daggers, double axes and arrowheads.
There were leeks and scallions, pomegranates and figs, and salt in great barrels; cassia to control the bowel and hyssop to cure leprosy.
There were mirrors and vases, idols and statues. Painted tables, sturdy stools. Feathered caps and bronze scimitars. Flutes of wood and lyres of tortoiseshell.
There was a slave market.
One does not normally give slaves a thought. But a very pretty pair of girls my own age were lifted up on the sale table.
If Menelaus found out that I whom he rescued had stolen a birthright, slavery would be the best I could expect. Being flung off a cliff like a newborn unworthy of its father was more likely.
I was surrounded by trembling slaves, fearful of whomight purchase them and for what use. Fine strong men in shackles awaited the field or salt mine. Young women nursed babies, which would be taken from them so the breast could be used for the master's child. There were weavers for sale, potters and jewelers, holding up examples of their accomplishments, that they might be judged worthy.
I entered the nearest booth and examined vests and kilts made of thick leather for men who could not afford armor. These were an unlikely purchase for me so I moved on. Sponges were available at many stands. One needs a sponge for hygiene. I picked them over.
Behind me, the slave trader called out the final bid on the twins.
A princess, I said to myself, does not notice slaves. I am Callisto of Siphnos. I do not give slaves a thought.
In the next booth were dyes in copper vats: arsenic to make bright yellow and madder for dark red.
I thought of color. How many people knew that Callisto had had black hair? That Callisto had been crippled?
From booth to booth I walked in a daze, thinking of all that could go wrong; of all, indeed, that was wrong with the whole undertaking.
And yet, my goddess had agreed with me. I must hold on to that.
In a jewelry booth, I found something I could not identify. It was a tiny jar, the length of my finger, and hardly twice as wide.
I forgot everything as I held this amazing jar.
I could see through it.
The merchant dropped a shiny red bead into the jar
and I could still see the bead.
It broke all the rules of a container. It contained, but did not hide.
“What treasure have you found, my princess?” said Menelaus, smiling down.
“A magic jar,” I told him.
“Not magic, but glass. It comes from Egypt. I have sailed there twice and met their king. They are a very strange people.”
“Glass,” I whispered, stroking the smooth surface of the magic jar.
Menelaus bought it for me.
The merchant lowered my glass into a bag of soft kidskin, and told me never to drop the glass or let it tip over, because it broke more easily than hearts.
“She is too young to know about broken hearts,” said Menelaus. I saw that he had not really been smiling at me. He was smiling at the world. He was home. His queen, beautiful Helen, would have ruled in his stead, as had Petra in Nicander's absence. She would have planned a storm of joy to welcome him back.
I held tightly to my new treasure.
And there was also the treasure of Nicander to consider. Did I now own everything Nicander owned?
If so, I was a greater pirate than anyone on earth.
For I had stolen an island.
We were to spend the night in the house of a noble named Axon. The house of Axon was larger than the palace of Nicander. Yet it was spare and unwelcoming. No tapestry brought warmth to the walls and no clay pot spilled over with flowers. I saw no altar. I shivered to come and go from a dwelling where no god watched the threshold.
After Menelaus and Axon exchanged greetings and gifts, Iwas brought forward. “This,” said Menelaus, putting a hand on my head, “is the only surviving child of Nicander of Siphnos. Every ship and farmer, every sheep and slave she owned is gone. Yet the pirates fled before reaching the treasury.”
“So her dowry includes an island and Nicander's
There were leeks and scallions, pomegranates and figs, and salt in great barrels; cassia to control the bowel and hyssop to cure leprosy.
There were mirrors and vases, idols and statues. Painted tables, sturdy stools. Feathered caps and bronze scimitars. Flutes of wood and lyres of tortoiseshell.
There was a slave market.
One does not normally give slaves a thought. But a very pretty pair of girls my own age were lifted up on the sale table.
If Menelaus found out that I whom he rescued had stolen a birthright, slavery would be the best I could expect. Being flung off a cliff like a newborn unworthy of its father was more likely.
I was surrounded by trembling slaves, fearful of whomight purchase them and for what use. Fine strong men in shackles awaited the field or salt mine. Young women nursed babies, which would be taken from them so the breast could be used for the master's child. There were weavers for sale, potters and jewelers, holding up examples of their accomplishments, that they might be judged worthy.
I entered the nearest booth and examined vests and kilts made of thick leather for men who could not afford armor. These were an unlikely purchase for me so I moved on. Sponges were available at many stands. One needs a sponge for hygiene. I picked them over.
Behind me, the slave trader called out the final bid on the twins.
A princess, I said to myself, does not notice slaves. I am Callisto of Siphnos. I do not give slaves a thought.
In the next booth were dyes in copper vats: arsenic to make bright yellow and madder for dark red.
I thought of color. How many people knew that Callisto had had black hair? That Callisto had been crippled?
From booth to booth I walked in a daze, thinking of all that could go wrong; of all, indeed, that was wrong with the whole undertaking.
And yet, my goddess had agreed with me. I must hold on to that.
In a jewelry booth, I found something I could not identify. It was a tiny jar, the length of my finger, and hardly twice as wide.
I forgot everything as I held this amazing jar.
I could see through it.
The merchant dropped a shiny red bead into the jar
and I could still see the bead.
It broke all the rules of a container. It contained, but did not hide.
“What treasure have you found, my princess?” said Menelaus, smiling down.
“A magic jar,” I told him.
“Not magic, but glass. It comes from Egypt. I have sailed there twice and met their king. They are a very strange people.”
“Glass,” I whispered, stroking the smooth surface of the magic jar.
Menelaus bought it for me.
The merchant lowered my glass into a bag of soft kidskin, and told me never to drop the glass or let it tip over, because it broke more easily than hearts.
“She is too young to know about broken hearts,” said Menelaus. I saw that he had not really been smiling at me. He was smiling at the world. He was home. His queen, beautiful Helen, would have ruled in his stead, as had Petra in Nicander's absence. She would have planned a storm of joy to welcome him back.
I held tightly to my new treasure.
And there was also the treasure of Nicander to consider. Did I now own everything Nicander owned?
If so, I was a greater pirate than anyone on earth.
For I had stolen an island.
We were to spend the night in the house of a noble named Axon. The house of Axon was larger than the palace of Nicander. Yet it was spare and unwelcoming. No tapestry brought warmth to the walls and no clay pot spilled over with flowers. I saw no altar. I shivered to come and go from a dwelling where no god watched the threshold.
After Menelaus and Axon exchanged greetings and gifts, Iwas brought forward. “This,” said Menelaus, putting a hand on my head, “is the only surviving child of Nicander of Siphnos. Every ship and farmer, every sheep and slave she owned is gone. Yet the pirates fled before reaching the treasury.”
“So her dowry includes an island and Nicander's
Similar Books
