Hetaera--Suspense in Ancient Athens (Agathon's Daughter)

by Suzanne Tyrpak

  A knock came at the door.

  “Enter.” Lycurgus leaned back in his chair, tapped his fingers on the desk.

  The eunuch entered, carrying a tray.

  “Thank you, Galenos. We won’t need refreshments after all. Please show the Despoina out.”

  Melaina barely heard him. The buzzing sound had grown so loud she could hear nothing else. Before leaving the library, she glanced back at Lycurgus. A cloud of bees swarmed around him. He might not know it, but they would sting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Navigating the rocky coast of Attica could be treacherous, but summer winds blew the ship to Piraeus in a few hours. After the silver had been smelted, delivery to Athens was handled by the state. Upon the ship’s arrival at the port, wealthy men who’d never spent an hour in the mines oversaw unloading of the precious cargo. Marking their wax tablets, they took inventory as carts were loaded with silver.

  No one paid attention to Diodorus and his slave. They carried no bags, but Diodorus had brought a full purse. They slipped unnoticed through the crowd.

  After eating a breakfast of barley bread dipped in wine and a handful of olives, Diodorus secured transportation. He could not afford the price of a horse, but he purchased a fine mule.

  Convincing Calonice to ride the animal proved a challenge.

  “I’d rather walk.” The girl seemed determined, folding her thin arms over her chest.

  “The mule is supposed to be the stubborn one,” Diodorus said.

  “I will walk beside you.”

  “Walking is too slow. You’ll ride in front of me. I won’t let you fall.”

  Mumbling something in another language, Calonice kept her distance from the mule.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “The way he looks at me.” The mule brayed and she backed further away. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “All right, I’ll blindfold you. Will that solve the problem?”

  “Can you blindfold the mule instead?”

  “You made a joke,” Diodorus said. “You must be feeling better.” He found his handkerchief and shook it out. “Slightly used. Pity you won’t see where we’re going.”

  Calonice scrunched her nose. “I’ll just close my eyes.”

  “Good. Now, let’s get you on the mule.”

  After several practice lifts, Calonice managed to swing her leg over the mule’s back. Her short legs stuck out on either side and Diodorus burst out laughing.

  “Are you coming, Master?”

  Diodorus mounted the mule easily. With the girl in front of him, they clomped along the road to Athens.

  By the end of the journey Calonice rode with her eyes open. She’d made peace with the mule, stroking the animal’s neck and waving away flies.

  “What will you call him?” she asked Diodorus.

  “How about Mule?”

  “He needs a proper name. I will call him Enyi.” She patted the animal’s neck and the mule bobbed its head. “See. He likes his name.”

  “What kind of name is Enyi?”

  “Igbo. Enyi means friend.”

  “A fine name for a mule,” Diodorus said.

  Calonice turned her head to smile at him. “I like traveling.”

  They arrived at the city gate, covered in dust and weary. The closer they got to the acropolis, the quieter Calonice became.

  “What’s wrong?” Diodorus asked.

  “Are we going to your mother’s house?”

  “It’s my house,” Diodorus said, “and I promise no harm will come to you. But before we go there, I must see Hestia.”

  The prospect of seeing her friend seemed to cheer Calonice. “Are you going to bring Hestia back to your house?”

  “That’s my hope.” The excitement of being back in Athens waned as Diodorus thought about the ordeal lying before him. There was no guarantee that Lycurgus would sell Hestia, though he was willing to pay any price. He’d sell anything he had to get her back.

  “Are you worried, Master?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “In my homeland we say, Ukwa ru oge ya, odaa.”

  “Which means?”

  “When the breadfruit is ripe, it will fall.”

  “All things in their proper time?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re wise for a little girl.”

  Calonice frowned. “I’m not so little.”

  Diodorus chuckled. Anxious to see Hestia, he prodded the mule to move faster. The animal sped up for several steps, then slowed again and continued plodding.

  “Enyi is weary,” Calonice said. “So am I.”

