Nerissa had never felt so desperate. She was frantic to get back little Euredon before Tragus hurt him. Her mind reeled with the many horrors that might take place in the house, either due to negligence or outright malice. But she knew Tragus wouldn’t easily return her son. He never relented once he seethed at some perceived offense. There wasn’t a speck of pity in him. The only change might be if he devised an even harsher punishment.
She had no allies here. Even if she could reach Polis, the law wasn’t on her side. The council would say that Tragus had every right to do as he pleased with his slaves. More so, if he acknowledged Euredon was his son. But if she involved Theoton and the other councilmen, Tragus would become infuriated. She’d never see her child again.
Nerissa prayed all day as she worked. She invoked every God who might have some reason to care. As the day stretched and she received no answer, her desolation grew intense. When summer’s dusk descended suddenly, she beseeched Athena, promising to abandon all claim of a future with her family.
I’ll become a star to light your crown, if only you’ll aid me, she vowed to the goddess. Your help needn’t be direct. I ask only for the wisdom to get around Tragus.
That night, when Tragus came into the shed, Nerissa stood there placidly. She longed to throw herself around his knees, but found the strength to remain still. She knew that it would do no good to beg for a few minutes with her baby. Even asking if Euredon was well might incite Tragus into some new cruelty. So she masked the tremor in her legs by stepping forward, released her chiton’s clasp, and let the garment drop onto the floor.
She knelt, on all fours in the manner of a sheep. Yesterday, that’s how he’d taken her. While he didn’t mind looking at her face now, Tragus liked it best when she acted like a ewe. He got the most excited when she butted back against him. So she stopped clenching her thighs and let the tremor loose. She knelt there quivering while Tragus pulled off his robe. She hoped he’d think that she was trembling with readiness.
She’d worked herself into a trance as soon as it grew dark. By thinking of Andrastus, she’d almost managed to recreate the scene that night after they’d washed ashore on the isle of the blue lotus. But she couldn’t bear to think about Andrastus now. The separation between bliss and torment was too much.
She changed the image to Tenes, the handsome youth on Tenedos who’d taught her how to defeat Circe. Though she’d only been a girl back then, Nerissa knew that Tenes had thought her very beautiful. If it weren’t for the need to save her family, she would have liked to talk with him all afternoon… and maybe do a lot more than talk when night succeeded day.
Tragus was surprised to find her moist. Always before, he’d had to wet her with saliva spat onto his fingers. He grunted with satisfaction. Glancing back over her shoulder, Nerissa managed a small smile. She saw he’d quickly grown aroused. She kept her focus dilated, in order to preserve the lie that he was Tenes. That evening as Nerissa brought the sheep back in the shed, Athena had finally relented. When She’d told Nerissa how, the Goddess’s voice couldn’t have been clearer if they stood side by side.
Tragus plunged into her very hard. Nerissa met it as she always did, without complaint, without a sound at all. After a few more thrusts, she began pushing back against him. This wasn’t new. After those first few times when disgust prevented her, she’d always moved her hips to make him finish faster. But as his pace increased, Nerissa slid her hands toward the post. She shifted weight onto her forearms. It made her rump tilt higher and now she spread her knees. Tragus became even more excited, pumping with great speed. He moaned on every beat. He gripped her by the hips.
Nerissa began to move with her own urgency. She made sounds in rhythm with the noises from behind. She kept them soft. Tragus was vile, but he wasn’t stupid. Even in his keen excitement, he wouldn’t believe that she was equally aroused. He knew she loathed him. Her transition to desire would have to develop gradually. In Tragus’s mind, it would have to be the unwilling product of his great virility.
Tragus responded to the noises. He leaned his greasy forehead against Nerissa’s back, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her hard against him as he ground into her. She let a muffled groan escape. She made it ring with self-censure.
Oh, heartless man, it said. How can you make me feel this ecstasy when I hate you so much?
