Read Hetaera--Suspense in Ancient Athens Online
Authors: Suzanne Tyrpak
Hetaera--Suspense in Ancient Athens (30 page)
He stopped fellow travelers to ask if they had seen a girl with a limp, a girl with golden curls so beautiful that any man who didn’t favor boys would be sure to notice her.
He described her to a band of sailors, described her to soldiers, workmen, men on horseback—with no luck.
“Let’s ask him,” Calonice said, pointing to a donkey cart further down the road.
“That farmer seems half asleep. I doubt he’d notice anything.” But it couldn’t hurt to ask. He kicked the mule and caught up with the cart.
“Excuse me,” he said, attempting to get the farmer’s attention. The man didn’t look at him, just kept staring straight ahead. It seemed impossible that he could see, with his wide-brimmed hat pulled so low that his eyes were hidden. The man was obviously a peasant, his skin as brown as dirt. “Excuse me,” Diodorus called again.
The man grunted.
“Have you seen a girl with yellow hair walking along this road? She may be traveling with a man. You can’t miss them. He dresses flamboyantly and the girl limps.”
The farmer shook his head.
“Well that was useless,” Diodorus said as they trotted past the wagon. “What made you want to ask him?”
“I had a feeling,” Calonice said.
Diodorus laughed. “So much for your feelings. That man could hardly speak.”
“Onye otu anya na abu eze n’ala ndi isi.”
“What does that mean?”
“The one-eyed man is king in the land of the blind.”
“And that means what?”
“That farmer may be paying more attention than a group of sailors or drunken soldiers. Maybe Hestia is traveling in disguise. We don’t even know if she took this road.”
Diodorus sighed. The prospect of finding Hestia seemed hopeless.
Calonice patted the mule. “Enyi will help us find her,” she said.
Diodorus thought about what Calonice had said. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Hestia had taken another road or maybe she wore a disguise. Something about that farmer bothered him. Something about him seemed familiar.
Pulling on the reins, he turned the mule around, guiding Enyi back the way they’d come.
“Where are you going?” Calonice asked.
“I’m searching for the one-eyed man.” But Diodorus saw no trace of the farmer or the donkey cart.
The cart bumped along, jostling Hestia awake.
She yawned, stroked Odysseus.
“Are you awake?” Galenos called.
“I think so.”
“Good. We’ve reached Eleusis. We’re passing the sanctuary where you were conceived.”
Hestia poked her head out of the hay. A sanctuary of marble statues and green lawn stretched before her and beyond that, a grotto. The setting sun painted the distant mountains gold.
“May we stop?”
“Not this time, perhaps another. Only initiates are permitted to enter the sanctuary,” Galenos said. “To speak of it may entail death.”
“One day I will go there,” Hestia said.
“First we must get to Delphi. There you will discover your true birthright.”
“I know my birthright,” Hestia said. “I’m the daughter of Agathon.”
“And the daughter of Olympia, who remains a mystery,” Galenos said. “To be conceived within the inner sanctum of the most sacred site in Attica is not something to take lightly, Hestia.”
“You mean I’m not just a bastard and a slave?”
“You’re much more—a child of sacred union, a child born of the highest love.”
She wanted to believe him.
She felt a spark of hope, something she hadn’t felt since the death of Agathon. The spark shone like a tiny star within a vast expanse of doubt. And that light gave her direction.
The wagon creaked past the bay, the day’s last light playing on tranquil water.
“Where will we sleep tonight, Galenos?”
“Beneath the stars in full sight of the greatest mystery.”
Galenos began to whistle.
“What’s that tune?”
“A song I used to sing to my children.”
Hestia fell back on the bed of hay and watched the sky darken into twilight. The evening star appeared, and she wished somehow Diodorus would find her. Laying her hand on her belly, she spoke to the baby, “Don’t worry, Melissa, I’ll take care of you.”
Closing her eyes, she saw herself standing on a precipice overlooking a valley veiled by mist. Beyond the valley lay the Gulf of Corinth, gray and distant. Fog rolled up the rocky hills, vapors swirling at her feet, and through that shroud a temple appeared.
“Come,” a voice whispered. “Come to me.”
“I’m on my way,” she said.
Never in her life had she felt so exhausted and never so elated. Despite her discomfort, despite the danger she faced, she felt happy. For the first time in her life she tasted freedom, and freedom tasted sweet. The future held the promise of the unknown, and what greater freedom could a person know than the pursuit of life’s mystery?