  They rode without speaking, as they began the ascent to the acropolis. Heat drove people off the road and out of the sun. There would be no meetings of state this late in the day, no important gatherings at the acropolis, and Diodorus expected Lycurgus to be home.

  Thinking about his employer, the man to whom he was indentured for a year—thinking about what Lycurgus had done to Hestia—Diodorus felt his temperature rise higher than the afternoon’s heat. He clasped the reins, tightening them until the mule came to a halt.

  “Why are we stopping, Master? The turnoff is up there.” Calonice pointed.

  “Thank you.”

  He warned himself to calm down. In his current state he feared he might kill Lycurgus. Kill his mother. The thought of seeing Melaina fired his blood. He had to set his house in order before she destroyed his father’s legacy.

  “Turn here,” Calonice said.

  He nudged the mule along the shaded path, calculating how much the trees must have cost to plant. His heart beat faster when he saw the house, as ostentatious as Lycurgus. The man must think himself a king. With every step the mule took, Diodorus felt the pounding in his head increase. When they reached the three-story monstrosity, he dismounted. He reached for Calonice, lifting her from the mule. She looked wilder than ever, her braids going every which way and her chiton awry.

  “Are you all right, Master?”

  “Never better.”

  He tethered the mule to the statue of Priapus and, securing the rope around the god’s swollen phallus, snickered at his blasphemy. He winked at Calonice and pounded the bronze doorknocker.

  An eye appeared in the peephole and the door opened. Galenos wore a floor-length tunic the color of a canary.

  “I’ve come to see Lycurgus.” Before Galenos answered, Diodorus pushed past him, entering the foyer. “Lycurgus!” he shouted.

  “I’ll announce you,” Galenos said nervously. He glanced at Calonice. “Will your slave wait outside?”

  Ignoring him, Diodorus entered the courtyard and headed for the library.

  “Lycurgus, show yourself!”

  The library door opened.

  “Diodorus,” Lycurgus sounded weary. “What brings you to Athens? Shouldn’t you be at the mines?” He motioned toward a stool. “Sit down,” he said, retreating behind his desk. “I suppose my letter upset you. You’ve been spending money like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “I’m not here about your letter. I’m here because of Hestia.”

  “Hestia?” Lycurgus blinked, obviously surprised. He snapped his fingers at Galenos. “Bring us wine and water.” He glanced at Calonice. “And take this slave to the kitchen.”

  “I didn’t travel all this way to drink with you,” Diodorus said.

  “No need to be uncivil.”

  “Is it civil to beat Hestia?”

  Lycurgus glanced at the eunuch who stood by the door with Calonice. “The wine, Galenos.”

  “Thassos or Lesvos?”

  “Thassos. Lots of honey and plenty of spice.”

  Bowing, the eunuch left and Calonice ran after him.

  Lycurgus turned back to Diodorus. “Please, sit. You make me nervous.”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  Lycurgus sighed heavily. “I’m an old man and I shall sit.”

  “I want to buy back Hestia.”

  Lycurgus picked up a stylus, turned
it in his hand. “That won’t be possible.”

  “My mother sold the girl without my knowledge. Without my permission.”

  “You were gone and she has every right to make household decisions.”

  Diodorus slammed his fist on the desk and Lycurgus dropped the stylus.

  “Young man—”

  “My mother had no right to sell Hestia, and you had no right to buy her. I informed you she was not for sale. Both of you went against my wishes.” Diodorus paced back and forth, slamming his fist into his palm. “I think the two of you planned this. I think the two of you have planned a lot of things. The minute I left Athens—”

  “She’s with child.”

  Diodorus stopped pacing.

  “Who is?”

  “Hestia is going to have my son.”

  Galenos entered, bearing wine and water on a tray. He looked from Lycurgus to Diodorus. “Am I interrupting?”

  “Just pour the wine and go,” Lycurgus said.

  Galenos poured the wine into a pitcher, then added water, followed by a large dollop of honey. He stirred the mixture and poured it into cups.

  “How far along is she?” Diodorus watched Lycurgus closely to ascertain if he were lying.

