“I think it is time for a mere Canaanite man to get involved,” he said, picking up the hint. Actually, he was intrigued by the mystery, and he did have good regard for Huuo and his family, so it was an easy decision to make. “I will see what the menfolk can learn. Meanwhile, you continue as you have, giving no hint that you suspect anything. For surely if there is a conspiracy, for what ultimate purpose we don't know, and they think you suspect, your life will not be safe.”
“Oh!” She had not thought of that. But she had accomplished her immediate purpose: to get her husband involved. Because though the women were adept at learning secret news, the men were adept at doing things, and something needed to be done.
In the morning Huuo woke somewhat refreshed. He reflected on what had happened in the evening, and realized that while his horror and grief for the loss of his family continued, he did have to orient on his future. It had been indiscreet to bed Scylla, but perhaps inevitable. She was certainly a winsome woman. Never would he consider her in lieu of Annai, but as a temporary creature, akin to a session in the temple with a priestess, she was more than adequate. Still, he felt guilty for weakening, and intended not to do it again. He would see to the funeral for his loved ones, and she would sell her house and return to wherever she had come from, and then he would see about making a new life.
How sensible it all seemed! But only because he was walling off the sea of his grief, so that he could do what had to be done. When he had acquitted his obligations, then he would also be free to grieve fully.
He got up, cleaned up, and went to the main room. Scylla was already there, preparing breakfast for them both. Her robe covered her body completely, yet somehow did not conceal its pliant nature. Whatever else she was or was not, she was a most attractive woman.
“Do you know,” she said as they completed the meal, “while I am of course chagrined by what happened last night, I must also confess that it was my private delight. You are an excellent lover.”
“I thought we had agreed to forget last night,” he said gruffly.
“Oh! I am sorry. So we did. It was just that my dreams were so—I just couldn't help thinking how delightful it would be to—but I have said too much.” She turned her face away.
She was right, and he knew he should let it be. But she had inadvertently intrigued him. “Delightful to do what?” he asked. Because he suspected that she was not talking about mere sexual activity.
“No, it is foolish and impossible. Come, you must see to your arrangements, and I must see to mine. I have not begun to market this house.”
But, perversely, he pursued it. “What is impossible?”
“Please, Huuo, do not press me. There can only be embarrassment for me.”
Which made it even more intriguing. “How can a mere dream be embarrassing?” he asked, though he knew that this was certainly possible.
She faced him, flushing slightly. “You intend to have this of me? I would rather take you to bed again.”
He had resolved to avoid that, but now he was tempted. “I don't think that would be fair to you, considering that soon we will part and not see each other again. This is not the festival, or a chamber in the temple.”
“True. But we might pretend it was. Shall I be a priestess of Ashtoreth for you?” She opened her robe to show her breasts.
He smiled, though the sight stirred a desire for just that. “You are trying to divert me from the subject. So you won't have to tell me your embarrassment.”
She hung her head. “Yes. It was a transparent ploy.” She closed her robe.
Something about her fascinated him, though there was guilt behind it. She said she wanted to bed him again; he wanted the same. The more she tried to divert his sexual interest, the more she incited it—and even when she tried to use sexual appeal to divert him from something else, his interest increased. He knew he should depart this house, leaving her behind. And knew he wouldn't. “What is your secret thought?”
She made a little sigh of resignation. “I knew I shouldn't have let any hint slip. You are a musician, bound to follow the melody to its end. But my fancy is not simply told.”
She was still teasing him. “We have time. Tell it as it needs to be told.”
“I was originally a citizen of Gaza. But I committed an indiscretion, and was exiled by the seren.”
“Would that be Seren Jaoch? I met him.”
Her eyes widened. “You know him? Then I really must not tell you this!”
He smiled. “Be at ease. We are not friends. Merely acquaintances. How did you annoy him?”
“I seduced one of his favored officers.”
“I can imagine.” She had never made a secret of her propensity. “But surely that happens routinely.”
“He was married to a woman with political connections. When she learned of our relationship, she required her husband to charge me with trying to discredit him. The seren believed it, and sent me away. She had her vengeance, sure enough, for I do love my home city, and long to return there.”
“That's understandable. But what has this to do with me?”
“I think Lord Jaoch suspected that I was innocent of that particular crime. But he had to support his officer. I think Lord Jaoch would let me return, were I in other guise.”
“Other guise? How can you ever be other than yourself?”
Her flush deepened. “If I were someone's wife. Particularly if that person were prominent.”
“Then your course seems simple. You have only to beguile a noble, and—”
“I have affairs passingly. But I have never married. Because I could marry only a man I truly loved. Only to him could I be duly subservient. And I have never encountered a man with qualities compelling my love. Until now.”
Suddenly her meaning struck him. “You—you find me such a man?”
She met his gaze. Her eyes seemed large, with depths of innocence. Her lower lip trembled. “Must I answer?”
Flattered but confused, he found only one response. “I think you had better.”