Glossary
absinthites oinos—
wormwood wine
acropolis—
a citadel or fortified part of the city
Aegean—
an elongated embayment of the Mediterranean Sea
Aegisthus—
lover of Clytemnestra
Agamemnon—
King of Argos
agape—
true love, deep love, unconditional love
agora—
marketplace
Aphrodite—
goddess of love
amphora—
double-handled, vase-shaped container
andron—
a room where men met for symposiums
Apollo—
god of prophesy, the arts, music and the sun
Ares—
god of war
Athena—
goddess of strategy, warfare, philosophy
Boedromion—
month corresponding to September/October
Charon—
ferryman of Hades, who carried the dead across the rivers Styx and Acheron
chiton—
loose-fitting tunic worn by men and women
choregoi—
wealthy citizen who financed a theatrical production
Clytemnestra—
wife of Agamemnon, King of Argos
Despoina—
mistress of the house
djinni—
genie
Dionysius—
god of the grape harvest and ritual madness
Dionysia—
theater festival honoring Dionysius
dithyramb—
hymn sung and danced in honor of Dionysius
drachma—
from 600 BC until the euro, the currency of Greece
Electra—
Daughter of King Agamemnon and Queen Clytemnestra, sister to Orestes
Erinyes—
the Furies, goddesses of retribution
eros—
physical attraction, passion
Elysium—
land of the afterlife
Furies—
same as the Erinyes
Hades —
god of the underworld, brother of Zeus
Hekatombaion—
month corresponding to July/August
hetaera—
consort or courtesan, highly educated, influential women
himation—
large cloak or shawl
hoplite—
a citizen soldier
Homer—
epic poet, wrote
the Iliad
and
the Odyssey
hydria—
double-handled water jar
Icarus—
myth: using wings of feathers and wax Icarus flew too close to the sun
Ker—
female death-spirit
Kollytos—
poor quarter of Athens
kordax—
obscene comic dance
Kurios—
guardian
kyklo
i—a circular platform
lokhagos—
captain
machaira—
sacrificial knife
manumit—
the act of an owner freeing a slave
metic—
a foreigner with more rights than a slave, but not a citizen
mina—
a thousand drachmas
Odysseus—
legendary Greek King of Ithaca, hero of Homer’s epic poem the Odyssey
olisbos—
dildo
Orestes—
son of King Agamemnon and Queen Clytemnestra, brother to Electra
pallake—
concubine
pedagogas—
a guard who escorts a schoolboy
Poseidon—
god of the sea and earthquakes
pompe—
opening of the Dionysia, the procession of phalli
sakkos—rough cloth made from animal hair
Skambonidai—
wealthy quarter of Athens
stoa—
covered walkway, portico
Strategos—
Leader, General, ten strategoi were elected annually, one from each clan
strophium
—bands of cloth tied around the breasts, like a bra
Styx—
river dividing this world from the next
symposium—
male drinking party, included philosophical discussions and entertainment
talent—
currency, 100 drachma=mina, 100 minae=talent
Tartarus—
the underworld
tavli—
a board game
thronos—
an ornate stool
trireme—
a ship of war
AcknowledgementsZeus—
god of the heavens, sky and thunder
As always, thanks to the members of my writing group who continue to give me encouragement and feedback: Blake Crouch, Gail Harris, Terry Junttonen, Shannon Richardson, Haz Saïd, Dinah Swan, and Douglas Walker. Thanks also to my Beta Readers Carol Stoner and Leah Morgan. I will always remember a wonderful research trip to Greece with my friend and mentor, Elizabeth Engstrom—here’s to goddesses, the Oracle of Delphi, and sexy waiters. The book benefited greatly from my terrific editors: Joe Lewandowski, Anne Victory, and Elizabeth Green. Thanks to Rob Siders for his excellent formatting. And, once again, hugs and kisses to Jeroen ten Berge who designed a fantastic cover. Special thanks and gratitude to Terry Brooks, with whom I studied in Maui—one day during the lunch break, we both came up with the same title: Agathon’s Daughter. And heartfelt thanks to Tess Gerritsen; her guidance, generosity, and faith in my writing carried me through hard times and gave me the courage to continue.
Novels:
Vestal Virgin—Suspense in ancient Rome
Dating My Vibrator (and other true fiction)
Ghost Plane and Other Disturbing Tales
I’d love to hear from you!
My blog: Who’s Imagining All This?
http://ghostplanestory.blogspot.com/
Copyright 2011 Suzanne Tyrpak
Cover Design Copyright 2011 Jeroen ten Berge
