‘That depends … When I am offered something at a reduced price, I smell it carefully before I buy. Do have some of these sugared figs, they really are delicious.’
Alkibiades said, ‘Am I to take it that you do not trust me, for all your protestations of affection? I am cut to the heart, and the birds no longer sing for me,’ and took a handful of the figs. I felt as though I were watching two men play a game of skill.
Tissaphernes said, ‘My dear, I love you like a brother, as I know you do me. Have I not called this paradise by your name, that you and all men may know the delight that I have in your company when we walk in it together? But a man does not necessarily trust his brother with his neck.’
I thought that there would be a quarrel flaring between them at that; among my own people it would have been a matter for knives. But they were both laughing like two men who perfectly understand each other. But I think now that they only thought they understood each other …
Then Alkibiades said, ‘Listen, the matter is simple enough. Half a drachma a day is all that Athens pays, and Athens, you will admit, have a long naval experience. The Athenian War Council — of course they may be wrong — consider that high pay has a demoralising effect on troops on active service.’
Tissaphernes nodded, and with his wine cup refilled, began to eat sugared rose-leaves, very delicately, one at a time. ‘This is also your opinion?’
‘On the whole, I think, yes … I would suggest also that even this should be paid irregularly, and kept somewhat in arrears, as a guard against desertion.’
Tissaphernes nodded. ‘Very sound reasons, my dearest friend, and now — what is the true one?’
Alkibiades crooked his finger for one of the slaves to refill his wine cup, and did not answer until it had been done and he had taken a mouthful of the wine. ‘I think the results might well be — disappointing, for Persia, if Sparta was to finish Athens too quickly and too completely.’
‘How so?’
‘Oh I know it would be easily done.’ Alkibiades seemed to be talking into thin air, much as a man talks when he is alone and talking to himself. ‘You have but to bring up this Phoenician fleet that you are building, and a regiment or two of Persian troops, and you could crush Athens once and for all.’ He held up his hand and clenched it slowly into a quivering fist as though all Athens were inside it. And it seemed to me for an evil moment that I saw the blood dripping between his fingers.
‘So?’ said Tissaphernes softly.
‘So you are left with Sparta the supreme master of Hellas; and all the Greek states and islands would flock back to the Lion Standard. You, who wish to be the Lords of Hellas, would be confronted by a Hellas united under Spartan command. That, my friend, would be a tough nut to crack; and with no Athens to help you, because Athens will be dead. Hard fighting, there’d be then.’ I thought there was a shimmer of laughter in his voice. ‘You might even have to put on again that beautiful inlaid fish-scale corselet you were showing me the other day.’
I did not think, from the look on the Satrap’s face, that he cared much for the thought, after the silken years. He cleared his throat. ‘And what has all this to do with half a drachma a day, paid in arrears?’
‘It will cause disaffection and a fine variety of other troubles in the Spartan Navy; and if there is no increase of pay to be expected, their ranks of rowers will not be swelled by deserters from the Athenian benches. Hold out hope to Spartans, of the arrival of the Phoenician fleet — not too much hope, just enough to keep them tame to the fist. But on the whole I would suggest that there is no point in spending men or money in intervening on one side or the other, when it is only a matter of waiting while they wear themselves out against each other. When both sides are exhausted — what simpler than to step in and annex the whole of Greece?’ He looked as though a sudden thought had come to him in mid-speech. ‘Indeed it might be best to give just that feather-weight, that merest breath, of extra help to Athens.’
Tissaphernes raised his brows over those full dark eyes of his. ‘Explain.’
‘As a sea power,’ Alkibiades said, ‘Athens will be content with naval supremacy; if you handle them in the right way, they will held to subjugate the Hellenes of the Ionian islands and mainland to the Great King. But Sparta —’ I remember how he paused, and again the flicker of amusement came. ‘Sparta is a land force with a certain — missionary zeal. They intend to save the islands from you as well as from Athens.’
