City of gods - Hellenica (3 page)

“I agree with you in terms of the Agoge and Sparta; I have no place there,” said Gunnar, “but society has given me a place here in the pit. So perhaps I
do
belong here.”

“They tolerate you for now,” said the man. “You’re a novelty, but you don’t win anyone any money. Sooner or later they’ll send another nettle, probably before you turn sixteen.”

“That’s my problem,” said Gunnar.

“No,” said the fishmonger, “it’s mine too. I see the powers you have and can’t bear to see them wasted.”

“If you think I have
powers
, you’re mistaken,” said Gunnar. “I’m just a kid who can fight, nothing more. I’m not a god …”

“You’re
better
than the gods, and that’s why I’m here,” said the man. “We have a special Academy for those with powers like you. We want … we
need …
you to attend. And those behind this nettle want the opposite.”

The man had Gunnar’s full attention.

“Your days of fighting in the pit are over,” he said. “You’ll retire, and no one will miss you; no one ever misses those who are violent. You’ve always
loathed
the petty brutality around you, Gunnar, and the Academy will allow you to do something about it. Would you like to come?”

Gunnar looked at the man’s bearded face; he wasn’t lying.

“I’ll go,” said Gunnar, “but I need to see this place before I commit; I’ve had my troubles with warrior schools.”

“Great,” said the man. “We can go tonight.”

The man got up to leave and then turned around.

“I noticed you speak Babylonian,” he said.  “Although I’m not proficient in it myself, they do know me in Dagon’s docks. They call me
Ērk
lǔ
.”

Ērk
lǔ
was the Babylonian name for
Heracles
.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Emetor Kain was particularly active this morning. He was teaching Saoirse Frost and her clutch of
Hetaerae
emotional bonding.

“The common man wants two things from a common prostitute. Second in importance is release, in any way, shape or form. First in importance is for the prostitute to disappear when he is done—the sooner the better. The prostitute must be like a meal at a restaurant: easy, predictable and leaving nothing afterwards to clean up.”

Emetor Kain looked over the clutch of girls, and his gaze lingered long on Saoirse. She was the oldest of her clutch at fifteen years of age, and the only girl that had begun to develop; many of the other girls had no hips to speak of. The Emetor’s eyes always focused on Saoirse more than the others, but he made it clear that he had no lascivious thoughts for her. He also made it clear that, with her flawless, chocolate-colored skin, soft blonde hair and gently curving frame, she’d earn him a lot of money one day.

“You aren’t prostitutes; you’re
Hetaerae
,” continued the Emetor. “You’re not there for men’s carnal pleasure, and you don’t disappear afterwards. The prostitute has a john; Hetaerae have
Danna,
councilmen, district leaders, and occasionally
gods
.

“The common prostitute pleases her client to make a living. Hetaerae are not concerned with
making a living
; you please your Danna because you love them, because pleasing your Danna is part of
who you are.
You provide more than just your body, an empty vessel to be filled. You have a heart, a mind, a soul, a personality. They all belong to the one who purchases your services of course, but you are each unique.

“This is why you’ve spent your life up to this point learning skills. Music, voice, poetry, gymnastics, literature. You are to be your
Danna’s partner, your Danna’s love, your Danna’s muse. They will ask for you by name and it will give you a thrill. When they visit you, they will fill that void inside you; your Danna will be the missing piece, without which you have no purpose.

“You will be your
Danna’s confidant and friend.
Elysian
poets will write about the love between you and your Danna, and this poetry will be sung for centuries to come. You’ll be with them throughout their lives, and when they are no more, you’ll attend their funeral, in secret, so as not to disturb their family. You will love and understand their needs
so much
that you’ll do this.”

Kain looked across the room and saw Elsephela Grex come in from the other end of the studio bedchamber, her pet striped hyaena trotting behind her. Saoirse noticed that she was carrying a small glowing box but couldn’t quite tell what it was. The Elsephela was clearly angry at something and wanted to speak with Emetor Kain immediately.

“At times you may feel unable to love,” said the Emetor. “Your Danna may be unsightly, malodorous or simply unlovable. Truly loving the unlovable is a difficult task. For this we have many drugs that will help induce feelings of closeness and …”

The Emetor couldn’t continue; Elsephela Grex’s striped hyaena was growling.

