Courtesan's Daughter

one Ancient Athens, 350 B.C.E. "Gate, ho!" "Minta, see who's making that racket," Mama commanded. "Don't unbar the door unless you're sure of him." "I'll go too, Mama." I put out a hand to stop my spindle. We were safe in my father's house in Athens, the little house by the Whispering Herm; nobody could touch us here. My heart thudded nonetheless. I lifted my grandmother's thigh shield with both hands and set it very carefully on the floor. Then I ran. Minta is a faithful slave, but she has no judgment about men. Anyone with a laugh and an easy word can get by her. By the time I reached the gate room, the fool had already lifted the heavy bar. Two men pushed past her. I didn't recognize the first one, but I knew Phrynion at once, squatty frog-face, with his bulging eyes and fat, red pouty lips. He looked up at me and laughed. My hatred surged back as I heard the nasty sound. His right hand still tugged at his scraggly beard. His teeth were still yellow and his breath still stank of garlic and decay. After three years of freedom, Phrynion had me in his power again. My nightmare had come true. I closed my eyes and felt as if I were nine again, and not almost fourteen years old. I remembered the child I had been, and the desperate year whose memories were distilled into my ghastly dreams. It all began with another of Father's get-rich-quick schemes. These schemes always demanded money, which Father always failed to have. None of his friends and relatives would lend him so much as a copper obol, so he was delighted to make an arrangement with one of the city officials, even at a very high interest rate. Unfortunately, the official had "borrowed" from the public treasury. When arrested, he pleaded for mercy. He said Father had blackmailed him. This scheme not only failed to make us rich; Father had to leave Athens in a hurry, without Mama and me. The rent for our little rooms behind the cobbler's shop was paid ahead for one month. If Mama didn't find another place, we'd be out on the street. No use asking Father's people; they might despise him, but they hated her. I didn't see that clearly at the time, of course. If I had been older, I'd have been terrified. Maybe not, though. Mama inspired perfect confidence. I never doubted that she would turn this seeming calamity to our advantage. She could not solve Father's problems, but she would look after us. Mama had lived with Phrynion long ago. He promised to give her slaves, fine clothes and parties if she came back to him again. "Just until your father sends for us," she told me. "You'll like it, Phano--a big house, and meat on the table every day. I can manage Phrynion well enough. I have done it before." Mama was wrong, and we all paid for it. This time Phrynion did the managing. Minta slept with the slaves. I slept with the pigs. Mama slept with Phrynion. He barred her door whenever he went out. He beat me every time he saw the hatred in my eyes. Like most rich men's homes, Phrynion's house was built around an inner courtyard. It was two stories high, with a set of stairs on each side of the courtyard leading to the balcony and across it to the upper rooms. The pigsty was on the ground floor at the far end, as far as possible from the gatehouse, where Nesso was always on guard. As winter wore on, I came to believe that my only escape would be through death. Often enough, I hoped it would be soon. The only good thing in that desperate year was that I learned to spin. Delia, the housekeeper, taught me, but I have a natural skill for the work. The great goddess Athene gave me the gift. When I sat, or stood, with spindle twirling, my back no longer ached from Phrynion's beatings. Indeed, the hated house itself vanished. I passed into some dream where nothing existed but the spinner, the wool basket and the fine yarn twirling fGalloway, Priscilla is the author of 'Courtesan's Daughter' with ISBN 9780385729079 and ISBN 0385729073.