Nerissa wrapped Eugenia in her torn chiton, took her by the hand, picked up her sling, and walked out of the cheese shed. She retrieved the still sleeping Eury from Hesper, then went into the house. She wanted nothing from here, but knew she’d need the clothes and fibula and lyre that Tragus had given her. They’d finance her escape. She also needed to change from this peplos, because she’d stained its hem with blood when she’d knelt to check Tragus.
I should cut my hair short, she thought as she saw the scissors on her bureau. No, it won’t do any good. I’ll still be very recognizable. Hesper will describe a pregnant woman with half a foot, accompanied by a two year old boy and ten year old girl. And if there’s any doubt it’s me, they’ll just look for the scars across my breasts.
She put on a different peplos, then also got out one of Daphne’s robes still stored in a chest. She persuaded Eugenia to change into it, then led her back to the horse cart. She lay down Eury, then reattached the traces that she’d started to take off.
“Sheep-fucker’s dead, isn’t he?” asked Hesper. She hadn’t moved from her log. “And now you have to flee.”
Her voice was back to normal now, a quiet rasp. That’s why Hesper was talking so loudly before, Nerissa realized. She was trying to warn Tragus that he should stop before I saw him.
“Yes,” she said to Hesper. “You should come, too. You might be blamed.”
“I’ll stay. Who’d believe I have the strength to kill him? Besides, it means that I belong to Tyrus now. Everybody knows that’s the last thing I’d want.”
“Then come with me.”
“You’ll be lucky if they only take your head. You stupid girl. Your mother was right -you never should’ve stirred the swamp.”
“He was raping Eugenia. It was bad enough what I endured. And you, when you were younger. How could I let the same things happen to her?”
“Those who try to change the Fates’ designs only make them worse. Old Tyrus will be Eugenia’s master now. You can’t imagine the things he likes to do. Miklos will suffer, too. Tyrus enjoys abusing boys as much as girls.”
“Does he? I’ll have to take Miklos with me. You should come, too.
“I’d be admitting guilt by running with you. Life has little flavor for me now, but I don’t want to end it strangling on a rope. Is it too much to ask for a more dignified death than shitting myself while everybody watches?”
Nerissa didn’t say another word. She climbed into the cart alongside Eugenia, who still was shaking like she’d just stepped from an icy stream. Nerissa hugged Eugenia until the girl’s trembling eased, then picked up Eury, who’d now awoken to the anguished sobs.
The lingering darkness in Nerissa’s mind told her it would be best to silence Hesper. With Tragus’s field slaves rented down the road, the murders might not be discovered for a week. No guests or deliveries were expected, and Tragus didn’t have the sort of friends who frequently dropped by. Certainly, no one ever came to visit Hesper. A well placed stone, a quick and painless end to the old woman’s aching years would be the safest course… Nerissa couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Hesper never did me any harm. Other than tell Tragus those times I escaped. And she had no choice. He might have beaten her to death. In fact, after he put the axe to me, she saved my life. It may have been for selfish reasons, but the truth is, everyone is selfish. We all do what’s least painful. Like I’m doing now.
Hesper would report her crime, but Nerissa simply couldn’t kill her. Not so much for the sake of her own soul. She couldn’t do it in front of Eury. For some reason, he adored the querulous old woman. And poor Eugenia didn’t need further trauma. So Nerissa just left Hesper sitting on her log, flicked the reins, and didn’t look back as Arion pulled the cart.
Hesper would soon stir herself to report the murder. She’d want to be blameless in this matter. But at the pace she walked, it would take her all evening to reach the nearest neighbor.
It’s another reason I can’t leave Miklos here, realized Nerissa. Hesper will send him with a message.
But Hesper was right about one thing. A jury would say that anyone who fled the farm had participated in the murder. As she came in earshot of the pasture, she called to Miklos and waved him down. It occurred to her that Miklos was the same age as little Mavros would have been had he survived.
I should give him a choice to stay or come with me. But isn’t anything better than winding up the slave of Tyrus?
“Tragus is dead,” Nerissa simply told him. “We’re leaving the farm and I’d like you to come. We won’t be back.”
“What about the ewes?” This was Miklos’s only concern.