A tear appeared at one eye, and trickled down across her flush. “I love you,” she whispered. “I dreamed of marrying you. There: I have said it at last.”
“But I am—” He broke off, appalled. He was no longer a married man.
“You are not ready for this,” she said softly. “I didn't want to tell you. And it is indeed a foolish dream. Why should I marry to return to my home city—when I would not care where I was, were I with you? So it makes no sense. We shall part and be strangers soon enough.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “In any event, I wouldn't care to leave Mor.” But as he spoke he knew it was not so. What was there to hold him here, now that Annai was gone?
Scylla got up and went to her bedroom. Huuo remained where he was, trying to make sense of the chaos of his thoughts. He was in a situation he would never have chosen. But he could not escape it. Suppose he went his own way—who would see to his comforts? Since he had married, the routines of the world had retreated; Annai had taken care of them. He had focused on being the best musician he could be, and making the family living thereby, with considerable help from Annai's supportive dancing. Even the children had not been a burden, for she cared for them too. Though Minah might have found a home in the temple, with her prettiness and her affinity for the spirits. Chipp might have found employment as a musician's helper, for he had learned useful things. But now they all were gone, and he was alone, and he had little notion how to cope. Go out alone? He wasn't sure he could.
So regardless of his grief, he needed a woman. Crystal would help him all she could, but there were sharp limits. She was a servant, and she had her own family. He needed a Philistine woman—yes, a wife. And Scylla was offering. This was not something he wanted to face while his grief was raw, but he knew that there were decisions he would have to make regardless of his grief. It was possible that Scylla would be an appropriate choice. If she wanted to return to Gaza—well, Seren Jaoch had asked
him to go there. He could have a good situation, and Scylla, as a native of that city, would certainly know how to handle its ways. Marriage between them? It could be a rational choice.
But not yet. He simply wasn't ready. The memory of Annai was too strong.
He became aware of something. A curious faint sound. He oriented on it. Then he realized that it was Scylla. She was lying face down on her bed—he could see her through the doorway—and sobbing.
Because he had shamed her by making her express her secret thought. He had been cruel, though her dream was not unreasonable, when considered cautiously.
He got up and approached her room. She did not know of his nearness. He hesitated, gazing at her. Her robe was in some disarray from her haste in throwing herself down, so that one of her thighs showed fairly high. He felt guilty for considering her body when she was in such misery, yet the sight did stir his desire. Somehow he desired her each time he was close to her, and the sexual urge mixed with and colored his impression of her situation. What did he really want of her? A temple priestess? Or a woman to take care of him? Who happened to be a dancer, as Annai had been.
He went to kneel beside her. “I am sorry I made you tell your dream,” he said. “But you need not be shamed. It is not unreasonable.”
She heard him. After a moment she turned her tear-stained face to him. “You are such a kind man.”
“No, merely a man trying to find his way. I regret making you unhappy.”
“I make myself unhappy with foolish notions.” She shifted her position, getting her feet to the floor so she could sit up. In the process she showed a good deal more thigh and breast than she realized. “But this is inappropriate. You are the one in grief. I must stop holding you back from your business.”
She was right. He had chores to do. But her inadvertent exposure was having an illicit effect. Suddenly he was reacting more than he might have to the full open exposure of her body. There was something extraordinarily compelling about the partial view. “I wish it was last night,” he murmured.
“Last night?” Then she glanced at herself. “Oh. This is nothing. You are welcome to whatever you want. It is a gift gladly given. But surely you know that if you borrow it, you may in time want to buy it.”
An incitement to marriage. Again, she was surely right. She was giving him fair warning. “He who handles vipers risks getting bitten,” he said.
She laughed. “How apt an image. But I have another. He who handles fresh fruit at the market risks having to purchase it.” She caught his right hand with her left hand and brought it to her exposed left breast. The touch of that not quite forbidden fruit abolished whatever restraint had remained to him.
He moved into her and kissed her. She met him eagerly. Then they were on the bed, and he was on her and in her, doing what he had resolved not to do. And she was weeping, but not with grief. As before, they remained clasping each other long after the physical passion was spent. They did not separate until they heard someone approaching the house.
Then they had to go into a flurry of repairs, mutually administered, so they could meet the visitor in good order, though they knew it was only Crystal coming to be of assistance. Today, Huuo resolved, he would go to take those bones for the funeral and burial ceremonies.
Annai despaired of getting herself and the children presentable. They had only the clothes they had worn when abducted, and those had been roughly treated. “At least get us some clean robes!” she cried to the mute woman who guarded them.
She expected no more response than she had gotten on any of the past days of their confinement. But this time there was something else. “Give them robes,” a man's voice said.
There was a pause. Then the woman appeared at the tiny window normally used to introduce their food and remove their refuse. She shoved in a pile of cloth.
Annai took it eagerly. “Thank you,” she said politely, for this was behavior she wanted to encourage. When she unfolded it, there were three robes: one large one and two small ones. Exactly what she and the children needed.
