Oh, that child! It is a kind of self-love I suppose that makes me smile to myself when I remember her. Well. For all the ascetics say, a degree of self-love is no bad thing. It makes life possible, unless like the ascetics you think it wholly bad and to be rid of as soon as you can. But whatever you think of her, whatever I remember of her there is no doubt about the poor thing’s shame and grief with her gods turning their back on her! Until then I had accepted them as being there because everyone else – grown-ups I would say – believed in them or said they did. I was too young and ignorant to know that people do not always believe what they say they do. Anyway, in that small room, with its pallet, its single chest, its hooks with one or two cloaks hanging from them, there in the artificial twilight she dropped down into grief, into sorrow beyond the shame. She dissolved away like a lump of salt in fresh water. There was nothing but grief before the retreating backs of the gods: then they were gone.
There is a void when the gods have been there, then turned their backs and gone. Before this void as before an altar there is nothing but grief contemplating the void. Time passes but irrelevantly. The void with the grief before it is eternal. Even the sound of the wooden bolt being shot back and the latch lifting did not alter that contemplation. My mother’s voice was more deeply bitter than I had ever heard before.
‘He has withdrawn his offer. Leptides, that oaf, has withdrawn his offer. He’ – and it sounded as if she spat the words out – ‘He pities us!’
Life is not bad. It is intolerable, which is different. I sat up heavily. I stared at my mother’s feet.
‘He doesn’t want the thousand pieces of silver?’
‘What decent man would when a woman went with it who has shown everything she’s got to half Aetolia? But a boy, heir to no more than a farm, to turn down alliance with us – with us!’
I heard the door close again and the latch drop. I listened for the wooden bolt to move but it never did. Well. What bolt is needed to cage a naked girl?
Presently I sat up, then stood up. I felt my nips and they had hardly broken the skin. The hounds were well enough trained – no Molossian dogs those! They had known their place and the difference between human skin and a stag’s leather. I took my phial of olive oil and rubbed a little of it into my face. I thought to myself that if Leptides had gone through with his offer I might have asked him for a mirror – and flinched at once from the bloodless image of his voice: What would you want with a mirror? I combed my hair out but unravelled the knots with my fingers. I had neither so much hair nor so many combs that I could afford to lose any of them. I eyed my open chest with its folded clothes. The best one lay on top. I moved it on to my pallet and took out a dark gown that had frayed round the hem at the heel. I put it on slowly then fastened it with bronze brooches on either shoulder. I girdled myself and crossed the straps between my small, not to say insignificant breasts, then pulled up the skirt to let it hang down over the girdle.
You will wonder why I did all this, I who had been grief before the void, but the reason is simple. Nature has a world of imperatives and I needed to obey one of them. It is odd how people in stories never need to ease themselves, and that bitch Helen never menstruated – no, no, not bitch – poor soul! So I went out through the unbolted door and into the privy and eased myself, thinking now I was no longer before it that of course the void was the door of death, which explained everything and brought me a measure of peace: for I saw that death was an escape and a refuge. That is a hard lesson for the young to understand unless they have really been brought before the void by the unbearable cruelty of life itself! The others are right to dance and sing and have best friends and marry a good man and love their children. When I was back in my room I wondered what to do next, which shows that I was properly alive again and even a bit hungry. But before I had come to any conclusion my mother opened the door and came in quickly.
‘Arieka! No, not that dress, your best one quickly!’
‘To wear?’
‘Quickly, I said! For Heaven’s sake get that old thing off and put on your egg and dart! You can wear the gold earrings today and the bracelet. Hurry!’
‘What is it, Mother?’
‘Hurry, I said! I want you looking your best.’
‘Oh, not Leptides! I won’t –’
‘No. Not Leptides. Forget him and hurry. Your father wants you.’
After I had changed as fast as I could – and my mother fussed round, pushing a strand of hair this way, pulling up the skirt, muttering and blessing herself – we went, she in front, of course, I following with hands folded at my waist. But they came up of themselves.
He was not alone. He lay on one couch and Ionides on the other. Ionides gave me his slight version of the smile with its accompanying sorrow. My father opened the proceedings.
‘You may sit, Demetria.’
Ionides stirred.
‘And the girl, old friend? The girl too, don’t you think?’
My father pointed to the other chair. I got myself on to it rather clumsily if the truth were to be told. My fear seemed to swirl round me. My father cleared his throat.
‘Ionides Peisistratides has with great generosity offered us a way out of our – what shall I call them?’
‘Your difficulties,’ murmured Ionides, ‘your temporary difficulties. Or do I sound too much like a money-lender?’
‘Our difficulties,’ said my father. ‘Precisely. He has made us an offer on your behalf. He proposes to nominate you as a ward of the Foundation.’
There was a silence. My father stared at me, then at my mother, then at Ionides, then back at me.
‘Can’t you say something?’