“They’ll be all right. The weather’s fine, there’s plenty of good grass in the field, and water in the creek, so they won’t stray.”
“What if wolves come?”
“I haven’t seen one down from the hills in years. And the lambs are big enough that there’s no danger from eagles.”
“I’m glad… Where will we go?”
“I don’t know yet. I have to think about it. Before we leave, you haven’t stashed some treasured keepsake in the ewe shed, have you?”
“No, Mistress.”
“I keep telling you, I’m not your owner. Please just call me Nerissa. Or Aunt Nerissa, if you like.”
“Thank you, M-- You’re very kind.” He climbed into the back of the cart. “All set, Aunt Nerissa.”
From Eugenia’s teary face and Nerissa’s frozen expression, Miklos could see that something very bad had happened. They wouldn’t be grief-stricken if Tragus had died a natural death. Miklos didn’t ask why they were running. He’d been a slave since birth, so he knew better than to expect explanations. Nerissa also knew it was better not to tell him. Miklos must have no knowledge of the murder, in the event that they were captured. She didn’t have to tell Eugenia to stay quiet. She wondered if the girl would ever speak again.
“Good.” She flicked the reins. This time, she did glance back. She’d done so much to build the farm. For two years now, it had been a good life. She’d miss this place. “We’re off, may all the Gods protect us.”
Nerissa headed toward Polis. With her cart, she could reach the port in half an hour. There was still plenty of light and Arion showed no sign of flagging. Maybe she and the children could leave Ithaca before the alarm went out about Tragus. If the tides weren’t favorable to sail this evening, there was a good chance that the search tomorrow morning would concentrate toward Alalcomenae. Hesper knew she’d gone in that direction on her last two flights.
They’d probably try the cattle farm of Architalos first. But Nerissa had known better than to seek help from Berenice. She couldn’t put her friend’s life at risk. Berenice was still a slave. They’d execute her, too.
Not finding her with Berenice, they’d check the Cave of Loizos. Hesper knew that she’d spent seven years there, living with the hermit. Nerissa hoped that he wouldn’t get caught up in this.
She decided to seek out the navigator Psatos. No one would remember their connection. Inside the spice shop, he’d mentioned that he was embarking in the morning on a ship called the Euphremia. If word hadn’t reached Polis about the murder yet, she could pay Psatos with her silver fibula for passage on his ship. It would be more than enough for him to take her and the children to Tyre.
She found the Euphremia easily enough, but Psatos wasn’t on it. A sailor confirmed that they were sailing on the morning tide. Nerissa didn’t dare try to buy berths from anyone but Psatos. The sailor directed her to the street where Psatos lived. He said the house was painted a dark blue/green, like deep water. She’d know it also by a large pear tree in front.
Nerissa returned to the wagon where she’d told Eugenia and Miklos to wait. Eugenia had finally stopped crying. She’d gone in back to sit with Miklos, who had his arm around her.
Nerissa clicked her tongue at Arion. Her good horse promptly started up the hill. As they turned onto a residential street, Nerissa kept the cart to a moderate pace, as if their errand were routine. Recognizing her, a few pedestrians nodded polite greetings. It wasn’t the hour when she usually came to Polis, and she’d never brought the two young slaves before, but no one seemed to think her presence unusual.
She quickly found the house of Psatos. His pear tree was heavy with fruit. Their shape was similar to hers now that the growing infant was well along. She had a craving to eat one of the pears, but she resisted. There was plenty of food on the cart. They’d eat most of it tonight, inviting Psatos to join their feast. The raisin pastry and the garden salad would keep a day or two, despite this heat. She’d take them on the voyage.
Holding Eury, she knocked on the door. A tall, curly haired slave answered. Nerissa couldn’t help noticing that he was a very pretty youth. His features were almost feminine. His delicately shaped lips and long eye lashes would be the envy of most women.
He went to summon Psatos, but didn’t invite Nerissa inside. Psatos beamed with pleasure when he came to the door. Evidently, he was genuinely glad to see Nerissa again so soon. He ruffled Eury’s hair. But when Nerissa asked if she might buy passage on his voyage, Psatos refused. He claimed that the Euphremia’s owner didn’t allow him to take passengers aboard.
“Especially not women. My patron Aetes believes that females are bad luck at sea.”
