with me? Nesu is a skilled soldier. His troops are loyal.” War was a bad business, even for courtesans to the king.

  “It is said in the streets that Nesu must make a strong show to the barbarians. He must choose a Great Wife and forge an alliance that will unify our defenses against this Kourosh of Persia. The royal houses must be united to withstand.” Zahouri stroked his chin.

  “True. But such is outside of my concerns just now. I do not have the heart to set your mind at ease over which of the royal princesses will be suitable.”

  Zahouri huffed through his lips, clearly agitated that I did not agree. He waited for me to finish, with a patience that only a former slave could have. Still, Zahouri was a loyal servant. He seemed so earnest; I could not bring myself to insult his reasoning.

  “Here.” I gave him my mark to secure passage to Delphi. “Find me a ship. I promised Nesu I would try to return by the Planting Festival.”

  Zahouri shook his head, but took the papyrus from me. “It is good that you follow the will of Nesu Ahmose. But it will take you almost that long just to sail to Delphi, to say nothing of the wait for the iron spits. You will not make it there and back in time, unless the gods themselves fly you there.”

  “Then you’d best make haste, Zahouri. I do not know if Ra’s arms can stretch all the way to Delphi, but we’d best try.”

  *** ***

  As soon as the iron spits were forged and ready, I sailed from Naukratis to Delphi--to the temple of Athena that stood there. The journey took us almost twelve days. The seas were rough and wicked. I must admit that I did not live up to my reputation as a famed temptress on that journey. When I was not sicking up my bread and beer over the side, I was huddled morosely at the mast, feeling cold and miserable. I wondered, quite uncharitably, if Mara enjoyed herself at Ladice’s palace in my absence.

  Love is a complicated and demanding mistress. Each time I thought I’d earned her notice, she saw fit to toss me to the wolves. Charaxus and Aesop had loved me, but Hori had not. I’d thought Mara loved me well, but she seemed distant as of late and determined to mother me as she had in the temple. Well, I was not a naive girl anymore. I had no illusions that Amasis might love me. He’d done no more than ask advice on matters which I’m sure he could have reasoned out for himself and offer me a chaste kiss. I rested my face in my arms and wondered when my life had become such a tangled skein of emotions.

  For I could not fathom what might be wrong with me that Amasis did not wish to love me. I realized now that I more than desired him.

  “Mistress?” The captain touched my shoulder.

  I blinked back the tears that stung my eyes and lifted my head from my arms. “Yes, what is it?” Could he not see I wished to be alone?

  “We reach Delphi by morning.”

  At last, Aesop would have his restitution, and I would be the one to pay it.

  “Thank you,” I said grateful for the knowledge. “I will go below and try to rest.”

  I tossed and turned fitfully on my rocking cot. One of my attendants brought me a measure of watered wine and a lotus petal to chew. My stomach settled and I drifted into a lethargic daze. At last, I closed my eyes to the swaying cabin. My ears felt stuffed with wool and my tongue seemed too swollen for my mouth.

  I dreamed of my white climbing rose.

  You have not tended me, it said. Its thorny branches quivered, and a few blackened leaves fluttered to the sandy earth.

  I don’t know why I was not more surprised that a rosebush should speak to me. Its voice was sweet and reedy, like the trill of pipes or birdsong.

  “I am here, now.” I touched a fingertip to one of the twisted brown branches. It felt warm and alive beneath my fingers.

  “But is it enough?” It was the voice of my Lady. She sat beneath an olive tree, and sweet olive blossoms drifted down like snow around her face. “It seems a shame not to work such fertile soil.” She gestured to my dying rose.

  I was filled with a sudden anger. Why should such a lovely thing die, neglected and uncared for? Who had left it in such a sorry state?

  I took a trowel and worked furiously at the earth beneath the splayed branches, content to feel the sun upon my shoulders and the earth in my hands. I yanked away the choking weeds that crowded the stems. When I finished, I set my trowel aside and discovered an amphora of water beside me. I sprinkled the glistening drops over the soil. I swore I could feel the roots take hold beneath the earth, and saw fresh, green shoots sprout from the gnarled and twisted stem above.

  “See,” cooed my Lady. “All that was needed was a little care.” I heard the flap of wings behind me and turned but she was gone.

  The flap of wings turned to sharp rapping of hands on wood.

  “My Lady,” called the ship’s captain. “My Lady? We have arrived.”