They looked at each other a long moment, and then it was as though by common consent, Tissaphernes had shut the games’ board. ‘So. Of all companions you are the most enthralling and delightful in your conversation.’
‘The pleasures of good conversation depend as much upon the listener as upon the speaker.’ Alkibiades smiled. ‘May we now turn ourselves to pleasure of another kind, from your dancing girls?’ He glanced round as he spoke. And he saw me looking at him before I could look away; before I could guard my face. And his eyes widened on me; they were full of cold blue light between the darkened lids; they held me so that I could not break free but must give him back look for look. And he knew that I had heard and understood the main part of what had passed.
At the same instant Tissaphernes snapped his fingers for us to begin.
My fingers and my lips felt numb, my head empty of all save the cruel probing blueness of the Athenian’s eyes. But somehow they must have remembered their own skill though I forgot; for I found that I was playing, and the other girls had risen from their cushions and begun to dance. Their skirts swung out, pretty and spangled, the little bells round their ankles chimed foolishly above the throaty softness of the flute; and I played on and on, alone with fear.
When the dancing was done, Alkibiades applauded lazily and threw nuts and sweetmeats among the girls — he had learned all the Persian ways — and I felt his glance flicker over me and leave me cold, though this time I would not meet it. It seemed that they had returned to the old talk even while they watched the dance, for Tissaphernes was saying, ‘… Tomorrow, then, I will get in my confidential scribes, and we will have these slight amendments made to the treaty; purely as a matter of interest between ourselves.’
Alkibiades took something from the folds of his sash. ‘But meanwhile, — seeing the beauty of this pavilion as it grew through the winter to open like a flower on the edge of spring, I sent back to Miletus for this. Among my own poor treasures it was the only one I felt to be worthy of such a setting. I had meant to ask you to accept it from me this evening, that it may stand here to grace other pleasant evenings when I have gone my way. Now let it also be a gift to seal the bargain between us, if you will have it so.’
Tissaphernes received it ceremoniously, speaking of its beauty and the delicacy of its workmanship; and leaned forward to kiss Alkibiades on the mouth, as men greet their equals among the Persians; and after, Alkibiades kissed him on the cheeks as men greet those above them. He said, ‘It is a poor gift, but I am a poor man in these days. If it finds beauty in your eyes I am content.’
There was a tiny click, as the Satrap set his gift on the tiled floor, and cold with fear as I was, curiosity made me glance that way. The thing stood among the fruit bowls and tall wine jug between them; a figurine of some moon-pale pinkish stuff such as rose-quartz, that seemed to gather up into itself all the light of the palm oil lamps. It was too far off to make out the detail of a thing so small. But whatever it was, part of me knew suddenly in the little silence, that to Tissaphernes it was a gift to win his favour, and to Alkibiades it was more like the dice thrown down in a game played for high stakes. But all the rest of me was taken up with cold scurrying fear of what would happen to me now. Would Alkibiades consider a slave too small a matter to trouble about, even one who knew what had passed between him and the Satrap? Or was he one of those who attend to even the smallest detail? If he were, then how would the end come for me? A thong round the neck in a dark passage? A fall from a window?
I heard Tissaphernes
say that he could only accept the gift, if his guest would honour him by accepting one in return. That is the Persian way; among them it is unthinkably bad manners for any man save the Great King to accept a gift without giving one in return. A bribe is different. And suddenly I saw how carefully this gift had been chosen, beautiful to flatter Tissaphernes’ taste, but far too slight to be counted as a bribe by a Satrap. Under my lids I saw Tissaphernes’ hand in its loose silken sleeve, gesturing as though to include anything in the garden-house, even the garden-house itself. ‘All that I have is yours, my beloved friend. Choose, then, what you would have in memory of this evening, and if it is not here, then speak, and my slaves shall fetch it for you.’
‘The Satrap is the prince of givers,’ Alkibiades said. ‘But for a man such as myself, a wanderer on the face of the earth, it is best to travel light. Give me your gift in another kind.’
‘You have but to ask, and it is yours,’ said Tissaphernes. But I thought he sounded a little uneasy. When men ask for unnamed gifts, it is time to go warily.
