In a flash of understanding I realized why Nicolaus had brought me here, for it was as if the gods themselves had descended in all their radiance and glory and possessed this crumbling, miserable hut. My knees buckled and I knelt down, the lamp dropping from my hand into the dirt, extinguishing itself and leaving the small, close room in darkness. I stretched my hands out in front of me, hardly daring to credit my own senses, and clutched Asteria's yielding body tight against my chest.
"How…?" I blurted, trying to speak, but she stifled my words, pressing my face tightly to her warm breasts, cloaked in the rough fabric she was wearing. Her grimy Rhodian tunic enhanced the pleasure of the anticipation, like Xenophon's peach, and it was only after many moments that I was finally able to lessen my grip. I nuzzled her smooth throat as she clasped her hands behind my neck, murmuring wordlessly, and the rain outside continued to fall silently on the rough stones as the feathery cobwebs lazily brushed our skin.
CHAPTER TWO
AFTERWARDS, AS THERE was no room to lie down on the stone bench, I remained simply as I was, leaning back against the rough masonry as she straddled my thighs, gathering my cloak around us both, to keep out the night chill. Aphrodite and Hephaestus, Hephaestus and Aphrodite. There is no more doomed and mismatched a pair of lovers in history, the exquisite goddess of Beauty and the irascible god of Fire. My indulgent reader must forgive the heavy-handed reference to the old myths. The allusion is excusable, however, for who could overlook the true divinity of Asteria's body beneath her coarse tunic? Or the fact that I myself was as filthy and smoke-begrimed as the blacksmith, not to mention lamed like him by my earlier fall? Every chorus in Athens would lift its song to Aphrodite were that goddess half as beautiful as Asteria, and that is as it should be, though the jealous deity suffers rivals impatiently. Even mere mortals, however, must occasionally glimpse heaven's threshold, and in this stone hut I drew near it, for though unfortunate Hephaestus lost his beloved to War, I would not so lose my Asteria.
Complete darkness enveloped us like a shroud, the only sound being the soft trickle of water from a tiny rivulet flowing from the base of the far wall and meandering lazily out through the low door. Asteria's breathing was slow and even against my neck. At length she spoke.
"He saved me because you told him to. He knew that was what you wanted."
For a moment I didn't speak as I digested her words. She sat motionless on my legs, even her fingers now having stopped their caresses as she waited for my reaction before she continued. I remained frozen, collecting my racing thoughts.
"I told him to?" I asked cautiously, keeping my voice even. "Who was it that saved you?" I thanked the gods for the all-enveloping darkness that hid my face from her view. Asteria stiffened for an instant and then slowly straightened her back, and despite the darkness I could feel her peering at me, trying to discern my expression, the reasoning behind what I now realized was to her an astonishing question.
"You don't know?" she exclaimed. "By the gods, he didn't tell you? Where did you think I'd been these past days?" She burst into tears, clutching me tightly as my hands rested stiffly on her back. I remained frozen, my thoughts churning as I struggled to imagine who it was that had been keeping her for three days, at my alleged orders. I strained to remain still, to keep from standing and dropping her to the ground, torn between comforting her and storming out with my dignity intact. I am ashamed now, truly ashamed to say that the one thing that kept me from leaving forever-and this thought I remember as clearly as if it had happened yesterday-was the recollection that the door to the coop was scarcely higher than my knees and that finding my way through it in the pitch dark and mud while maintaining any level of decorum would not be an easy thing to accomplish. I waited for what I am sure were many fewer minutes than it actually seemed, until she was able to regain her breath and resume talking. I didn't utter a sound. All I could think was that it seemed as though over the past few days I had been waiting interminably for other people to say the right words, and they never came. Finally she spoke.
"Nicolaus came to me three days ago," she said in her softly accented Greek, "the day Xenophon gave the order to leave the camp followers. One of his scouts saw me climbing into the hills, looking for a hiding place where I could survive without the army. I had never spoken to Nicolaus in my life, I swear, except when changing the dressings on his foot. He came running on my trail-I hadn't gone very far, and he dragged me back down, making me walk casually as we entered the camp. I was terrified-I had no idea what this boy would do to me."
I remained still. Nicolaus. My mind was already preparing for vengeance.
"He told me you couldn't bear the thought of my falling into the barbarians' hands, and had ordered him to smuggle me. He said it was my decision, to be smuggled, or to risk my fate with the Kurds, but that if I went with him, I would have to keep silent. He said he owed everything to you and Xenophon, and that if anyone found out about me, it would be death for us both and a terrible disgrace to you.
"Nicolaus didn't even let me tell my friends, or return to gather my things. He said it was too dangerous, that it had to look as if I had simply disappeared, like so many other camp followers. He found a Rhodian slinger's tunic and cape for me to wear. I was skeptical at first, but I looked around and saw that everyone in his company were only thin boys, hardly bigger than me. I could easily look like one of them if I bound myself properly and carried myself right. I laughed when I saw my reflection in the shield they held up for me, but not when I saw what was behind me-Nicolaus was standing there with his blade, preparing to cut my hair! Of course I knew my hair had to go, all the Rhodians have cropped hair, but still I wept-my hair had never been cut."
At this I was astonished, for in the darkness I had not even noticed that the thing that had most attracted me to her at first, the beautiful hair that fell to her nates and which she kept lovingly combed and dressed, had been cut as short as a galley slave's. I lightly brushed my hand over her stubbly head, and could feel her involuntarily shudder.
"Since then I've traveled with the Rhodians, in scouting parties along the army's flanks so that no one would look at me closely. My feet and legs are in agony, Theo, and the sandals they gave me don't fit. I keep my face grimy, which isn't hard, and I'm not permitted to talk. Once Nicolaus caught me humming and he slapped me hard in the face. He's terrified as much for himself as for me if I were to be caught. I still have the black eye-it's the make-up that best goes with the costume, is it not?" She gave a short, bitter laugh.
We talked more that night, much more. Asteria said that the Rhodian boys treated her like one of them, though they managed to make special efforts for her personal needs and privacy. She trusted them implicitly, as a sister her brothers, and what choice did she have? Or did I have, for that matter, for she was now completely beyond my assistance and protection, and at the mercy of these rough country boys, and whatever extra prayers I might be able to offer on their behalf for their troubles.
Dawn with her pink-tipped fingers might have shone all too early that morning had the gods not thought, in their benevolence, to slow the passing night, reining in Blaze and Aurora, the frisking colts that usher in the morning. Finally, however, the doorway began to grow visible as the darkness gave way to a gray mist. Tiny chinks in the stonework above us let shine narrow beams of light, which pierced and illuminated the feathery cobwebs, still waving vaguely in the invisible breezes caused by our rustling or our breath, or perhaps by even smaller movements, the blinking of eyelashes, the parting of lips. I stood to go, reluctant though at the same time eager to depart before Nicolaus and his comrades emerged from their huts and shot me their sly, questioning glances as I crawled awkwardly from the coop. There was much to be done, and Xenophon would be waiting.