Sappho walked with a purpose towards a vendor of fine Persian silks, pointing to several green and yellow shimmering veils as Clara and Efterpi watched from a distance. Looking away from the poet as she pulled out a leather satchel of gold coins, the young singer turned to Clara, "Miss," she said a bit shyly, "Is... Is she truly Sappho of Lesbos?" "Of course, why do you ask?" "Well... Given her reputation, I would've thought she was taller," Efterpi confessed. Clara smirked; it was true, the great poet was two finger's width shorter than the youth and a full hand's width shorter than herself. "Don't let her diminutive stature fool you," Clara whispered back, "A giant lives within that small frame." After leaving the silk trader, Sappho had Efterpi, who was more familiar with the market, lead the way to a seller of perfumery and cosmetics. There the poet bought a small clay jar of perfume, eyeliner made of ground charcoal and olive oil, as well as a lip colorant of redding and lard. The trio then quickly slipped behind a canvassed open tent where wine from Melos and Skyros were sold alongside dates and olive oil from Lesbos. Behind the tent was a large building, the small space between the building and tent sheltered on either side by shrubs. Once she was sure that they were unobserved, Sappho turned to the two women. "Clara," she said, motioning towards the edge of the tent, "Keep lookout. Efterpi," she said as she now turned to the young brunette, "Strip." Efterpi suddenly looked nervous, "What?" Sappho took a deep breath as she put a hand on the youth's shoulder. "If the king's guards waited for you that night in the garden, then they probably know what you look like. We need to disguise you. Now please, take those patched up rags off so we can begin." Efterpi looked from Sappho to Clara and back, "I don't have to leave my lyre here too, do I?" she asked as she clutched the instrument to her breast, "It was a gift of my father. It's all I have left of him." Sappho pursed her lips together in thought. "No," she eventually answered, "But your clothes do have to go." Reluctantly, Efterpi took her worn tunic off. Sappho looked upon her nude body and sighed heavily, "Oh, if I were but twenty years younger..." "I heard that," Clara said over her shoulder, adding, "Will you hurry up, I'm getting nervous." Sappho quickly took the jar of perfume, broke it open by smashing the top against the wall of the building, and poured the entire aromatic contents over Efterpi's head and body. The strong odor of lilacs and ambrosia caused the young woman's eyes to water. She then quickly applied the eyeliner after an Egyptian fashion, and put the reddened lard upon her lips and cheeks. Finally, seeing that the perfume had been absorbed into the skin, she had her dress herself in the silks that had been purchased for her. Standing back with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face, Sappho admired her accomplishment. Clara, meanwhile, continued her guard duty. "Are you two done yet?" she asked as she nervously watched a fruit peddler bringing his cart nearby. "See for yourself." Clara turned around and grimaced. "You made her look like a whore!" she cried. "A temple prostitute from Attica I met once around eighteen years ago, to be exact," Sappho responded. Efterpi was about to protest, but the poet stopped her by placing a finger to her lips, "The important thing is that you no longer look like the street waif you did, so as long as you stick with us we should be able to get you into the palace. Now come," she said, taking her staff up once again and, with Clara on one side of her and Efterpi on the other, they eventually made their way back to the palace. It was still relatively early in the morning as they approached the gates to the royal palace. Even so, the news had still managed to get out that Sappho was missing, and thus it was that the guards and King Adrastos himself began a frantic search of the royal grounds. Entering the room he'd had set aside for the poet from Lesbos, the king began to look for clues that may've been left behind to tell him where Sappho and her companion might be, when he chanced upon something that took his breath away. King Adrastos couldn't believe his eyes; there, upon a small stand by the large cushioned bed, was a papyrus with verse scrolled upon it, a bottle of dried ink and a hollow reed pen next to it. Sappho, the greatest poet since Homer of the Iliad and the Odyssey, had written a new verse, and under his roof! To have one blessed by the gods honor his household in such a way was considered good luck, and the king approached the new poem like a high priestess of one of the mystery religions might approach Demeter's alter. He delicately picked up the work, saw that the title was "An Ode to Clara's Lips," and began to read. "My lips hunger," he read aloud by the flame of a nearby oil lamp, noting that the poem was four verses, "For her moist lips, the taste of which is sweeter that any honey, and the bouquet more intoxicating than..." he stopped, reading the next few lines silently to himself as Sappho herself entered the room with Clara and the disguised Efterpi in tow. "King Adrastos," Sappho said, smirking at the way he nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized he was no longer alone, "While I'm flattered by your interest in my verse, I do wish you'd wait until I was finished with it." The king looked at Sappho, then at the