She got the children changed, then changed herself. Because she had heard the man's voice, she was cautious, and faced into the stone corner so that no more of her body showed than was necessary. The changing took only a moment. Then she brushed out her hair with her fingers and braced herself for whatever was to come. Because she was sure this was no incidental visit.
The man's face appeared at the window. “I would like to talk with you, not quarrel with you,” he said. “You are a Philistine lady. Will you give me your word not to behave in an uncivilized manner?”
“Uncivilized!” she exclaimed. “My house gets raided, the children and I get knocked on our heads and bound and hauled for days we know not where, wrapped in coarse blankets so we almost suffocate, and finally dumped in this bare cell like so much garbage, and you expect civilized behavior? That woman never even speaks to us, just shoves in food every so often. Fresh robes can't fix the mess we're in or the stink of which we reek.”
“You seem remarkably clean and sweet, regardless,” he says. “Your class shows.”
Annai had used tearstrips from their old robes to make clothes, and had dipped them in the water left over from their meals, to wipe herself and the children as clean as was feasible. She had spoken somewhat hyperbolically in her distress; she certainly hoped they did not smell. But in these close confines it was hard to be sure. “If you behave, we will,” she said.
“That suffices.” The man went around to the barred door, and it a moment it opened. He entered and stood a moment outlined by the light beyond. He was a tall, solid, armed man, obviously too strong to be overcome by any ordinary woman. In any event, she had pledged no mischief.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Are you the one responsible for this outrage?”
“I admit I am, to a degree,” he said. “Lady, do you know me?” He removed his helmet.
She stared at him. “Why—you are Zebub, the nefarious schemer. We have met on occasion during the festivals.”
“True. In this case it is perhaps well that I am such, because an avenue was open to me that would not have been to another man. Are you aware of the fate of your house and husband?”
“The fate of—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “No.”
“Then I have unfortunate news to impart. You were the victims of a chance raid by hill folk, who rioted when their cattle stampeded in your city. Seeing their opportunity, they ravaged several houses on their way out. Evidently taking you for nobility, they took you and your children for hostage, so that they would not be pursued too closely. They burned your house as an additional distraction. Evidently this was effective, because there was no effective pursuit.”
“My husband,” Annai said tightly.
“He was on his way back to your city after the festival. He learned of the raid, and went after the hill folk, not waiting for a proper expedition. That is perhaps understandable, as expeditions can take forever to mount. He had been told you were dead, but he refused to believe it. But the hill folk ambushed him and killed him.”
“Oh!” Annai cried, and both children screamed.
“But once they were home without complications, the hill folk were not certain what to do with their captives,” Zebub continued. “They were too ignorant to know how to negotiate for ransom. You did not speak their language, and did not know their ways, so they feared you would make poor slaves. They did appreciate the fact that one captive was a beautiful woman, and realized that perhaps she could be sold to some man who desired her for the obvious purpose. That left the children, whom they deemed to be too old for full assimilation into their tribe. So probably they would have killed them.”
Despite their mutual shock at the news of Huuo's death, Annai and the children listened attentively, realizing how relevant the man's discourse was. Annai sold as a sex slave, and Chipp and Minah killed? That had not happened, but they still did not know what their actual situation was.
&nbs
p; “Fortunately I was in the vicinity, dealing in sundry items of trade,” Zebub said. “I have learned their language. They asked me whether I would be interested in a lovely female slave. The truth is that I do dabble on occasion in the slave trade, which can be lucrative. But when I learned that this was a Philistine woman and two Philistine children, I knew this was no ordinary situation. Apparently the good folk of Mor did not even realize that this family was alive, or there would have been a reprisal and recovery expedition. But if a highborn woman turned up on the slave market, there would be severe repercussions. Philistines do not tolerate the enslavement of members of their noble class. I realized that something had to be done, or she would find herself not only enslaved but with her tongue cut out so as to conceal her identity, as is the case with my personal slave women here.”
Suddenly Annai understood why the woman never spoke. “Her tongue—?”
“It is a routine precaution in some circles, just as is gelding or blinding male slaves. So I knew I would have to act. So I bought her and the children, though uncertain how I might recoup my investment. It seemed to be the prudent thing to do. I had them delivered to my residence. Now imagine my surprise to discover the identity of these captives: the Lady Annai of Mor, whom I have encountered socially.”
There was something disingenuous about his story. He must have known their identities before this. Why, then, had he not freed them? But she hesitated to ask, lest she not like the answer. “Yes, I am Annai, and these are my children. We have been held here, uncertain of our fate.”
“That was unfortunate. But I had business elsewhere, and could not attend you sooner.” He studied her. “May I speak with candor?”
This was mischief. She feared that she knew what was on his mind, but also knew that a direct rebuff might well result in getting her raped before the children. If it was going to happen, she wanted to spare the children the sight. “That depends on the nature of your concern.”