“I’d pay you well.” Nerissa indicated the silver fibula she wore. “Aetes doesn’t have to know.”
“I’d like to help you, but my men will talk.” Psatos looked past her shoulder at the cart. His eyes hardened as he considered what two young slaves might be doing on it. And why Nerissa was willing to pay a premium to suddenly leave Ithaca. “You’d do better to approach a captain who’s the owner of his ship.”
“I have permission from my husband, if that’s what has you worried.”
As far as Psatos knew, Tragus really was her husband. Most people in Polis assumed he’d freed and married her. Which meant that while she’d never be a citizen, she could mix into the population of valued foreigners allowed to live on Ithaca. That’s why they treated her so respectfully these days.
“Who said I’m worried? As I told you, it’s my patron’s rule.”
“Couldn’t you oblige me just this once for old time’s sake? Tragus wants me to bring my sister from Smyrna to join our household. I can reach there easily from Tyre. He’s sent two of our slaves along to serve me on the voyage.”
“I’m sorry, but no. Even if you bribed my crew not to tell Aetes, the Euphremia’s very full this trip. We have no extra room.”
Nerissa didn’t press. She wished Psatos well on his journey and departed. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He was already suspicious. He must think she was running from Tragus with her slaves. She didn’t want him to guess her crime was murder. The sympathy he’d expressed about her treatment on the Thallia appeared to be quite limited. It certainly didn’t extend to helping in a crisis.
She’d have to return to the port and ask if any other ships were sailing on the morning tide. She already knew the tide was in tonight and there was little wind. It all was in the Gods’ hands now. If Olympus retained a trace of pity for her, she’d be able to leave Ithaca before Hesper spread word about Tragus. If not, there’d be as little mercy for her as any of her family knew while dying.
Nerissa turned the cart and headed down the hill. The sun was setting now, but there still was plenty of light to recognize faces. The wool merchant Leptos hailed her as she approached. His wife Theodora smiled and gave a friendly wave. What rotten luck, running into two of the few people in Polis who knew that she was still a slave.
“Sorry, can’t stop,” Nerissa called. “I stayed too long doing my errands. Tragus will wonder where I am.”
Theodora’s pleasant expression dropped. It was clear she thought Nerissa had been very rude. Leptos glared, equally offended. “The gall of that pallakeia!” he muttered to Theodora. “After we treated her almost as an equal.”
“Tragus doesn’t like me to drive on the road in darkness,” Nerissa added as she passed. Let them think what they wanted. She didn’t have time to stop and be polite. “The light will fail soon, and this horse is very slow.”
She continued to the port, then wasted half an hour learning that no other ship was due to sail in the morning. She thought of the shipyard’s owner Anapater, who seemed to remember her with fondness. Maybe he could get her onto one of his customers’ ships. But he was a council member. It was very improbable that he’d take such a risk for her. It seemed far more likely that he’d turn her over to his friend Theoton. Her former owner definitely wasn’t a man to trust.
Nerissa decided to ask among the fishing fleet. It anchored across the bay. By the time she reached their pier, they’d be coming in from sea. Surely some man in need of silver would agree to take them off Ithaca with no questions asked. Once she reached the mainland, she’d have more time to find a ship leaving for a distant port before pursuit from Ithaca caught up.
After she’d turned Arion again and gone back up the hill, another man hailed her. With the setting sun in her eyes, she couldn’t see who it was. Now she could make out the silhouettes of two men, one tall, one unusually short. The one who’d called had a very familiar voice. Friendly, finding the world a senseless, but amusing place. It reminded Nerissa of her grandfather. But that was impossible. He’d died when she was seven.
“A fine evening, Nerissa,” he said as if she’d answered. “Sir, it’s our old friend, the young lady who read your poem so well.”
As she drew close, Nerissa recognized Philemon. He’d looked short because he was so bent. His head was at the level of a sundial in front of someone’s house. Beside him was Homer. He appeared a good deal older now, his beard streaked through with silver. He must be forty-five or so, approaching the age when men who’ve survived this long are regarded as wise and venerable. But just as handsome as nine years ago, except for those strange eyes. The sun’s low rays reflected from them like the pearly inner surface of a scallop shell. This time, Nerissa wouldn’t dream of driving past without saying goodbye.