  *** ***

  With great trepidation, I stepped off the ship with my entourage of servants, my two personal guards, and Kyky the monkey perched on my shoulders. The entire city had been rocked by an immense earthquake just a week prior. I was shocked by how rocky and pale Greece seemed, after years spent in the warm, vibrant company of the desert. Even the air smelled different.

  It was no longer home.

  The people were worn and tired. Despite the exotic luxury of my entourage, they stared dully at my finery, my servants, and the huge stack of iron spits piled on the docks. We made the journey from the docks up the winding hillside to where the city hovered near the foothills of the Phædriades.

  “Have you come to save us?” asked a decrepit old man crouched in rags near what should have been the agora. The courtyard was nothing more than a pile of scorched rubble and broken timber. I wondered if he had joined the crowds that tossed Aesop to his doom.

  “I come to make an offering.” I forced away my righteous anger, for surely there were innocents within the devastated city. “You must save yourselves.”

  The citizens feared the gods’ retribution after the first of the plagues, so they’d gathered up Aesop’s corpse and sent his spirit to the sea with an honor procession that wound down every path of the mountain. They’d placed him on a funeral bier and set it aflame as it sank into the sea. The very sea now littered with Croesus’ coins.

  Nevertheless, I hired a guide to take me to the spot where Aesop died. It took a good deal more gold than I thought, for they considered the spot cursed. Still, wealth will always have its way, and in the end, I stood at the cliff where Aesop had been tossed to his death. We wound up the jagged cliffs near the Castalian Spring where supplicants once bathed. I knew my friend had met his death on these sharp stones nearest the pool, so I did not offer such tribute to the gods.

  I closed my eyes. Aesop rested with Poseidon, now. My wise and dear friend. Did he entertain the gods? Could he see me?

  “Higher,” I told our guide. “I want to go higher.

  We hiked between the two highest peaks, until I reached almost the summit of the highest, Hyampeia. My days of climbing mountains had ended many years ago and I found myself laboring for breath. I was no longer a young woman, but a woman past her prime. I should have had a fine husband and babes, by now. Had it been my goddess’ promise or the silphium that tainted my womb? I could not say.

  The fact that I’d never conceived had never been a concern—certainly not in my profession. But I found the riches and luxury of my freedom hollow compared to the warmth of a husband’s embrace and the laughter of a child. In my youth and arrogance, I traded away the greatest gift of the gods—the immortality of seeing one’s children and grandchildren grow and prosper. What man would want a barren woman? Not even my famed beauty could diminish the power of a fertile woman.

  For all that Aesop sang my praises and all that I was reported to be clever, in the end, I was nothing more than a fool. A slave to my passions, as Mara had cautioned me.

  At last we reached the summit. I
ventured near the edge of the precipice and peered down at the pool, only a glittering flash of silver from this distance.

  Egyptians fear to travel, for they believe to die on foreign soil precludes them from the Great Afterlife. They say that Ra floats along the Nile bottom to collect those who have drowned and promises them a place at his table. We were not in Egypt, and Delphi was not the spot of Aesop’s birth, but still I murmured a prayer in Egyptian, in case the Sun God was listening.

  A bit of gravel skittered off my sandal as I rose. It scattered into the spring below.

  “Please, Lady. Come away. Do not stand so near the edge.” My guide shifted nervously from foot to foot.

  “I do not fear this place.” I raised my arms and did a little dance, just to show him. How Aesop loved to see me dance! I felt the warmth of the sun shining on my cheeks as I twirled.

  I swear I heard Aesop’s laughter rustling in the wind.

  Little Flower, cried the wind. Little Crab.

  The guide backed away from the edge and me, his eyes round with fear in his pale face. No doubt he thought me mad.

  I sighed and dropped my arms. “Let us go. It is almost time for the ceremony.”

  After we climbed back down the mount, I heard that another had come to Delphi on Aesop’s behalf. The city reported that Iadmon of Samos had arrived to claim restitution from the people of Delphi. My heart nigh stopped when his procession arrived and I was trapped in the streets by the rush of his party, but the young man I saw was scarcely sixteen years of age. He could not be the Iadmon my former master, nor even The Swine of my nightmares. I think it must have been his son, no doubt forced on some poor slave girl. One thing was certain, he had red hair.

  I smiled ruefully at that bit, even as I pitied the mother.

  The beef spits were piled before the altar of Athena, though half the central chamber stood in rubble. All of Delphi came to view them before the large stone effigy where the goddess dwelled, the citizens spilled out of the temple and down the stepped hillsides, each awaiting his turn to pray for mercy and forgiveness. The seas were unusually calm as the priests chanted the blessing.