papyrus, then at the poet once more. "'Clara's Lips,' this... This isn't about the lips of her mouth, is it?" Sappho raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms, "Why King Adrastos, I hardly would've taken you for a prude." Clara went over to the King and tilted his hands so she could read the papyrus as well. "'More luscious than a Cyprian grape,' am I? I'm not sure whether or not I should be mortified or flattered." "Be flattered," Sappho responded with a wave of her hand, "It looks better on you." "Sappho," Adrastos said as he gave the papyrus over to Clara, "There are certain protocols of etiquette when under another's roof, such as letting your host know you're leaving for a bit and... Hello," he said as he now noticed Efterpi standing by the bed holding her lyre, "And who is this?" he asked, the young brunette squirming uncomfortably in her silks under his gaze. "A girl I met on the streets," Sappho answered, "The poor thing was thrown out to live on the streets by a cruel stepmother and when I saw her on the streets, well, my heart melted, my senses took flight, and desiring the child I brought her here." "You what?" the king asked in astonishment, "You mean, you and her... But I thought you were with her," he said, motioning to Clara. "I am," she said, taking her beloved's hand in hers, "But she knows I cannot be tied down to a single love, don't you Clara dear?" she asked, smiling at her partner. Clara narrowed her eyes as she smiled back, "Of course, Sappho my love," she answered through gritted teeth, causing the poet to wince as she squeezed her hand hard. "I... I see," the bewildered king answered, "Still, two lovers, at your age?" Sappho frowned at the king. "I'm only four and fifty, Kind Adrastos. I'm old, not dead." Taking a breath to calm herself after the perceived slight, she continued, "Anyways, since I have taken a liking to the fair nymph, I wish to bring her back with me to Lesbos when Clara and I leave tomorrow with your daughter. So if you could just order a letter of transit for her, we..." "Sappho, I'm sorry but... Please don't be offended, but I can't do that." The elder tilted her head as she scrutinized him, "Can't help me?" "Please try to understand," Adrastos continued, "This isn't Lesbos, it's Athens, and we have rather unique laws concerning citizenship and who can and cannot freely pass back and forth through our borders." "Meaning?" "Meaning that if the father is dead, and the stepmother yet lives, then she is still the girl's legal guardian." "What?" Sappho asked in disbelief, "But it's the stepmother who kicked her out of the home! It's because of her that the girl lives on the streets!" "Maybe, but the girl is not yet a woman, and even if she were only male Athenians are allowed citizenship and legal right to decide a daughter's future. Normally in such a case, the father and the father alone can authorize the girl's exit to Lesbos with you, but as you say the father is dead. Therefore, by Athenian law, in his absence the girl becomes the property of the stepmother by default. Unless of course she has any living male relatives she knows of, such as an uncle or even a brother." Sappho turned to Efterpi, who sadly shook her head. "So in order for her to leave with us," the poet said as she turned back to the king, "We need the stepmother's consent, correct?" "Exactly," King Adrastos said, " Athens is not an absolute monarchy, power is shared among the nobles of the Senate and myself, and even I cannot forego the laws of the land. I'm sorry." The poet frowned. It seemed that King Adrastos of Athens was little more than a figurehead, and that helping Efterpi would be more difficult than she would've suspected. "I see," she said at last. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" "Yes. Let your servants know I wish them to bring a tub in here for a bath, along with hot water. Also, I plan to go out once more from the palace this morning, if you don't mind." "What, again?" Adrastos asked. "Yes, again. And king," she said with a smile as she batted her eyes at him, "At least I'm letting you know I'm going out this time." The king didn't say a word as he shook his head in exasperation and turned to leave. Once the king was safely out of the room, Sappho clutched her now sore hand close to her, "Ow! Clara, was it absolutely necessary to crush my writing hand?" "You're lucky that's all I crushed, you scoundrel," her companion scolded. "And what was I supposed to say? I couldn't know that lout Adrastos would be here, could I? I had to give him something so he'd leave the girl in peace. Besides, given my reputation I seriously doubt he'll question my story." "Um... Sappho?" Both Sappho and Clara now turned their attention back to Efterpi, the young woman stepping timidly forward as she addressed the poet, "Sappho, I appreciate all you're trying to do for me, but I'm not sure I understand it. Why are you trying to help me? You don't even know me. Besides, if you're here for Gyrinna..." "No, you're wrong," she answered as she gently cupped the youth's chin in her hand, "As far as Princess Gyrinna goes, I'm afraid both her and I are currently political pawns in a game of diplomacy being played out between Athens and Lesbos. And as for not knowing you, child I've known dozens of young women like you in Asia Minor, Lydia, Caria, Chalcidice and all points in between. This is a man's world, which is why we women must resort to our wits