As Tragus spilled his seed into her, Nerissa kept pushing back against him. She made the motion violent, compelled. She kept it up for half a minute, panting hard, unable to muffle her cries now. Then she called out to Hera. She used the words she’d heard at times from Mother. Though their house in Smyrna only had two rooms, and usually they all slept in the kitchen by the fire, sometimes when Father returned from sea, her parents had gone into the other room and shut the door.
Now, she rocked against Tragus with a swaying motion, as she imagined a loving Mother did with Father. She continued all the time that Tragus lay sweating against her back.
There, Nerissa thought. How’s that for nice?
She didn’t look back now. A woman ashamed of her rebellious libido would be unable to meet his eye, she sensed. Eventually, Tragus got up and pulled his robe back on. He grunted something that might have passed for satisfaction. She knew better than to ask him about Euredon yet. Staying silent was the hardest trial of her life, but she knew it would only impede her progress. Then Tragus would realize she’d only pretended to enjoy coupling with him and that it still was rape. She merely kept her face down as he left.
But in the morning when she brought milk to the house, Nerissa stayed and cleaned the front room thoroughly. She’d known that Euredon wouldn’t be inside, because Tragus hadn’t forbidden her to enter. He’d probably ordered Hesper to keep the baby with her. Nerissa felt frantic to know how Euredon fared, but forced herself to stay away from the cheese shed. She knew it would all come to grief if she didn’t get permission first from Tragus.
He still snored in his bedchamber. Maybe if she went in there and cleaned, the noise would rouse him. The urge was very powerful, but again Nerissa managed to refrain. He’d be angry if she woke him. Besides, today was much too soon to ask, she knew.
Nerissa left the house carrying his robe. The same filthy chiton he’d worn last night. She’d found it lying on the kitchen floor. Now she limped down to the stream and washed the garment. Then she returned to the farm yard, and hung it in the sun to dry.
As she went through her day of tending the sheep and filling the oakum barrels, Nerissa thought only of ways to reclaim Euredon. That night, she acted much the same when Tragus came to rape her. But her cries were a little louder and she managed to look at him as he left.
The next morning, she washed the fabric that sealed his windows. In most houses, such cloths let in sunlight when the shutters weren’t closed. Tragus had let them get so grimy, his house had a perpetual gloom. When Nerissa brought them back and hung them, the room became surprisingly bright. It also smelled better now, since a fresh breeze had blown through while she’d been at the stream.
That night, she didn’t simply kneel in the straw, but stepped toward Tragus and eagerly pulled off his robe. For the first time, she touched his member. It stiffened at once in her hand. She reacted with a guilty look of pleasure. She responded passionately as he took her from behind, then took her from in front, as well.
She left flowers on his table in the morning. She’d found narcissi growing by the stream. She arranged them in an empty wine jar. She’d also brought ripe lemons from the orchard. She cut them into sections, squeezed their juice into a basin, and mixed it with some honey. She’d found a hive behind the ram’s pen, and used a smoking brand to quiet the bees. In Smyrna, Nikos had taught her how to do this. And Mother had showed her how to make this drink, one of the great summer pleasures. She hoped Tragus would like it.
The next day, she made him a soup from wild herbs and parsnips that she found growing on the hillside. His eating bowl was empty when she returned in the morning, though Tragus hadn’t said a word about it. She collected eggs and made an omelet, flavoring it with garlic and onions she found growing where there’d once been a garden.
As she came outside that day, she saw Hesper crossing the farm yard. She decided to risk a greeting. Tragus couldn’t object to such a little thing, could he?
“A fine morning,” she called to Hesper. “I hope you slept well?”
“Not for years. My bones ache always now.”
“I’m sorry. My mother knew a remedy. If I can find the right herbs on the hillside, I’ll make it for you.”
“I doubt it will work. Nothing gives me ease.”
“I hope this does… I meant to thank you, Hesper, but I haven’t seen you until now. You must’ve worked tirelessly to bring me through my fever.”