“It’s very good to see you both,” she said from her halted cart. “I’ve often thought of you.”
“We hear that you’ve done well,” said Philemon. “People say your farm is prospering, and that you have a fine family, too. Just the other day, Linus the butcher mentioned you’re expecting another child. Isn’t that right, sir?”
Homer said nothing. He seemed lost in thought. If he’d noticed Nerissa’s voice, he hadn’t turned to face her.
“It happens that I’m leaving Ithaca tomorrow,” Nerissa said. “I’m glad to have this chance to wish you well. Has there been any good news about, er--”
“About the court case?” finished Philemon. “No, in fact it’s worse. Jeremos’s father died. He’s inherited a goodly sum.”
“Why would that make things worse? If he’s become rich, you’d think Jeremos wouldn’t care about collecting Penelope’s bride price.”
“Come, now. You’ve seen enough of life to understand that isn’t how it works. Now that he’s wealthy, Jeremos is even more determined to protect his honor. Maybe Smyrnan society has avoided the sin of greed, but here on Ithaca, rich men are always after more of everything.”
“No, it’s the same.”
“What did I tell you? Human nature. Even worse, Jeremos now has ample silver to bribe the council. Any day now, we expect they’ll declare my master must forfeit himself.”
“What, you mean Homer must become Jeremos’s bondsman?”
“That’s right. He has no remaining assets to satisfy these debts they claim. I offered to take his place, but the council says I have no value.”
“But what of Theoton? Couldn’t he advance Homer the money? He doesn’t want to lose such a gifted tutor for his sons, does he?”
“Theoton won’t help. His wife fears that the court’s decision will bring scandal to her household. She said my master’s easily replaced. In her opinion, one pedant’s as worthless as another. She’s ordered us to leave.”
“That’s terrible. Where will you go?”
“Not to Jeremos!” Homer spoke for the first time. “I’d rather dwell in Tartarus forever than turn myself over to that jackal.”
“But you can’t just walk the streets until they seize you,” said Nerissa. “Maybe you should come with me.”
“You needn’t concern yourself with my troubles.” Homer sounded as proud as ever. “I still have many friends.”
Philemon sadly shook his head. He couldn’t say it aloud, but the message was clear. All friends had deserted Homer years ago.
“Sir, maybe we should consider leaving Ithaca with her,” said Philemon.
“Never. May I be despised by all Olympus if I run away from trouble. I’ll fight this battle until its cursed end.”
“Maybe the battle takes you to a different field,” said Nerissa. She couldn’t let this brilliant man wind up the slave of an oaf who’d tormented him for decades. “There’s something I must tell you. I’m in a great amount of trouble. If I don’t get off Ithaca by morning, I’ll be executed. I fear for what will happen to my little boy and my two charges. Not to mention the child growing in me.”
“What?” said Homer sharply. “What is this trouble, girl?”
As quickly as possible, she told him what had happened.
“Why are you still waiting?” Homer snapped at Philemon. “Help me up onto the cart. Can’t you see there’s no time to dawdle?”
Nerissa coughed to hide a smile. Then realizing Homer couldn’t see it, she dropped her hand. But her instinct had been right. She’d guessed she could convince Homer to leave Ithaca if she made him be the hero.
“Where are we going, sir?” asked Philemon.
“To my boat, of course.”
“What boat?”
“The racing boat they gave me for winning the Hekatombaion poetry festival at Athens. You forgot about that one, didn’t you? When the Iliad was new and Penelope fell in love with me. I kept the Tachytata because she’s just like one my father owned. She’s the fastest thing on Ithaca -- that’s how she got her name, of course. When you feel the wind and spray lash over you, it’s like you can become a great sea eagle swooping over his domain.”
“I’m sure she’s very fast, sir, but years ago, the court awarded your boat to Jeremos.”
“Euphemeite! I may have lost my sight and property, but I haven’t lost my wits. Of course I know that cur has title to the Tachytata now. What I meant is that she’s still kept at the northern pier. Unless that jackal’s ruined her, she can outrun all pursuit.”
“With a following wind. We don’t have oarsmen, sir.”