  “Six months. Rather difficult to hide.”

  “Six?” Diodorus accepted a cup of wine from Galenos. If Hestia was six months along… “The child may well be mine.”

  “Yours? That’s not possible. Her papers state she was a virgin when I got her. Your mother will attest to her virginity. Besides, you’ve been in Lavrion for the past six months.”

  “She was not a virgin,” Diodorus said. “I will attest to that.”

  “No one’s asking you to attest to anything.” Lycurgus took the cup Galenos offered him. “My drops,” he said to the slave. “This conversation is making my blood race. It’s about to give me apoplexy.” Galenos handed him a vial. Lycurgus tapped several drops into his wine before setting the tincture on his desk. “These drops make me drowsy, but these days I nap in the afternoon.” He glanced at Diodorus, his eyes sharp as javelins. “I imagine you’ll be leaving soon.”

  “You’re an old man,” Diodorus said. “What can you offer Hestia?”

  Lycurgus leaned back in his chair. “Money. Power. Security. What can you offer her?”

  “I mean to marry Hestia.”

  “Do you?”

  “I love her.”

  “Pity.” Lycurgus downed his cup of wine. “The drops go down easier with honey and spice.” He smiled at Diodorus. “She’ll never marry you.”

  “Let me ask her.”

  “Very well.” Lycurgus nodded at Galenos. “Fetch Hestia.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Hestia and Calonice lay on Hestia’s sleeping couch, just as they had back when they shared a pallet at the House of Agathon, but since those days much had changed.

  Hestia forced herself to concentrate on what Calonice was saying, her mind drifting to Diodorus. Knowing he was in the house, downstairs in the library, made her heart thump so loud she felt certain Calonice could hear it.

  “And then he noticed you? Covered with soot? You must have been a sight, Callie.”

  “I fainted and he rescued me.”

  “Did he?”

  “He’s speaking with your Master now.”

  “About what?”

  “He wants to buy you back.”

  “Really?” Hestia sat up, hugged her knees. Part of her wanted to run downstairs and throw herself into his arms. The other part wanted to hide.

  Odysseus meowed. Maneuvering himself between the two girls, he allowed Calonice to stroke his belly.

  “This cat is fat,” she said.

  “So am I.”

  They laughed, the first time Hestia had laughed in months.

  “I didn’t know you were with child.” Calonice said. Her eyes searched Hestia’s. “Who is the father?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Diodorus?”

  “Don’t speak so loud.” Hestia glanced toward the door. “He really wants to buy me back?”

  Calonice nodded. “When I told him about Lycurgus, he got angry and said we had to come here right away.”

  Someone knocked and the door creaked open. “Hestia?” Galenos poked in his head. “The Master wants you in the library.”

  “Why?” Hestia pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  Galenos arched his painted eyebrows. “He’s with a young man who insists on seeing you.”

  Hestia glanced at Calonice and leapt off the couch. She rushed to her dressing table and picked up her mirror. “I look awful don’t I?”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Of course you do,” Galenos said. “Now that we all agree on how beautiful you are, will you come downstairs?” He held the door open and everyone trailed out, even Odysseus.

  Hestia hung onto Calonice as they descended the stairs. Her legs felt wobbly.

  So much had changed in the past six months that she didn’t feel like the same person. Sometimes days would pass without one thought of Diodorus. When he did come into her thoughts, she reminded herself to think of him as a long-lost brother—after all, he was.

  They passed through the courtyard. Grapes lay heavy on the trellises, and flowers bloomed abundantly. Hestia longed to stop walking, to sit on a bench beneath a tree and forget about Diodorus, forget everything. Though she longed to see him, she also dreaded it. What point was there in raising her hopes only to have them dashed again? If they couldn’t be together, and of course they couldn’t be, it would be better not to see him.

  “Hestia, you’re lagging,” Galenos said.

  Her heart beat faster as they approached the library.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Calonice grabbed Hestia’s hand. “In my homeland we say—”

  “Love is like seaweed; even if you have pushed it away, you will not prevent it from—”

  “I was going to say. A ma ka mmiri si were baa n’opi ugboguru? Who knows how water entered into the stalk of the melon?”

