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Chapter Three

So it was decided. I had a name. As the queen rose from the water and another grooming ritual began, she gave the instruction that I should be cleaned up and clothed more properly. Then when that was done, I was to be considered a guest of hers and permitted to join her ladies at the banquet that evening.

The woman called Berenice seemed less that amiable at the announcement, but she and the other obeyed nonetheless. The queen and her attendants parted company with me and the remaining women that seemed to be attempting to scrub the skin off of my bones while I was partially submerged in the water. Eventually they released me, and I found myself dried and clothed in a shimmering blue chiton.

“The queen’s ladies will be at the back of the hall,” one of the women informed me. “They’ll be in the shadows unless they are summoned. The only women allowed in the banquet hall this evening are those serving the guests or the king and queen, so have care that you are not seen or heard.”

I wanted to question her further, but it was clearly not an option. Once I was dressed, and those attending me were satisfied that there was little more to be done to my appearance, they departed. I was left to wander the palace unattended, hoping to find the banquet hall.

As I followed the boisterous laughter up a darkened stairway, I could hear it growing louder as I ascended. I strained to recognize individual voices or words, but the cacophony of baritone voices was inseparable as it reverberated through the stone. I squinted as we stepped up into the brightened room. Never had I seen so many people gathered in one location up until now, and the blur of constant movement mixed with the noise was dizzying.

I looked around, and saw that the room was indeed filled with only men. Across the room, a man sat seated on a slightly raised floor in a gilded and ornately carved chair with a smaller but equally lavish chair next to it.

The man himself wore a bright purple chiton and a forged golden circlet of leaves upon his head. His hair was a mix of black and silver, much more silver than black, and his short beard matched. Even across the room, I could see the lines formed in his skin around his eyes and mouth, and, as he was not smiling, I deduced that he was significantly older than Cenchreis. In truth, he almost seemed to be scowling, though I sensed only merriment flooding the room. He sat proudly above the rest of the men, surveying those beneath him with his eyes, not moving his head at all.

I scanned the room out of curiosity and noticed among these men my rescuer, and finally observed him in more detail than I had while attempting to keep my head above the surface of the water. His hair was nearly black it was so dark, though, in the dancing flames of the candle and the fading sunlight, I could see tints of rich brown. His shoulders were broader than most and each muscle in his arms was perfectly defined. His skin was deeply bronzed by the sun or at least some other sort of heat exposure. What struck me, visible from the distance across the room, were his eyes, the eyes that had captivated me on the beach. They were green, deep jade green, brightening only a bit when a flicker of candlelight struck them. The lines formed around them were the product of the broad smile across his face and the hearty laugh I could see by the bouncing of his shoulders. When a serving girl poured his wine, he smiled at her and tipped his head in thanks with a bright genuine smile. I strained to pick his voice from the crowd, remembering the tone and rhythm of it from the shore, but the shouting and discord around me made it impossible. I found myself longing to get closer to him; only the warning from the woman in the bath stopped me.

The king rose to his feet, deadening the buzz in the room. I was so captivated by the man who’d rescued me that I paid little attention to his words, hearing only something about his daughters as music rang through the hall once more.

Several women bounded into the hall, the eldest among them barely clad. Though the color of their hair varied, though each of them wore the same style of curls bound with ribbons and other embellishments, and their faces were coated in identical cosmetics, similar to Cenchreis’s but their eyes and lips were much more defined and intense. Their ages clearly varied as evidence by their heights and other defining attributes, but several among the eldest of the girls looked very near the same age as the queen herself. As they danced, I realized the eldest among them were the same women whom I’d seen on the far side of the bath earlier in the day and on the beach. The youngest among them had golden hair reminiscent of Cenchreis, and she appeared to be quite young. Her role in the dance was merely to smile while skipping around the front of the hall and tossing flower petals. I tried to count the women, but their constant movement made such a task quite difficult. I counted at least twelve at one point before a change in the dance called for all of the girls to mix themselves up again, and my count was lost. Surely these could not all be the daughters of a single man!

The dance ended with the youngest who had been scattering the rose petals presented her father with a woven circlet of flowers. He accepted it with a doting smile, and she skipped merrily away and out of sight with the rest of his daughters as they were dismissed.