And then Alkibiades said, ‘Give me the services of your flute girl to play me into sleep tonight, for sleep is slower in coming to me, these latter years, than it was when the world was young.’
I looked up then, and met his blue gaze full upon me; lazy now, and mocking; and I have never been so afraid — not for myself. There was a stirring among the dancing girls. I felt envy running through them like a little wind through a field of flax. They did not believe that it was for my flute playing that Alkibiades had asked for me. And nor did I.
The Satrap cast a careless glance in my direction, and said, ‘My dear, if you are lonely at night, why did you not say so before? I had assumed that you made your own arrangements; but now that I know, you must allow me to find you a more worthy playmate than this. She is really quite ugly — why, man, she has scarcely any breasts! You would not rather have a boy? Well then, allow me to choose something more worthy of you from among the harem slaves. I have one in mind now — a honeycomb girl, and almost a virgin.’
‘But can she play the Phrygian flute?’ Alkibiades asked, his gaze still holding mine.
In the end the other girls departed, and I was handed over to two eunuchs, and led out of the Paradise of Alkibiades and taken to the guest court and handed over to the slaves there with many nods and winks. The slaves brought me to an inner chamber, where there was a couch resting on gilded griffons, and left me there to wait for Alkibiades’ coming. Palm oil lamps burned in fretted niches in the walls, casting soft shadows and blurred webs of light about the room. There was a chair with rose and purple cushions on it, a great painted chest with some clothes flung across it — I suppose he had left them there when he changed to sup with the Satrap. A long straight-bladed sword lay there too. A little shiver ran through me at the sight of it. But that was foolishness; if he was going to kill me it would not be with a sword, when he had already the little Persian daggers in his sash. For a while I sat on the griffon couch. And then I saw — I had been looking at it long enough without seeing — that the archway into the outer chamber had nothing but curtains to close it, and through the gap where they had been carelessly drawn, showed the blue spring night beyond the courtyard doorway. The slaves, in departing to their own quarters, had not even shut the door. At the far side, I knew, was a postern which opened on to a narrow way behind the chariot court. The slaves could not have been so careless; there must be guards about, or it was a trap of some sort. But sometimes a trap could be sprung. I got up and prowled into the outer chamber and across to the door.
And yet I do not think that I would have tried to escape, even if the way had been clear. The sense was upon me that whatever was coming to me that night, for good or ill, it was written on my forehead … In any case I had no choice. That red-headed hench-man of his, was sitting very comfortably outside the door, with his back propped against the wall. He sat there and grinned up at me, and the light from the open doorway caught the white flash of his teeth, and his quirked devil’s eyebrows and the swinging lumps of silver and coral in his ears.
I went back to the bed and sat down again. After a long time I heard a step in the court, and Alkibiades’ voice. ‘No trouble, Pilot?’
And my gaoler answered, ‘No trouble that a drink will not cure; my throat’s as dry as a lime-pit, where in Typhon’s name have you been?’
‘I could scarcely rush away like a green lad with his first girl waiting for him,’ Alkibiades said. ‘Well enough; go and get drunk with my blessing, Pilot dear.’
I heard the other make a sound between grumbling and laughter, and his footsteps tramping away. There was an aching quietness after they had gone, and in the quietness, I heard a long light step in the outer room, and Alkibiades was standing in the archway.
I do not remember getting up and moving back from him; but I must have done, because suddenly the coldness of the wall was pressing against my shoulders and rump, biting through the thin stuff of my garments.
He came on, until he could set his hands flat on the wall at either side of me, and I could smell the wine on his breath and the perfume of saffron crocus that he wore.
He said, ‘Where did you learn the Attic Greek?’
‘Chiefly in the pleasure house beside the temple of Hermes, where many traders come,’ I said. I wondered how long we must talk like this before he killed me.
‘Those who overhear what is not meant for them, should not show it so clearly in their faces.’
I said, ‘Sparta is nothing to me; and if it were, how could I betray you? I who am a captive and a slave?’