“I told you why. The same reason I stopped your foot from bleeding. I’m too old to tend the sheep again.”
“I’m glad to have them back. In their own way, they’re admirable creatures. It’s surprising, but I missed them in the years that I was gone.”
“Yes, well… just be sure you do nothing to provoke Tragus. He’ll chop off your whole leg next time, then where will we be? It’ll be the death of me if I have to tend those sheep again.”
“Not to mention taking care of a child. He’s forced that on you, has he?”
“Just the feeding. Sheep-fucker says I don’t have to carry the baby around with me.”
“So he lies there in your shed all day?” Nerissa blanched. It was almost as bad as she’d imagined. “I haven’t heard him crying.”
“He doesn’t mind the floor.”
Maybe this was true. Maybe he liked watching whatever mice and insects happened to pass by. In Nerissa’s few months with Euredon, she’d learned he had a very contemplative nature. He’d stare at her as if he were pondering the mystery of life. On the hillside, his head turned at each motion of birds and butterflies and flowers swaying in the breeze. He seemed to thirst for knowledge about all the things that made this world. Maybe little Euredon harbored a scholar’s soul.
“Then he’s really fine?”
“Well enough. But I’m not to let you see him, so don’t ask.”
“I won’t. Just to know he’s all right, that feels like a great blessing from Olympus… But what about, you know, when he messes? Does Tragus let you wash him?”
“It isn’t necessary. In this warm weather, I don’t wrap him. He’s at the age where he can roll. So after he does his business, he just moves away.
You let him roll all over the floor and never even wash him? Nerissa wanted to shout. But she contained her anger.
“Thank you for watching Euredon,” she said instead. “With all you do already, I know you don’t need extra work. I’m praying that it won’t be for very long.”
That night, after she’d satisfied Tragus, Nerissa looked into his eyes. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood. He’d even touched Nerissa’s face with tenderness.
“Uh, that was good,” he managed to say as he got up.
Tragus was so unused to thanking anyone, the words made a ripple of irritation cross his mouth. But he forced it back into a thin-lipped smile.
“Thank you, Master. For everything, I mean.”
“The food you cooked was good, too. And I liked that drink you made with lemon.”
“It was my favorite as a child,” Nerissa gathered that Tragus had a sweet tooth. She’d have to make him more things flavored with honey. “When we got lemons as a special treat, my brothers and I would try to find bee’s nests in the forest.”
“Yes, honey makes the fruit delicious.”
“You have many lemons on the trees this year, you know. I’ve kept the sheep from eating them. I could harvest them, then sell them in the market. You’d make a lot of extra money.”
“Daphne used to do that…” A pained expression creased his jaw. “We’ll see.”
“If you liked the food and lemon drink, I can make many other things, too.” Nerissa knew she’d better change the subject fast. “My mother taught me how. She was considered the best cook in our village.”
“Mutton and bread is good enough for me.” But Tragus looked interested. He pursed his lips with hunger. “What else can you make?”
“Nothing fancy. Just good, simple food. Lamb stew with onions, for instance. Do you like that?”
“I might. It’s just the time of year for lamb. When we’d cull the he-lambs, my father used to save one for our midsummer feast. He’d have Hesper roast it, but she’d usually manage to burn the cursed thing.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Master. I’m always very careful when I cook. I can make a lamb roast very savory with thyme and chick peas. I can use the lesser cuts for many tasty soups and stews and cutlets. If you bring figs and grapes and mint leaves from the market, I’ll make a nice compote with lemon rind to go along.”
“All right. I’ll give it a try. Tomorrow, I’ll slaughter one of the culls.”
“There’ll be plenty for guests, if you’d like to invite your friends from the tavern.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“But you’ve tasted my food, Master. You know that I can cook. I’m sure that they’ll enjoy it.”
“Those swine? Do you really think I’d have them in my home? Especially now that it’s clean. They’d spill food and wine all over. No, we’d be lucky if that’s all they’d spill. I can just see that oaf Jeremos spewing on the floor.”