But I was not used to saying something. There was, as I think the saying goes, an ox on my tongue. It was Ionides who answered him at last.
‘I think, old friend, that you had better leave this to me.’
He heaved himself up on the couch, turned a little, swung his legs and put his feet on the floor. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, just as if he had been a girl! I shall never forget that moment. I might have laughed but did not. But it was, to say the least, odd to face a man sitting opposite me. It was certainly odd, but easier.
‘What has happened, Arieka, is that after all the excitement – I mean after the – well, you are called a little barbarian aren’t you, so may I use a barbarian word I picked up on my travels and say that after the shemozzle this morning your parents find themselves, think themselves in a fix. Now you’ve decided to refuse that young man and, believe me, I agree with you, the way is open for me to propose what I was going to before I heard you were contemplating matrimony. You see, I’m really a rather important person –’
My father laughed.
‘A very important person.’
‘If you say so, old friend. Very well. At least an important person in that I can decide a girl is suitable for the service of the shrine at Delphi.’
‘Don’t get the wrong idea‚’ my father broke in. ‘You’ll sweep floors.’
‘That is putting a rather dreary construction on the offer, don’t you think? You see, my dear, there is a college of priests at Delphi. The Foundation, that is the divinely constituted body which actually runs the place, if you see what I mean, also has to decide what persons are worthy of belonging to the service of the god in however slight and menial a position. You have heard of the Pythia of course? Or I should say in fact the Pythias. At the moment there are two of them. Those distinguished ladies are sacred and divine and utter the oracles of the god’ – my parents and Ionides himself made a sacred sign – ‘but we are not directly concerned with them. After all’ – and he smiled again – ‘we have slaves to do what I may call “the dirty work”!’
‘You must think yourself lucky, my girl‚’ said my father. ‘Don’t imagine you’re not costing us anything!’
‘The Foundation,’ murmured Ionides, ‘is not a charitable institution. It must, if I may so phrase it, pay its way. Your father
, Anticrates the son of Anticrates, and I have come to an agreement on behalf of your family and the Foundation. Your dowry will be held by the Foundation. On your death – we have to mention such things, my dear, when discussing legal matters – on your death it would become Foundation property in perpetuity. Should you wish to marry at any point the Foundation would return the whole sum to you but keep the interest.’
‘Ion, old friend, we should mention the sum to her don’t you think?’
‘I am sure a young lady like Arieka would not be interested in such sordid details. I should say, Arieka – now I really think you should uncross your arms, you know! That’s better. You see, what your being a ward of the Foundation really comes to is that I have adopted you and shall be responsible for you. Do you mind that? Could you possibly bear it do you think? I should have to be responsible for your education in your duties and – oh heavens – a whole host of things. I hope we shall be friends.’
Beside me I heard my mother stir. I also heard in her voice that she had come to boiling point for she fairly hissed the words, ‘Say something!’
But the words which came out of my mouth were nothing but astonishment.
‘W-why me?’
My father answered the question instantly and grimly.
‘Because we’ve paid an arm and a leg to get –’
‘Old friend! I think we have all said very nearly enough. The question now is how soon can the girl pack up and come? She has a maid, I suppose? You’ll send her up in a proper vehicle? We have to think of the reputation of the Foundation, you know! To answer your question, Arieka, we think, after what we have heard, that there may be qualities lying dormant – I mean asleep – in you which are – dare I say? – unusual; oh, nothing to be proud of, I assure you, but qualities in which we – well there. Everything will explain itself.’
‘Where will she live?’
‘Oh, we have the appropriate accommodation, old friend. It’s a large foundation, you know, all those souls! And as I happen to be the Warden –’
‘She can think herself lucky,’ said my father shortly. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘We’ll nominate our man for the agreement and you’ll nominate yours, I suppose. But she can come before that. We have no differences do we? Everything is straight and plain.’
‘We don’t want the girl any more.’
‘I hope you mean that as far as she is concerned the affair is settled to her satisfaction? Any other meaning –’
My mother stood up, so I did too. She spoke, ‘lonides Peisistratides, I thank you.’
My father favoured me with a glare.
‘Well, girl? Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘Honoured Father.’
‘To Ionides I mean.’
But again my words were the wrong ones and made little sense.
‘This wonderful day –’
The last I saw of Ionides that time he was not smiling but laughing out loud, a thing he seldom did.
My mother fairly pushed me out.
II
The last winter snow on the broad head of Parnassus; somewhere there in the deep valleys at the knee of the mountain was Delphi, the centre of the earth.
