by Rane, April
Inside her room, she looked out over the horizon, excited that she would be able to watch the sunrise. Aradia had asked Iola to bring up a tray before she left to meet Tomis and knowing that she would have left it in the hallway so as not to disturb her, opened her door and took it inside, suddenly aware, seeing the grapes, apples, cheese and fresh bread, just how hungry she was. Sweet Iola, she must remember to reward her.
Aradia pulled a chair up to the window. Placing the tray of food on the windowsill she devoured every morsel, breathing in the brush of golden dawn that appeared in the horizon. Watching the clear glow of the slowly rising sun told her it would be a fine day. She would, she decided, pick a great bunch of anemones and so still feeling the powerful sensation of being a child, she crept out on the roof once again.
Dropping silently to the ground, she danced in the garden while picking bouquets of flowers. She felt drunk! Her dancing slowed and she found herself standing, just staring at the flowers. And then, suddenly, her mind’s eye filled with visions of her sister, Sardiana. Sinking to the ground, she hugged the fragrant anemone to her heart, and found herself singing a sad little lullaby from her childhood. As the hushed lullaby came to her lips, one her grandmother had often sung to her and Sardiana, tears welled up from a deep dark place of despair, a place she believed she had locked away. Clinging to the flowers, which became a damp unrecognizable jumble of color cradled in her arms, she hummed the tune.
A light rain had begun to fall. Iola, looking for Aradia, peeked out through the window and seeing her mistress on the ground, clearly in distress, snatched up a shawl and ran down the stairs to join her.
“Why are you crying, Mistress” she pleaded, kneeling beside her. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Sardiana?” Aradia asked, looking at Iola as if she didn’t know her.
“No, it is me, Iola. Come, I must get you upstairs to a warm bed. Here let me take the flowers.”
“No, I will keep the flowers,” said Aradia determinedly, clearly recognizing her now. When Iola reached for them and tried to speak, Aradia gently placed a finger over Iola’s lips. “Shush, I am alright. I am all right now. I know the flowers are crushed, but that is apropos. They are a reminder of how short a life can be… and perhaps a reminder to me - to live life to the fullest?”
“What do you mean, he is gone? “ Aradia cried. She had just received the news that Tomis was gone again when she joined Sovonya. “He would not leave without saying goodbye to me. I cannot believe it.”
“Calm yourself, child,” clucked her patroness. “He has left a note for you. I will bring it to you later on. The master of the house is back, and Tomis has been sent on a most urgent mission for him, after which he will go on to meet with his father. We have had free rein for more than two moons. Things are run differently when he is here. Thank the Gods that it is not too often, as I otherwise could not bear to be his wife!”
“Wife?” Aradia said, puzzled. “But I thought…”
“You thought, no doubt, that I hold a position here,” said Sovonya, her face grim. “And, of course, I do. I am wife, although in name only. Otherwise, I would not be allowed the freedom I have. All Greek men need wives. It is the custom, even though they may, if they choose, never see them. Wives oversee the household slaves.”
“Their slaves?” Aradia exclaimed once again.
“Where on earth do you come from, child?” Sovonya asked her. “Everyone who serves us is a slave. All city states are made up of free men and slaves.”
“But what about women?”Aradia demanded. “Never mind…that I do know the answer to. Iola is a slave?”
“Yes, but as you see she is well taken care of.”
“But Iola and the others are not free!” Aradia protested.
“That is true, as a woman within the limits of Greek society I have found a way to be free,” Sovonya said, reaching over to clasp Aradia’s hand, “it is what I am trying to accomplish for you.”
“You said that the master has returned. How will that change things?”
“As you no doubt know on mainland Greece men and women never dine together,” said Sovonya, “but the very nature of the master’s business, shipping, has him visiting many cultures. That fact, and also his need for control, knowing exactly what is going on at all times, allows us some freedoms when it comes to dining. On his first evening home we receive those that see to the running of the villa when he is gone. Any guests, like yourself, are introduced to him, as you will be very shortly. Make no mistake that bending the Athenian ways, as we sometimes do here on the island, would not change the fact that the master is Greek!”
Rising abruptly, she told Aradia, “Go change for the evening meal.” Sovonya took a deep breath before continuing, “It will be alright child. Remember my goal is to help you find freedom in a culture where women have no freedoms. Run along now, the dinner bell will alert you when it is time to meet the lion.”
Upon entering the dining room later that evening, Sovonya introduced Aradia to the master, telling her to address him as Master Rumaldea.
Aradia had heard little about him, save what had been disclosed this very day and she could see why. As she took her seat he measured her with a penetrating glare. Aradia could understand why the servants and even Sovonya did not speak of him. Surely they could say nothing good, she mused.
She had been introduced as a cousin and she was amazed how false the story sounded as Sovonya stumbled through it. The man sitting to the left of Aradia was pleasant enough. He saw to the farming, milling and overseeing the slaves to work the land. The man sitting opposite Aradia next to Sovonya trained the horses. He kept his head down paying attention to the courses of the meal as they were being served, only to look up when being addressed by Rumaldea.