“Emetor, I’ve a complaint against one of your girls,” she said.

“Which one, and what for?” he said.

He’s protective of us,
thought Saoirse,
but in the way the shepherd is protective of his lambs on the way to the smokehouse.

“My issue is with the dark-skinned one,” said the Elsephela. “The one with blonde hair.”

Saoirse’s heart sank. What could the Elsephela possibly want with her? She’d done nothing out of the ordinary.
They told me the Elsephela can read a girl’s mind
, thought Saoirse,
and I’ve had some dark thoughts lately. Am I in trouble for my thoughts?

“If your issue is with Saoirse,” said the Emetor, “I can assure you that you’re mistaken. She’s never given one spot of trouble in all her fifteen years and—”

“Don’t lecture me on the spotlessness of a Hetaera’s soul, Emetor. They have trained their whole lives to be liars; I above all else would know this. Give me Ms. Frost for a little bit of time so that I may ask her some questions. That’s all I ask.”

“If you abuse her—” said the Emetor, before being interrupted again.

“I don’t abuse your precious golden geese, Emetor, not physically, not emotionally. All I want is answers. Saoirse, come with me now.”

The Emetor nodded at Saoirse to go. Saoirse walked by her clutch of girls towards the Elsephela and her hyaena. They all bowed their heads, not daring to make eye contact. Saoirse walked down until she was close enough to smell the old woman. The hyaena inspected Saoirse curiously and then started to whine.

“Come, child,” said the Elsephela, holding her glowing box, “we have only one thing to discuss.”

/***/

Saoirse Frost sat with the Elsephela in a dark interrogation room three floors below. Saoirse felt quite uncomfortable; this was the first time she’d ever been in a room with hard, cold edges, and the first time she’d sat on anything besides velvet.

The Elsephela reeked of rotten sulfur. Retired Hetaerae used a noxious herb called “Devil’s dung” to provide a scent that stated they were no longer for sale. Few would want the Elsephela even if she smelled like roses; like most retired Hetaerae, she had her face powdered white and her teeth dyed black. 
             

“I was like you once, child,” said the woman. “I put in my ten years; that’s all they ask of our kind. Most slaves are given a life of servitude, but our kind, we’re only required to give our youth. No labor, no hot sun, no starvation. You’ll even be given two servants of your own. They’re waiting outside to cater to your every need right now.

“So I ask you, child, why would you destroy everything you have?”

Saoirse didn’t know what to say.

“Short of words?” said the Elsephela. “Or more likely you’re short of mind? Girls who are given your gifts—bright hair, dark skin and sweet breath—need not develop thoughts to have value. Is this it? Is this why you would choose to disfigure yourself? To disfigure every other Hetaerae in your clutch? To ruin their features so that you may win your own freedom?”

Saoirse was on the verge of tears. She had learned the arts of love, music and poetry, but not the art of conflict.

“Speak, child. The brainless silence of beauty may work with the Emetor, but not with me. Not here, not now.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then it was broken by the hyaena making a high-pitched laughing sound at Saoirse. It snapped Saoirse into action.

“Forgive me, Elsephela, but I know not of what you speak.”

The Elsephela looked over Saoirse for a few moments, and then spoke.

“My striped hyaena has an excellent sense of smell, you know. Certain pheromones tend to be given off in fear; certain pheromones only come from lying. He knows which is which.”

The Elsephela gave the hyaena a look, and in a flash the animal bounced up on the table. He was now unhooked, and went over to Saoirse. He gave off a growl, but Saoirse didn’t flinch. He peered at her, sniffed, and peered some more. Finally he rubbed his scent glands on her, lay down and groomed himself.

“It appears you’re telling the truth,” said the Elsephela, “but this doesn’t mean you’re without guilt. I believe that you’ve caused this without your knowledge, because you’re
too stupid
to realize what you’ve done. You were given many gifts but brains were not—”

The hyaena barked his high-pitched chirp and interrupted the Elsephela. Saoirse sensed something strange underneath the hyaena’s voice, as if he were pleading with the old woman to stop.

“Forgive me, Elsephela, if I do not have the ability to understand,” said Saoirse. “But if you could just tell me what troubles you, I would be able to help you. All I ask is that you be clear.”

The Elsephela peered at Saoirse and narrowed her eyes.