“I can feel the wind freshening right now. Stop flapping your gums and help me up. We leave tonight by moonlight.”
“Here, let me give you an arm, sir,” Nerissa said as she climbed down. “In case you haven’t noticed lately, Philemon might need some help up, himself.”
With assistance from Miklos, Nerissa boosted both Homer and Philemon onto the cart’s bench. She waited until Miklos resumed his spot in back with his arm around Eugenia, then clicked at Arion to get him underway. But as they turned to the north, a woman came running up the street.
“Stop, you criminals!” she cried.
Nerissa blanched. Not that discovery should be a great surprise. Now that she’d returned to the familiar waters of ill fortune, she should have known that the worst possible things would always happen. Naturally, word had spread about her villainy before she could leave Ithaca. Someone must have come to see Tragus, after all. The visitor must have been on horseback. He must have hurried into town to spread news about this brutal murder.
Nerissa slapped the reins to speed up Arion as the woman screamed at them again. At least, she could outdistance one angry harridan. Soon enough, there’d be a mob of men, and they’d be armed. Nerissa tossed her sling out of the cart, so she wouldn’t be tempted to use it. Then maybe they’d spare Eury, Eugenia, and Miklos.
“Fine then, run like cowards!” screeched the woman. “Run like the miserable thieves you are.”
As Nerissa looked back at her, the woman stopped at a cross street leading to the west. In the last rays of the setting sun, Nerissa recognized her. It was Dzunga. But she was rail thin now. Her face was drawn, her hair was cropped above her ears. It looked thin and dull, anything but the sleek black tresses Nerissa remembered. Theoton’s household slaves were well fed, so it couldn’t be from hunger. The last time Nerissa saw her, Dzunga had been downcast, but still voluptuous. She must have sickened after Phyllis had her sterilized. Either that, or the mutilation had left her with no appetites of any kind.
At that moment, Nerissa saw a youth catch up to Dzunga. With harsh words and a stern hand pointing down the street, he sent her home. Then, he ran after the horse cart, himself. Nerissa slapped the reins again, but the youth called out for Homer.
“Wait, sir, I’d like to say goodbye. Please stop. I have your things.”
The voice was deep, but it cracked on the last word. Nerissa stopped her cart. She’d realized who this was. The youth was tall, brown haired, and thin. Tall like his father, but too young to have much muscle. Still, he looked the picture of good health. The setting sun lit up his cheeks with a rosy glow. His narrow frame was only the normal thinness of sprouting adolescents.
“I packed this satchel for you, sir,” the youth said to Homer as he caught up. “I put in all your scrolls, your favorite stylus, your extra clothes, your drinking bowl, and plenty of new parchment.”
“But your mother insisted we leave all of that behind,” said Philemon.
“Don’t worry about my mother. I’m a man, and I’ll say what my tutor may keep as his property.”
“Thank you, Vasiledes,” said Homer. “And thank you for bidding me goodbye. I wish you the best of fortune with your life.”
“You, as well, wise sir. You were the best tutor I ever had. I’ll miss our talks about the way of heroes. My little brother liked you, too.”
“That’s kind of you to say. And it might even be believable if young Dichophilos hadn’t nodded off every time I lectured on the Trojan War.”
Vasiledes laughed, handed the satchel over, then hopped onto the cart and clasped Homers’ arms. He also said a warm farewell to Philemon. Nerissa could see that he was still a very considerate young man. Most children of the rich wouldn’t have defied their mothers to return a hired man’s possessions. And they certainly wouldn’t have bothered saying farewell to a slave.
“It makes me very glad to see what a fine young man you’ve turned out,” Nerissa said to him. “Stay with us a while as I drive. You always had a good heart, Vasy.”
“No one calls me that any more. It’s Vasiledes.”
He sat up very straight as he gazed at Nerissa. But there was no arrogance in the young man’s tone, only manly pride. Of course she realized that he was no child any more. He must have had his coming of age ceremony in the Temple of Ares earlier this year.
“I’m sorry, Vasiledes. I know that you’re a man. It’s just, you were very little the last time I saw you. I’ve thought of you so often over the years, I guess I’ll always remember your beautiful, soft face as you slept in the nursery.” She could picture it exactly on that morning half an hour before Tragus dragged her away. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”
“Of course, Nessa. I think about you all the time. In my entire life, you were the only one who showed me any tenderness.”