and our cunning to gain advantage, and why I'm willing to help you any way I can. Now according to that ass of a king of yours, if we are to get you out of here so you and Princess Gyrinna can be together, I have to get your stepmother's permission. What is her name and where is she?" "Her name is the Lady Phedra, and she lives in my father's home in Melite. But she's a proud and arrogant woman, and I don't know if she'd be willing to see anyone unannounced." "I am Sappho," the poet responded, "She will see me." Turning to Clara, she strode over to her companion with a determined look in her eyes, "I'll be back soon, I promise. Meanwhile, when the king's servants bring in the tub and water for the bath, have Efterpi wash the perfume and paint from her face, and try to keep her out of sight until I return." Sappho paused and stepped closer, "Clara," she said, her voice softening as she reached up to tenderly stroke her cheek, "I know I can be a pain, and your nerves are probably frayed to the breaking point on my account. But please, be patient with me for just a bit longer?" Clara tried to look sternly at her, but soon enough her countenance lightened. "You're lucky I love you so," she whispered as she leaned forward, Efterpi turning her head to give the two lovers a bit of privacy as their lips came together. "I'll be back soon," Sappho repeated as she and Clara separated. Turning to Efterpi, she smiled confidently, "Don't worry about that stepmother of yours. I've been around aristocrats all my life, so I know a thing or two about speaking their humbuggery. Now just where in Melite is Lady Phedra anyways?" "On a street named after the famed Andromeda," Efterpi answered, "In a large white estate surrounded by cypress and a high gate. Oh, do be careful..." "Of course," Sappho said as she took up her staff and headed for the door, adding, "Stay here until I return." And with that, she left the palace once more, this time in a royal carriage headed for the Athenian province of Melite. An hour later, after passing verdant vineyards and lush forest land, Sappho's carriage arrived in Melite. Finding Andromeda's street was fairly simple, as was locating Lady Phedra's estate. The opulent fenced in structure stood out with its columned front, scented flower garden and statuary just inside the gate. Approaching the entrance, she was met by a young woman who, to put it politely, looked quite well fed. Sappho told the girl to go to the mistress of the house and explain she had business with her. The girl disappeared into the building, reappearing a short time later to unlock the gated entrance and show her in. Inside the home Sappho saw more statuary, as well as several exotic looking plants sitting in ornately decorated pots. She also saw, above every doorpost, the image of a phallus carved in relief, symbol of good luck and fertility, while the walls themselves were covered with lush frescoes of satyrs and nymphs frolicking in forest glens. At last she was shown to a door next to a burning incense censer. Entering the chamber, she found it filled with sunlight through two large windows, their curtains drawn back to reveal a large bed, far larger than the one provided for Sappho and Clara back at the palace, and covered in bear skins and finely woven sheets of an Arcadian weave. In the center of the bed, lounging next to a fully nude young man, was a woman in her late thirties with jet black hair and amber eyes, a pink toga leaving little to the imagination. With a snap of her fingers, the young man got up and went over to a table by one of the windows, poured wine from a wineskin into a jeweled chalice, and passed it to her. He then left the room, Sappho's eyes following his movements until the door was shut behind him. "You don't seem too shocked to find a naked man here," the woman observed as she sipped the wine from her goblet. Sappho shrugged her shoulders, "I did come unannounced after all, besides," she added as she now met the woman's gaze, "I've seen bigger." At that the woman laughed, "It's indeed true what they say of your sharp wit, Sappho of Lesbos. I am Phedra." "As I gathered," the poet responded as she came closer, "And he was?" "Unimportant," Phedra responded offhandedly, adding, "He's a would-be suitor for one of my daughters. Let's just say I wished to examine his worthiness," she said with a wink. Receiving no reply to her remark, she sipped once more from her cup. "So what brings the great Sappho to my abode?" "Efterpi," the poet answered, causing the other woman to choke a bit on her wine. "Efterpi? That annoying wench? Why should you wish to see me about her? She doesn't even reside beneath my roof anymore." "Exactly," Sappho said, "I wish to take her with me to Lesbos when I leave tomorrow with Princess Gyrinna. You've cast the girl out; she obviously means nothing to you. I wish you to sign her over to me." Lady Phedra began to stroke her cheek as she thoughtfully studied the older woman before her. Sappho didn't like the look in her eyes. The woman was obviously obsessed with status and appearance, one could see such by the décor she surrounded herself with and the way she presented herself, to say nothing of the fact she cast her stepdaughter from the house in order to secure her own children's future and her own. She was a social climber, and Sappho could tell she was trying to figure out what she could get out of releasing Efterpi to her. "Very well, I'll release