Aradia tried numerous times to converse with the men, only to be constantly interrupted by the lion, whom she felt was well named. He intimidated everyone at the table with his overbearing demeanor, even Aradia for a short time. This puzzled and amazed her, for up until this point in her life, no one could put her in such a position. So she set out to take his measure. Always study your enemies. Smile as you look them straight in the eye, her grandmother’s words of wisdom nearly hummed in her ears.
Sitting up straight in her chair, and steeling herself for the intensity of his gaze, determined to use all of her training to hold her ground when he deemed it suitable for her to speak. She did however understand this was his house, and respect was in order. But to be spoken to with such disregard, as well as the condescending manner he used with his guests, went against her grain.
When Rumaldea finally addressed Aradia, she purposefully looked him directly in the eye; that did not seem to suit him. He was used to people averting their eyes, she thought, and bowing their heads when he spoke to them. Aradia’s training and ingrained dislike for authority would not allow her to bow her head to anyone who would think themselves her superior.
Aradia noticed his long nose twitch in discomfort under her scrutiny. The pointed chin that was aimed toward her felt like a weapon; it made his hollow cheeks appear more prominent, and his narrow dark eyes vapid pools of burnt coal. For a moment she felt the chill of death pass over her body.
With determination she continued her perusal of him. As he turned to address one of the other guests she noticed his sparse brown hair pulled uncomfortably tight in a knot at the back of his neck. Turning back toward her, his thin lips drew a tight grimace, and Aradia decided with sadness it would probably cause him pain to smile.
She used the gifts her grandmother taught her to observe that he felt women were a necessary evil; he used them only to gratify his needs and felt dirty after cavorting with them. He probably scrubbed himself raw after an encounter, but she could not find it within her to feel sorry for him even when she intuitively knew he had been abused as a child. Making money and keeping large quantities of it hidden allowed him to feel safe. Helping men he felt were beneath him made him feel powerful, but there was
little that helped him feel clean, as she had noticed that he constantly wiped his mouth and cleaned his eating utensils.
Gradually he grew tired of trying to intimidate her and he began to speak of his shipping line. He spouted off the large profits he made, and heaped praises on the good ship’s captain, who would be coming to sup with them tomorrow eve. “Love the name of the ship, Satarcia. It means, free as the wind!”
Aradia choked on her food. “You … cannot mean you own that ship…the captain he…” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
“What do you mean, woman? Speak up!” He thundered, half rising out of his chair. “The captain is a good friend of mine.”
“I, ah…oh no, I am thinking of another ship, another captain to be sure.” She had made a grave mistake. “Cook has outdone herself this evening.” Aradia said, and beseeching Sovonya with her eyes, held out her wine goblet to be filled by one of the slaves. Her mind began to race, though she tried to put a look of serenity on her face. What would she do if the captain recognized her?
Lady Sovonya came to her rescue with a tasty morsel of gossip that had the guests laughing. Then with ease the great lady led the discussion to the huge amount of profit the farms were making.
“Timerus, wherever did you find that nice young man who has such knowledge about planting in the fields? You know the one who seems to magically know what days to plant, and when to cut. Why, he alone has increased the yield more than triple what has been produced on those fields in the past,” said Sovonya, hoping his tale would be long and interesting. The conversation dwelling on his profits kept the lord engrossed and he soon lost interest in Aradia.
When Lady Sovonya had a quiet moment, Aradia leaned over and spoke into her ear.
Looking aghast at Aradia’s request, Sovonya asked, “Why ever would you want to sit next to the Captain after your outburst this eve? I would think you would not want to be anywhere near him.”
“It is most important that I not only sit next to him, but that I sit on his right side. That is his good ear. Do not ask me how I know. Please…it is a matter of life and death.”
The next evening Aradia was not in attendance in the sitting room. Lady Sovonya impatiently looked for her, and made apologies to the other women.
The guests included a judge, and a councilman named Timerus. He was the brother of Timerus the younger, who was the land manager, and looked like his twin. His wife, a small mousy woman, very different from his brother’s wife, perpetually cleared her throat, yet never said a word. The man who trained Rumaldea’s horses was there again. He was lounging on the outskirts of the group, saying less than he had the night before.
The dinner bell rang and everyone amiably took their seats. Aradia waited until they were all seated, and then nodding her head to the master and mistress who were sitting at the opposite ends of the long table, she made her apologies and took her seat next to the captain of ship in which she had been a captive on.
The Captain of the Satarcia nodded his head in her direction, and with surprise looked again. “We’ve met before?” he queried.
“Yes… you know me, Captain Grisarius,” she whispered into the captain’s good ear. “You purchased me from the Capitan of a savage group of warriors that decimated my home and family. Your men brutally killed my friend in the seaport of Tarquinia and threw me in the hold of your ship. You had plans to sell me for quite a sum, for I speak many languages and have a way with numbers. It is because of that, when I was a guest…upon your ship, I found that you were cheating the owner.”
The captain’s expression changed, and he motioned the slave away that was serving him.
“You take your life in your hand, child,” he murmured.
But Aradia would not be put off.