  “What melon?”

  “Who can explain this puzzle?”

  Hestia squeezed her friend’s hand. “Life is a puzzle, isn’t it?”

  Galenos knocked on the door, announcing their arrival.

  “Come in,” Lycurgus said.

  “Not you, Odysseus.” Galenos shooed the cat away.

  The girls entered hand-in-hand.

  “Who’s this?” Lycurgus asked, nodding at Calonice.

  “My slave,” Diodorus said.

  “My friend,” Hestia echoed him.

  Diodorus looked different, the features of his face more defined, his countenance more confident. He had become a man. Upon seeing him a strange heat raced through Hestia’s body. From the corner of her eye she saw Lycurgus. He sat behind his desk watching them.

  “It’s good to see you, Diodorus,” she said, cautiously. If she said the wrong thing, there would be punishment.

  “Hestia,” Diodorus moved toward her and she kept her feet rooted—though it required all her strength not to throw herself into his arms. He reached his hand toward her face. “You’re lovelier than ever.”

  “Am I?” Struggling to maintain composure, she said, “You also look well.”

  “Did you receive none of my letters?”

  “Letters?” She shook her head. “I’ve heard nothing from you, since…” Her voice trailed off. “I thought you’d abandoned me.”

  “Never. I didn’t know my mother sold you. Calonice told me everything.” His eyes moved to her belly. “Almost everything. I came as quickly as I could. I want to buy you back.”

  “And what does my Master say?” She glanced at Lycurgus. “As you know, I’m a commodity to be bought and sold.”

  “I want to marry you,” Diodorus said.

  “You left without saying goodbye, and now you want to marry me? Why this sudden change of heart?”

  “My heart has never changed, only my circumstance. I love yo
u, Hestia.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she felt her heart crack open. He had not forgotten her, but what he proposed was impossible.

  “I can never be your wife.”

  His face crumbled. “Why not? I don’t care if the baby is his. We’ll raise it as our own.”

  “It’s not the baby, Diodorus.” She locked her hands together, afraid that she might reach for him. She had to tell him the truth. He deserved that much.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you remember the ring your mother claimed I stole?”

  “The snakes?”

  “Ah, yes.” Lycurgus said, rising from his chair. “The twin snakes. I know that ring and I knew the woman who wore it.”

  “My mother?”

  “Olympia.”

  “Yes,” Hestia said. “The ring is inscribed with two names. Olympia and—”

  “Agathon?” Diodorus said, his face reflecting comprehension.

  “The names of my parents,” Hestia said. “On his deathbed, Agathon told me that I am his daughter.”

  Diodorus appeared stunned. “Agathon is your father?”

  “Yes, and I’m your sister. That’s why I can’t marry you.”

  Lycurgus raised his cup. “As I said, she has refused you.”

  Diodorus was not easily deterred. He said, “You have no proof, Hestia. You don’t know for certain that Agathon was your father or if Olympia was your mother.”

  “My word will serve as proof,” Lycurgus said. “Give me the ring, and I will write a sworn statement regarding Hestia’s heritage.”

  “You knew all along?” Hestia turned to Lycurgus. “You knew Agathon was my father?”

  “I suspected it. Give me the ring and I’ll be certain. I’ll write a letter stating you’re Agathon’s daughter and that your mother was Olympia of Athens.”

  “If her mother is Olympia of Athens, that proves Hestia to be Athenian,” Diodorus said. “If that’s the case, by law you must free her.”

  “Yes.” Lycurgus said. “The ring is a small price to pay for Hestia’s freedom. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to keep your sister enslaved, would you, Diodorus?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Bring me the ring and I will not only set Hestia free, I will make her my wife.”

  “Make her your wife?” Diodorus turned to Hestia. “Is that what you want? You’re my half-sister. It’s not unheard of for siblings to wed as long as they have different mothers. Think of Cimon and Elpinice.”