Efterpi to you. For a price, that is." Sappho tightened her grip upon her staff, "And what is your price?" "I have two daughters," Phedra began, "You've already met Neoma, she opened the gate to you. My other daughter, Urania, doesn't leave her room much. She's a bit touched I'm afraid, poor thing's an infant in an adolescent's body. The only thing either have going for them is my fortune, and because of that alone several of the most prominent of Athens' male population would give quite a bit to have them..." "As I've seen," Sappho quipped. "Yes, well, the wealthier their suitor is, the better I as the mother-in-law will be set. Now then, if they were to gain an education in oratory, etiquette and song from the great Sappho of Lesbos, not just Athenian society but men throughout Asia Minor and as far away as Lydia, Mysia and Phrygia would seek them out." "I see," Sappho said, narrowing her eyes as she studied Lady Phedra, "So if I allow your daughters admission into my academy, you'll sign her over to me? Is that it?" "Not quite," Phaedra answered. She stood up, allowing Sappho to see that the toga she wore was only a flimsy sheet of pink silk draped over her statuesque body and held in place by a cord tied around her waste. It covered her front and back, but intentionally left her sides bare. Swinging her hips seductively she came towards the poet, smiling at her through half-closed eyelids. "Your beauty has become legendary, you know," she purred, taking yet another sip from her goblet as she slinked around the other woman, "Even in Athens, Sappho is synonymous with love and beauty. And now, seeing you before me, I think I understand why. Even at five and fifty..." "Four and fifty," Sappho corrected. "...Four and fifty, and with grey hairs mixed in with gold, you're still quite alluring." "Indeed?" Sappho asked, as the woman once more came around to face her. "I've always found older, more experienced women captivating. And as you've no doubt guessed, I find you to be very attractive. You may have the whelp Efterpi in exchange for the admission of my two daughters into your school, and in exchange for sharing my bed." Sappho said nothing; she only stared more intensely at the woman before her. Phedra simply laughed at her reaction. "Oh, come now. There's no need to scowl so. After all, I'm not exactly unattractive myself, am I? Besides, from what I've heard, in your youth you had more than your own fair share of conquests, both men and women. Sometimes both at the same time, if the tales they tell are true. And besides, I was there yesterday to behold your arrival into the city with the king and that... Well, face facts dear; you can put her in pretty garments and fix her hair up all you wish, but that woman you arrived with yesterday is as common as the dirt beneath your sandals and you know it..." "Enough!" Sappho yelled angrily, slamming her staff to the floor with a loud thud that caught the Lady Phedra by surprise, "You presume too much, you pompous social climbing wench! I'll not be treated like one of those toady suitors you keep around as pets for your amusement, and I'll not stand for your speaking ill of Clara!" she said, her voice cracking at the end. Lady Phedra's eyes widened momentarily in fear at the outburst, taking a step back and looking away from Sappho's angry glare as she recovered herself. "Well," she finally said, "You need not cause such a rumpus. After all, we aren't all that different in matters of the boudoir." "Maybe," Sappho responded, "Then again, maybe the stories told about me for the most part are just that; stories. Maybe I'm nowhere near as promiscuous as I allow people to believe. Maybe making love is more than simply an act or a pastime to me. Maybe it means more to me than you." "Oh please, don't presume to lecture me on morals. Look, you want the girl, admit it. I don't blame you; I half fancied the pup myself. On my end I want you, both for your beauty and for the benefits of good fortune involved in loving one who is loved of the gods, and of Aphrodite in particular. You see," she said in a hushed tone, "I know a thing or two about the dark arts, and if we were to share such an intimate act no doubt some of your luck will wash upon me as well." At that Sappho smirked, "I've heard many a superstitious hogwash in my day, but this is the first time I've ever heard of anybody looking upon my vagina as some sort of good luck charm." Rather than being offended, Phedra chuckled as she finished off her wine. "Be that as it may, those are my terms. Admit my daughters and share my bed, or Efterpi stays on the street. I've been invited to the soirée at the palace tonight to say a fond farewell to the Princess Gyrinna. You have until tonight to change your mind." Turning her back on Sappho, she strutted to the door and opened it, "Shall I have my daughter Neoma lead you back to the gate?" "Thanks," Sappho hissed, "But I'll show myself out." With that she brushed roughly past Lady Phedra and strode angrily from the house, slamming the gate closed behind her as she headed for the royal carriage waiting to take her back to the palace. -To Be Continued- End Notes: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Princess Gyrinna. She'll be playing a prominent role in the finale next chapter. This chapter is for Shanejayell and Breaktherules, whose support and friendship are greatly appreciated.
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