‘There are ways of sending messages,’ he said. ‘Slaves have been known to escape. I can’t take the risk, darling.’
His hands left the wall, and he set them lightly, almost caressingly, round my neck.
I said, ‘If you are going to kill me, do it with your dagger, and quickly.’
He smiled a little, and shook his head. ‘You have pulled your front teeth out of shape with all that flute playing — I have always said no man should disfigure himself with the flute, let alone a woman. But your hair is too bright to be quenched in the ground and your eyes are too beautiful to be filled with dust before their time.’ And as he spoke, his fingers went to work on the silver clasps that held my bodice, and stripped it off; then to my girdle — he knew very well, with much experience, I suppose, his way about the fastenings of a woman’s garments — and everything fell from me in a drift of striped silks and golden gauze. And I stood before him naked except for my bracelets and forehead ornament. And he stood and looked me over, with suddenly lifted brows.
Always since I was taken from my own land, I had shrunk from being naked, even among the other women; for in Bithynia as in Thrace, tattooing is a mark of rank, and not only for the men, as it is in some lands. I had been proud of the lilies and star-flowers on my thighs and shoulders, the running stag below each breast. I had hated them to be looked at by curious alien eyes who saw in them only a matter for sidelong glances and laughter and foolish questions; but time makes one used to all things, and I had almost ceased to care. But with the lazy blue gaze of the Athenian moving over my body, I was proud of them again, proud that they would show him, if I was a barbarian, at least I had not been bred a slave. I forced my head up and back, feeling the hardness of the wall behind it, drawing up my belly under my ribs and pressing my shoulders flat to the wall, making myself proud and taut like a strung bow.
He said softly, ‘Now who would have thought it, under the Persian gauzes?’ He put out a finger and touched the centre of a star-flower, then traced the curves of its stem where it forms a pattern, interlacing with the stems of others of its kind. And his finger seemed to leave a thin white trail of fire behind it. ‘Curious, twined and twisted beauty. Here’s a lily, crimson-lipped, and here’s a running stag … are you always patterned so? Or does it come to you with the leaves to the trees, only in the spring and the rutting season?’
‘These pattern
s are the marks of rank, in my country,’ I said. ‘I am from Bithynia before the slavers came.’
‘And you were born and bred a free woman. You do not need to tell me so.’ He put his arms round me, laughing a little, his hands loose-linked in the small of my back between me and the wall, and kissed me, tonguing my lips apart. ‘No, and you do not need to tell me that you are no soft harem woman for a man to take his pleasure on, among soft smothering cushions in the dark. You should be hunted down and stallioned on the bare ground under the stars!’
Abruptly, he let me go, and crossing to the couch, swept together all the rugs and soft coverlids spread upon it, into one great dragging bundle and thrust them into my arms. ‘But the bare ground will be cold tonight. Go and spread our bed-place in the court, and make it warm for me until I come.’
There was a narrow colonnade all round the little guest court, and the small open space in the centre floored with fine turf that would be bare brown earth when the summer came, and roofed with the twisted dragon-branches of an old almond tree that grew in the midst of it. I spread the quilted coverings beneath it, the great bearskin bed-rug with its lining of embroidered crimson over all. Then I lay down and drew the rug over me.
Under the warm weight of it, I ceased in a little while to shiver. The sky above the almond tree was green, like the heart of a beryl; and as my eyes grew used to the dark, I could see the faint pale flecks of the almond blossom; and above them were the stars. A great waiting came upon me, but I was not afraid any more. And deep within myself I said, ‘This was written on my forehead on the day that I was born.’
Then there was movement in the lamp-lit doorway, and I turned my head and saw Alkibiades. He had stripped off his court dress, and stood there in the instant before he quenched the lamp, naked save for a narrow crimson sash bound tightly about his waist, with one of the gold hilted daggers thrust into it. Then he reached up and pinched out the lamp flame; and the soft amber shape of the doorway turned black, and out of the blackness of it, he came.