“It appears the Emetor has trained you well,” she said, “but I am not some hen-pecked Alderman to be assuaged by silken words coming from someone who is not his wife. Here is what angers me.”

The Elsephela brought out her box and put it on the table. She opened it to reveal a glowing golden disc with some strange symbols on it. It seemed to pulsate as it glowed. There were some bloodied teeth by it, but still, Saoirse found it attractive.

“I know not what this is, Elsephela.”

“You do,” said the old woman. “This is the handiwork of your goddess, Oshun.”

Oshun
. This was Saoirse’s personal goddess, the Yoruban goddess of beauty. Saoirse had never known her parents but had resembled Oshun from an early age, so she worshipped her. That was it though; she’d never sent Oshun a malicious prayer, and knew not what this strange glowing disc was.

Saoirse immediately went on the defensive.
Sometimes your Danna is clearly wrong,
the Emetor had taught her
, but you’re not here to win arguments. Never go on the offensive, and never escalate the argument. Defend yourself passively and appear to join the side of the one attacking you.

“We’re only allowed to worship goddesses of beauty in our clutch,” said Saoirse, appearing genuinely inquisitive. “This is so that we may do no harm. Please, Elsephela, educate me upon what harm Oshun may have done so that I may rectify it, or clear it up if it’s a simple misunderstanding.”

“I know what game you’re playing, child,” said the Elsephela, grinding her black teeth. “I played it myself for a decade.”

Saoirse’s heart began to race; the Elsephela was truly angry.
When in doubt, fall back on innocence,
Emetor Kain would say,
fall back on passivity. The world is a cold, cruel place, but you are neither. Your integrity will always win in the end.

“Please, Elsephela,” said Saoirse, “I know not what this object is. Please tell me what it is so I can soothe what ails you.”

“This is a lip plate, child,” said the Elsephela. “It makes even the most beautiful woman hideous. It’s worn by Africans to prevent being taken as slaves.”

Saoirse had no idea what the woman was talking about, but the Elsephela continued to explain it like a prosecutor might condescendingly describe a weapon to the accused. She crept up to Saoirse and put the glowing plate close to Saoirse’s mouth.

“This one isn’t simply a plate worn by a Nubian peasant girl. This one is infused with Oshun’s magic; it seems to work automatically. First, it knocks out your four bottom teeth. Then it wedges in between your chin and lip until they’re torn in two. Then it grows and spreads scars all over your body. Then it changes you into a different creature altogether.”

Saoirse could not help getting a bit defensive.

“Elsephela, I know
nothing of what you speak
,” she said, “but please tell me what this has to do with Oshun. Failing that, please tell me what this has to do with
me
so that I may rectify my actions.”

The Elsephela crept closer to Saoirse. Saoirse tried to breathe through her mouth to avoid the smell, but the old woman’s odor was unavoidable.

“This is one of five plates found over the grounds in the past three days. There are more popping up each day. Two girls have used them already, and one now looks like Medusa herself. I took this plate to Apothecary Qelex, and he stated that it was made by Oshun,
your
Yoruban goddess of beauty. You are the only one who worships her, so
you
must have brought this upon us, intentionally or—”

“Why would
a goddess of beauty
create a relic that causes disfigurement?” asked Saoirse. “It doesn’t make sense. Oshun would never—”

The Elsephela slapped Saoirse across the face and Saoirse’s nose started to bleed.

“Don’t contradict me, child,” said the Elsephela. “The Apothecary knows of what he speaks. You are the only one on this island who worships Oshun. And one evening in your prayers, your ungrateful little mind must have called out to Oshun
for a way out of your situation
. And Oshun delivered; she controls beauty, so surely she can make a relic that takes all beauty
away
.”

Saoirse started to cry, but then controlled herself.
Let a few tears fall to show your love
, the Emetor would say,
but do not lose yourself. Your Danna does not come for tears.

The Elsephela calmed down a bit and offered Saoirse a piece of cloth. The hyaena whined in sympathy.

“Truth be told, child, these plates are intriguing,” said the old woman. “Not even
Aspesia
, mistress of Pericles, would have chosen the fate of a Hetaera. Aspesia was given both mansions and gold, and songs are sung about her still. But every woman yearns to be free; even if the only way out is to turn herself into a monstrosity.”

Saoirse bit her lip; she knew the Elsephela’s sympathy might just be a ruse.