The banquet continued on for hours; the wine flowed freely as did the comments from the drunken guests as the late afternoon stretched into twilight. I ached from head to toe and wanted nothing more than to simply give up my assignment and walk away. Yet, I had nowhere to go, and in truth, had no idea where I was located beyond the name of the city or what lay beyond it other than the sea.

I became aware that I was being watched intently when I felt something like a shock zip through my body. I scanned the crowd for the eyes that bore into me, and me the glimmering eyes of my rescuer watching me as if I were the only other person in the room. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I noticed the queen’s ladies following my gaze. Berenice opened her mouth to speak, but some sort of instrument interrupted her and the room’s varying conversations, and the king stood to make an announcement.

“Gentlemen, guests,” he stammered, clearly a victim of the wine, “Please once again look upon the beauty of Paphos. My queen, Cenchreis!”

The queen walked regally into the hall, standing tall and proud. She didn’t smile until she reached the king, who held out a hand toward her. A glowing smile stretched across her face and the same happiness shown in her eyes and she bowed low before her husband. When she stood, she took the hand he offered her, and he spun her around so that she faced the crowd. She surveyed it only briefly, making quick eye contact with me, before she looked down at the ground in front of her, so that her painted eyelids were visible and her eyelashes dusted her cheeks. The men applauded and made all manner of noises as she stood there, before the king gestured that she be seated next to him.

He rambled on again about being blessed by someone called Zeus. This man, the king, certainly loved the sound of his own voice. As did apparently everyone else. He bellowed once more and food was delivered pompously into the hall.

The hall was quieter with the men’s mouths now full of food rather than words, though their wine glasses required filling even more often than before the meal had been served. I chanced a glance at the queen, who surveyed all of the serving girls in the crowd. She seemed to be protective of them all, though I sensed tension and a sense that she felt powerless even upon her throne. I caught her gaze with mine, and she smile broadly at me. I couldn’t help but return it eagerly.

Her eyes weren’t the only ones I felt following me throughout the hall. I chose a moment to turn toward the front of the room when I felt them again, and it was in a passing instant I noticed my rescuer turn his gaze away from me. My lips formed an involuntary smile, and I looked away.

As the mountains of food decreased and were cleared away, many of the men trekked to the front of the room to address the king and queen. Most of the men addressed the king, will the queen sat demurely by himself.

At a point when many guests were approaching the royal couple, I noticed my rescuer address Cenchreis, unbeknownst to the king. She reddened and looked over at her husband cautiously before answering. As she did, she looked back at me with curiosity, and I felt a warm rush over my face when I saw the man she addressed turn to face me as well. The exchange was momentary, and the man went on to address the king. I did my best to pretend I hadn’t noticed any of the conversation when I knew he watched me as he returned to his seat.

The evening passed without further excitement, until gradually the men stumbled individually from the hall leaving in their wake a mess with a most unpleasant aroma.

“We should go,” whispered Sophia. The other ladies nodded and followed. I hesitated, not certain that I was meant to be addressed when she spoke.

Korinna seemed to sense my reserve. “If you’d like to stay until the queen departs, you may,” she said. “Just be sure to stay back here, unless she summons you of course. She won’t be here much longer.”

I nodded, and they all nodded curtly in reply, leaving me alone in the shadows. Indeed, it wasn’t long before the queen took her leave through the door from which she entered. I left as she did, following the path her ladies had taken.

I took a deep breath and exhaled as I wandered, a slight panic growing as I realized I had no idea in which direction I should be going. Somehow it gave me resolve to walk into the unknown alone.

The corridors were eerily quiet, and my footsteps seemed to echo louder than they should. I wondered if anyone resided behind the doors I passed, and if they might appear from behind one of them to scold me. I crept as silently as I could without walking awkwardly, coming to a bend in the hallway which would force me to turn right.

As I approached that corner, a cloaked figure stepped out in front of me. I inhaled with intent to protest, but instead a large hand clamped over my mouth with the assailant’s other hand wrapped around the back of my neck.

“Don’t scream,” warned a male voice in a low raspy whisper.


Next Chapter: Chapter 4