I was woken out of an uneasy sleep at dawn. I had dreamed confusedly and in those days took much account of dreams, though mostly I dismiss them now. Every day we rid ourselves of the rubbish of our bodies. I think that in sleep with its dreams we are trying to rid ourselves of the rubbish of our minds. Not of course that I would have had such precise thoughts in those days. I was merely aware, with a faint feeling of distaste, that the people who ordered their actions by the dreams they had were trying to walk on water. That day began as usual, at first light. I was no sooner dressed and wrapped in an overmantel than my father summoned me before him. When I had curtsied with both hands hidden, he took up a small washleather bag and handed it to me. As I took it my hand touched his and I whipped it back. He said, in what for him was a kindly voice, that it did not matter.
‘Your mother has told me that you are purified. You may kiss my hand.’
I did so with another curtsy.
‘Open the bag.’
It will come as a surprise to those of a later generation – or perhaps to those of our own generation but below our degree – that I did not know what the things were. They were round and golden and had the head of the God Alexander the Great on them. I could not see any pins or catches for wearing them.
‘Have you nothing to say?’
‘Honoured Father, what are they?’
There was a pause. Then he gave a great shout of laughter.
‘At least nobody can say you have not been well brought up! Well. Keep them close. “Honoured Father, what are they?” Did you know the story of the young wife who did not complain of her husband’s stinking breath because she thought all men were like that? Menander would make a play out of it. Well you must go along now. Ask Ion what they are. He’ll tell you – and dine out on the story!’
He waved me away and went back to his accounts. At least I knew what they were.
‘Thank you, Honoured Father. Goodbye.’
I waited for him to say something, but all he did was grunt and wave me away again. My mother was waiting for me.
‘Everything is ready. Come.’
Our brake was ready. There was a wain with my boxes in it and Chloe looking far too pretty and with far too much of her face uncovered but I said nothing. I wondered busily, in a mean little mind, if Ionides would allow me to sell her. But he was there, waiting, his groom holding the horse ready. Presently my mother laid one hand on my shoulder, drew aside my scarf and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Be a good girl if you can. People will forget in time. The blessing of all the gods go with you.’
That did, at last, make me cry. Crying, I was lifted by Ionides into the brake, crying I heard the orders, saw the group of horsemen turn towards the gate. It was a considerable procession for a floor-sweeper. But then, Ionides was an important man. We passed into the outer courtyard, passed through the Great Gate.
‘Stop! Stop! O please! Stop!’
I stumbled from the brake, snatched my skirts out of the dust and ran to him, stooped and flung my arms round him. It was our old herm, of course, standing deep in the earth with his privates jauntily displayed and his cheeky smile. I flung my arms round him and pressed my cheek to the stony curls of his head. I hated our house and would have left a curse on it if I had dared. But this was our old herm, that had been dug up after his permission had been sought and granted, dug up all those years ago by our little house in Phocis which he had guarded for so long. And now I was being dug up, torn up, transplanted without anyone asking my permission. I howled there as the sun rose on my future and I clung absurdly to my unhappy past.
‘I think I had better share your brake with you. Come, little Arieka. You have wept enough as is seemly and any more would be a sheer indulgence. You don’t seem like an indulgent girl to me. Come along. Now if you hold on there with your right hand – so – then put your left foot there – and lift up – good. Now sit down. He is a fine horse is he not? My hunter! But we will let my groom lead him. You know, since I am your guardian and you are my ward it would be quite appropriate for you to uncover more of your face – on the other hand the dust that is kicked up by this antiquated vehicle – you don’t really know much about me or this journey do you?’
I said nothing for I did not know how to speak to a man. But he divined my difficulty.
‘Now what are you to call me? If it comes to that, what am I to call you? Shall we settle for Arieka mostly, and Young Lady on high days and feast days? I think that’s about right. As for what you call me, I think “Ion” would present you with a difficulty whereas “Ionides” with “Peisistratides” attached would do for those occasions in Delphi which are so fearfully solemn.’
‘Yes, Honoured Ionides.’
‘You are exquisitely well-mannered my child. Do you t
hink I could be allowed to see both eyes instead of just one? It’s difficult getting used to men. You have my entire sympathy. I prefer women. But don’t tell anybody. I don’t mean I prefer women as wives or slaves – that slave of yours is far too pretty, we must sell her – no, I mean women as friends. So, from my point of view, I am delighted to have made a new woman friend and be given the privilege of looking after her. You may notice that I talk too much. You, very properly, talk too little – a paradox! You are watching the apple going up and down in my throat. It is indeed prominent. We lanky creatures suffer from that sort of exposure. I daresay you could draw the muscles of my face. Well. You seem a little more comfortable, a walking pace. Your father keeps good cattle. But I should not be talking about that! Are you curious about your own future?’
‘My mother told me I was to sweep floors, Honoured Ionides.’
He smiled with sorrow lurking round his eyes.
‘I may have given her that impression. How foolish of me! Oh, now I understand. Yes. You will indeed carry the sacred besom in one of the processions. But otherwise –’
‘I wouldn’t have to go near that place?’
‘Now what are you thinking of? What on earth – Yes, I see. I might have known you would be profoundly religious. Of course.’