“I guess it wasn’t a very good idea… How about your father?”
“That evil demon? Never.”
“But wouldn’t you like him to see how well you’ve done? I mean, I can fix the house up very nice. I’ll clip and wash the sheep. And prune the lemon trees. Maybe straighten up the farm yard, too.”
“For that old shit? You’re crazy if you think I’d lift a finger for him.”
Never mind that all the work would be Nerissa’s.
“You’d show him that you’re better than him, Master. A profitable farm. The finest cheese in Ithaca. And a household staff that honors you.”
“Maybe…” Tragus’s face screwed up with competing emotions. Finally, one of them won out. “All right, we’ll do it. I’d like to see the envy on that bastard’s face.”
In the morning, Tragus sent Hesper to Alalcomenae with a message. She returned that evening with an answer from Tyrus. He’d visit in nine days on the Feast of Aphrodite. In an unusually good mood, Tragus showed Nerissa an amulet he’d bought. It was for little Euredon to protect him from the evil eye. When Tragus went out to the tavern, Nerissa set to work sprucing his house. She cleaned the bedchamber, scrubbed all the cookware, and fixed the wobbly table.
That afternoon, she emptied a huge pile of ashes from the hearth, then set right its shamelessly neglected altar for Hestia. Since the fire had long since died, she rebuilt a pile of kindling sticks. It would be improper to relight the fire from Tragus’s lamp or brazier, so she went outside with a scrap of tinder and a copper knife. While she went about her milking, Nerissa patiently let the sun’s rays concentrate from the bright metal to the tinder. When smoke finally appeared, she blew this into a flame, then shepherded it inside to the waiting hearth. Mother would barely approve, Nerissa knew. She’d say the flame should come from Tragus’s ancestral home. Or failing that, a temple. But both of those originated from Helios, didn’t they? It was the best that she could do.
With permission from Tragus, she made curtains the next evening. For material, Tragus provided one of Daphne’s robes that he’d stored in a chest of cedar.
In the morning, Nerissa cleared and hoed the garden. She fertilized it with dung collected from the sheep. Tragus questioned this odd practice, but Nerissa explained she’d heard of the technique from her adopted brother. In Ionia, farmers used manure from oxen and could reap two crops of wheat a year.
Tragus said that only wealthy men owned cattle here. Still, his father had once claimed the land was much richer in the old days, so maybe that’s how all farmers used to do it. He let Nerissa spread the sheep dung, then chop it into the soil. Though it was late in the season, she planted tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, and lettuce.
The next day, she fixed the house’s shutters, straightened all the clutter from the yard, and even got Tragus to help shore up the ewe shed’s sagging walls.
She cooked a hearty supper each night, then encouraged Tragus to reveal the things that he liked best. Nerissa told him that she knew how to bake bread, if he’d buy a cask of wheaten flour and a footed kiln. While sweeping out the hearth, she’d found clay pieces of the old one. It must have shattered years before. But now she could make loaves for Tragus, far tastier than the cheap sort of barley bread he bought. It would cost him much less, too. Tragus agreed to this, and also brought the produce she’d requested from the Polis market.
Nerissa sheared the sheep, washed and carded the wool, then baled it. She would have spun it, too, if Tragus had a loom. She spent the late afternoon opening his mattress and his pillows, filling them with some of the new wool while she burnt the fetid pile of old stuffing, then sewing them up again.
In the morning, she pruned the orchard, harvested the lemons, and carried a basketful into the house for cooking. She beamed with pleasure when Tragus mentioned how much profit he’d made by having Hesper sell the rest in Polis. Nerissa showed even greater pleasure when Tragus let her back into his bed.
Her reward for all this was a brief visit with little Euredon. He was brown with dirt and covered with bits of straw, but obviously healthy. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to let him crawl around without the tight folds of a swathing cloth. His arms and legs seemed to have grown stronger than most babies. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started walking much earlier than the normal age of two.