“That’s not true. Your father loves you very much. I’m sure you remember how he sang to you and played and told you stories when you were small. And naturally you couldn’t know this, but he’d kiss your brow when you were sleeping.”
“I remember the singing and the stories. But that all stopped once you were gone. After that, he rarely came into the nursery. I think he was ashamed.”
“It wasn’t about you, Vasiledes. He was very proud of you.”
“I suppose I always knew that. But it was hard to have my father’s love snatched away so suddenly. In time, I came to realize Papa couldn’t bear to come into the nursery, or even see me outside it, because I reminded him of you. I asked Praegon why you were sent away. He said that you did something very bad. I never believed him, of course. I knew that it must be my mother’s fault.”
“It was both of ours. I wasn’t blameless in this, Vasiledes. I’d started to fall in love with your father. Your mother wasn’t wrong to feel I threatened her household’s peace and stature.”
“That’s very generous of you to say. But I’ve long since learned the truth. My mother is a hateful woman. My father knows this, too. Their alliance is political, not personal.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were sent away because of my Uncle Telander’s vote.”
“Telander is your uncle?”
Nerissa remembered the well-born councilman who’d been at Theoton’s feast along with Aetes and Anapater. She’d never seen him again. Now that she thought about it, this seemed odd if he was a close relative.
“Yes, on my mother’s side,” said Vasiledes. “He’s why Papa married her. As the most direct descendent of our ancient king, Telander’s vote holds much weight on the council. And as you probably remember, my father hoped to change the government of Ithaca. He’d cultivated Telander, which brought Aetes along, as well. With his friend Anapater, Papa now controlled four votes. Often, he could win support from Nylos, too, because we bought much leather to use in our shields and armor. And Ductor, who owns the linen mill. But then, when Stenarch accused Papa of treason, Aetes’s vote melted away.”
“Yes, but your father said he wasn’t worried. Stenarch couldn’t buy the other votes, because that would be a capital crime, too.”
“It was a lot closer than Papa let on. Nylos and Ductor both were wavering. If Telander deserted my father, they would have, too. Seeing her chance, my mother threatened that if Papa ever saw you again, she’d get Telander to switch his vote.”
“Ah, that explains a lot. I always wondered why Theoton didn’t buy me back from Tragus.”
“He isn’t an unfeeling man, you know. I wouldn’t want you to keep that as your lasting image of my father.”
“I know he’s not. He did what he thought he had to.”
“Papa loves this island more than anything. He believed he had no choice but let you go, or he’d never be able to lead the council in a new direction.”
“And did he, Vasiledes? I’ve never heard anything about reforms.”
“He’d like to, but he’s stymied. The votes are still the same. Jeremos may have lived most of his life in very common circumstances, but now that he’s rich and sitting on the council, he’s thoroughly determined to preserve the oligarchy’s rights.”
She felt better for the explanation. So Theoton hadn’t been unfeeling, after all. He’d been forced to make a choice. Love of country had prevailed over romantic love. Again, she wouldn’t have the choice and subsequent events be any different, if it meant she wouldn’t have her children. She felt content to let the matter lie.
“What of you, Vasiledes?” she asked. “I see you’ve grown into a strong young man. Do you still plan to captain a ship?”
“Yes. It’s always been my goal to visit distant nations. So I’ve trained my body hard. I know that there’ll be many challenges, both at sea and ashore. I want to learn if there’s a land where happiness is the normal state of men.”
“That’s a very worthy goal. I hope you find this place, and spread its lessons.”
“I plan to… I have you to thank for helping me grow strong. I always remembered what you said about a captain. That he must be a good swimmer, so he can rescue drowning crewmen. I won the swimming competitions every year among my classmates. And this year, I won at the natatorium when men of all ages competed.”
“Congratulations. I know you’ll make an excellent captain. Your men will love you well.”
“I hope so, Nessa. I mean, Nerissa. If I’m such a prat to insist you call me Vasiledes, the least I can do is use your full name.”
“I don’t mind. I always liked it. Your father used to call me Nessa, too… How is he, anyway? Apart from politics, I mean.”
“He’s very wel