“While aboard, I had a look at the ship’s log and I am aware of your stealing from the owner of the ship, who just happens to be master here,” she told him. “If you think he would be happy over that, then go ahead and speak to him about it. But remember that I have proof of what I say and I know where you keep your personal log…In fact, why don’t I tell him now! We’ll see whom he believes!”
She had taken a grave chance, and well she knew it. He was frightened. She could see fear on his weather-beaten face.
“You must know that no one will believe you.” He told her, though he stole a glance at the master of the house, “What do you want from me?” he muttered.
Heady with power, Aradia smiled.
“As for what will follow, let me think on it.”
And with that, she turned her attention to the other guests.
Looking towards Lady Sovonya, The captain of the Satarcia, desperate to keep Aradia from speaking, smiled at his hostess saying, “I must owe ya’ great favor for the pleasure of such delightful company such as this young lady. A man like me, out at sea fa’ months at a time, with nothing this pretty ta’ see…why I feel honored by her company.”
Not a sound was heard. No one ate or breathed it seemed. Many had their mouths opened. He had been a guest before and everyone knew he had no interest in the ladies. Sovonya was pleasantly aghast at the fact that he could put a sentence together, never mind using proper etiquette. He spoke business to Rumaldea when they were ensconced in the library with their wine. Other than that, while at the table he ate and grunted at profound or sometimes drunken statements from the men, and openly sneered at any remark that she made. Sovonya was thoroughly enjoying the show! The captain was acting strangely, she thought, and she was absurdly amused! She did not know exactly what this awkward behavior was about, but it was better than the town’s play she had attended last year.
After dinner, as Aradia and Sovonya lounged in the garden, Sovonya blurted out, “It was sad to see the evening end. It was the best social evening I’ve had in quite some time. Will I be privy to your secret, or will I spend the rest of my life wondering what transpired as you whispered into the captain’s good ear?”
Aradia inhaled deeply; then slowly letting it out exclaimed, “I have much to tell you.” Hesitating, a wistful look etched in her eyes, she continued. “I am sorry that we have had no time of late. It is possible that soon, there will be more to tell. Then you shall be privy to more than you might want to know. I am sure that sounds mysterious but you have trusted me so far. Please… just a bit longer?”
“Has anyone ever turned you down when you have begged so?”
“I have been very lucky in my life. I have never had to beg,” Aradia stated firmly as she got up to go. With a shrug of her slender shoulder she said, “And it is a good thing, for I have a grievous fault. I am too proud to beg.”
“Oh my, I didn’t mean…” stammered Sovonya. “Please forgive …”
Aradia bent over and kissed her patron on the forehead. “No. You mistook me. I have something weighing heavily on my mind. It is nothing you have said. I love you like a mother. I do not mean to be forward, but those words needed saying. Thank you for all you have done for me. You have been so kind. I will spend the evening in my room if that is all right. I feel poorly.”
“Yes, of course my dear, I will have Iola check on you. You do look pale. Run along now,” she added, clearing her throat. “Aradia… if it is any comfort, I likewise have great affection for you. If I had been blessed enough to have had a child, I would have been graced by the gods if it had been you.”
Aradia could not speak because of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Tears coursing down her cheeks, she ran to the house. She was so frightened of disappointing Sovonya, and she was concerned, thinking she would never see Tomis again. It had been nearly two moons since his hasty exit. And she knew she was with child. She had suspected for a while, but up until this moment she did not want to face it.
Aradia sat by her window, marveling at the last hues of daylight. She watched as the sun’s golden orb melted into the earth, leaving behind multicolored rays pulsating in the backdrop of the now dimly lit sky. Deciding that she would tell Sovo
nya everything in the morning made her recognize it was easier being someone she was not. She could play the role and not face the fact that her whole family had been butchered. She could forget the horror of seeing her friend Phesoj killed, and push away the torture of being abducted. She could move through her day pretending all was well; only at night, when it was quiet, would she look at the truth of it. Yes, she would tell her in the morn. She slept fitfully that eve.
Startled awake, she could only recall one thing from her dream. Her spirit guide saying, “It takes strength to hide feelings, it takes courage to show them. It is possible you have waited too long.”
Turning over to stretch, playing the words of the dream over in her mind she was suddenly aware of a horrific sound rending the air. Sitting up quickly, she heard feet scurrying in the hallway, and Sovonya’s maid, Stalena, poked her head through the door without knocking to tell her that she must come quickly, that her mistress had been taken ill.
Seeing Sovonya’s pale face against the pillow, Aradia cried out against the unfairness of it all. “Noooo! Not you too? All those I love are taken away from me.”
“It is her heart, erratic is what,” declared the man who Aradia recognized as the one who tended the animals. “We’ll just have to see,” he said. “Bed rest is all that can be done.”
Aradia stood there shaken. Well, she thought, there must be something else that can be done. Grim with determination, she headed toward the wing where the lion roomed. She was barred from entering by his slave.
“I must see the master,” demanded Aradia pushing him aside, nearly knocking him over.
“He is having his morning meal. Whatever it is, it can wait,” said the manservant, regaining his balance as he held her back.