When Nerissa picked him up, she was delighted to see how plump he’d grown. He might be unwashed, but he’d been eating very well. He beamed a toothless grin at seeing her and reached to touch her face. He made a sound of pleasure that she hadn’t heard before. He’d changed so much in the half month since she’d last held him. Happiness and grief spilled from her heart.
It was over all too soon. Tragus made her hand Euredon back to Hesper, then take the sheep up to the hillside. Nerissa felt despondent, fearing it might be another month or two before she saw her son again. Or never. Her plan might come to tears. Tragus might sell her away and keep little Euredon. They were chattel slaves, no different than captives taken in a war. The power Tragus held over them was almost absolute. He might still decide to kill her.
By the letter of the law, a master who murdered his slave could suffer banishment or sometimes death. But in practice, masters usually escaped harsh punishment by claiming that the slave died accidentally. It was generally felt that slaves provoked their masters into anger. Loss of the slave’s services was considered punishment enough. In Smyrna, a blood price sufficed as restitution, as if one had killed a neighbor’s cow. But Nerissa remembered one case where a particularly valuable silversmith belonging to Baron Iadros had been killed by thieves. Iadros demanded hanging for these murderers, declaring that they’d offended the Gods by shedding blood during a time of peace.
Nerissa couldn’t sleep that night, though it was a new moon and very dark. She tried to feel more positive the next day, because it was the Feast of Aphrodite. She decked the house with myrtle boughs. She wove fragrant sprigs into her hair. Since it was a holiday, Tragus said she didn’t have to fill the oakum barrels. There were lightning showers, so the sheep stayed in their shed. She cooked all morning and cleaned the house again. Outside, despite the gray weather, the farm looked better than it had in years. The garden that she’d hoed and watered every day sprouted now with neat green rows.
The house smelled wonderful with the myrtle and the food. It smelled even better when Nerissa brought in the roasted lamb. She’d dodged the lightning to turn its spit each quarter hour. Last night, she’d built up a deep bed of hot coals, burning the lemon branches that she’d pruned. Today, despite the intermittent rain, the fire had burned strong and the lamb was roasted to perfection.
The weather cleared that afternoon, but for the next two hours, there was no sign of Tyrus. Tragus stared out the window. He tapped on the table with increasing agitation.
Maybe I should coax him into the bedchamber to ease his tension, Nerissa thought. Last night, she’d done something new he really liked. He’ll want it again, of course. And now, he’ll get even more excited to watch me do it in the daylight. Maybe it won’t be so bad if I imagine Tenes.
But Tragus went outside to pace from the cheese shed to the ram’s pen. By the bitter look on his face, Nerissa knew he was working himself into a fury. She knew better than to approach him now.
Finally, as dusk was dying, an oxcart turned in from the lane. An old man pulled up by the wood pile. He had an egg shaped head, a few wisps of ash colored hair, and a curving nose that looked like it wanted to touch his chin.
“Hesper!” he shouted in a surprisingly strong voice. “Get out here and take care of this ox.”
The old woman scurried from her cheese shed. Nerissa had never seen Hesper move so fast. But since she’d once belonged to Tyrus, Hesper undoubtedly knew that punishment would fall on her in seconds if she didn’t hurry to obey his order.
Tyrus didn’t greet his son. Jumping down, he ignored the hand that Tragus held out to help. Nerissa almost pitied Tragus, he looked so uncomfortable. It was pathetic. He desperately craved approval, but loathed the source from which it wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to do with the hand he’d offered. He just stood with it extended as if to show the farmyard.
“You’re hours late,” Tragus said at last. His voice was like a humiliated child, wheedling for sympathy.
“You didn’t expect me to travel in the storm?”
“Many others went out on the road. I saw them dressed in finery, on their way to join their families.”
“What do I care if fools risk their deaths. I came when the time was more propitious.”
“The food’s grown cold.”
“Then tell your girl to warm it. Or are you such a weakling you can’t even control a maimed slave?” The old man grinned evilly. “That’s right. Did you think I hadn’t heard about the seven years that she was missing. But the real wonder is she didn’t use an axe, herself, and let death free her from the shame of being your bed slave.”
“In fact, she likes it very much. If you don’t believe me, we can wager and I’ll prove it. You’ll see how well my slave obeys me.”
“Are you trying to disgust me? I haven’t eaten yet.”
They wrangled all through the meal. As Nerissa served, she saw why Tragus never had a chance to become a decent man. His father was despicable. He sneered at every word from Tragus. He had nothing but complaints about the food, yet he ate serving after serving. He stuck his face down in the expensive metal plates that Tragus had bought to impress him.
When she brought the next course, Tyrus stood and farted in her face, then grinned at Tragus like it was the height of wit. He spat across the table. It slithered down the wall. He hadn’t bothered aiming for the window. He urinated out the doorway, rather than walk a few steps to the privy. It wasn’t even raining any more. He blew his nose into his hand, and though she’d also seen Tragus do this many times, he’d at least step outside, fling off the snot, then wipe his hand on his chiton. But Tyrus actually licked his fingers with enjoyment. Nerissa gaped, then had to quickly turn away when Tyrus noticed.
“Get over here!” he shouted.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that we don’t have that habit where I come from.” He continued glaring at her like a viper. Nerissa felt compelled to say something more. “I mean, my father and my brothers, on our boat, they’d press a nostril closed and empty the other one over the rail. I imagine all men have coarse ways. I meant no disrespect.”
“Of course you did. How dare you look at me like I’m repulsive. I’ll teach you better manners.”
“Nerissa is my slave,” said Tragus in a firmer voice than he’d managed all night. “I’ll be the one to discipline her, when required.”
“And you don’t think it’s necessary now? No wonder your slaves run off whenever they want.”
“I got her back, didn’t I? I punished her and now I have her full respect.”
“You’re an even bigger fool than I thought. You let your slaves scoff at the man who raised you? Right in your own house? Right to our faces? Imagine what they say behind your back.”
“I don’t have to imagine. I know exactly what they said about you in Alalcomenae. And it wasn’t only slaves. Everybody thought you were disgusting. Eating your own snot was just the start.”
“That happens to be a sensible and healthy habit. You never learned anything I taught you. It preserves the body’s fluids.”
“That’s not the only fluid you preserve, I hear.”
“You little shit! What are you trying to imply?”
“Hesper told me what you like to do. And she served so long as your bed slave, she ought to know.”
“She lies. She wants revenge, because I used to make her do the thing that she accuses me of doing.”
“Between the two of you, I’ll take her word.”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise. You have the loyalty of a bloodsucking vermin, Tragophagus.”
“People call me Tragus now.”
“Yes, I’ve heard, and I despise it. I gave you a perfectly respectable name, and you chop it like you chopped that insolent girl’s foot… I’ll tell you what. Sell her to me, and there’ll be no question of who’s to discipline her. You paid, what, fifty drachmai? I’ll give you sixty, though she’s older now.”
“Older, but much better looking.”
“Yes, and with half a foot. Didn’t I just say that? Or is that too much for your addled mind to remember?”
“No, I remember. I also remember that you have such tastes. I heard you bought a onelegged girl to replace Hesper. Whatever happened to her?”
“Sold her at a goodly profit. You’re right about one thing. There are men who pay handsomely for amputees.”
“May Hades put your shade into a deep cess pit! You won’t be selling this one. She stays with me.”
“You’re soft. You always were. Haven’t you learned that only fools allow themselves to care about a woman? They’re only put on earth to punish men, ever since that first one Pandora. This one will plague you just the same.”
“This dinner’s over. You’re welcome to stay the night, but I don’t think you’ll get much sleep. Not with the noises I’ll be making with Nerissa.”