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| Welcome to my Blog! Wander through worlds real and fictional, meet interesting people, visit exciting places and find good books to enjoy along the way! |
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| About the Book |
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| Read An Excerpt |
Limander, a slave and bard to Aspasia, meets a young
nobleman and falls for him. Love between slave and noble carries the death
penalty.
The young scribe was last to leave and I waited, head
bowed, for him to go so that I could carry out the screens. A gold band circled
the neck of his tunic – he was of high standing in Athens, from one of the five
noble families of the city. He dropped the stylus into his satchel but the
tablet slipped from his fingers and fell face down on the floor and I heard the
crack as the wax split across. He stared at it as if terrified, dropped to all
fours and put out a hand to touch it. A leader of the people does not behave
like this. After a moment I went over and stood beside him.
‘Sir. May I help you?’
He looked up at me, his eyes moist with tears. He
seemed so young.
‘The musician! None of them appreciated you, you sang
so beautifully of love and all they want to do is talk about politics and
speech-making.’
‘Thank you. But, if I may ask, sir, is there anything I
can do for you?’
‘It’s Lord Pericles, no-one will understand. He wants
to publish these conversations for the glory of Athens and he insists on
checking everything. I am late already and now I’ve broken the tablet and he
will be angry.’
Why are you telling me so much? But I knew I could help
him and suddenly I wanted to. There was a quality of eagerness in his face and
of wanting, as if he was – I know not what. Someone who has suffered
disappointment so often that he expects it but does not stop trying. And he was
so young, anyone would want to make things better for him.
I took the tablet from him and set it on the tiles.
‘Put your hand on it to soften the wax where the crack
is, just enough. Here, let me help.’
I took his wrist and pressed his palm on the tablet.
His hand was warm in mine. When I judged the wax was ready I lifted it. I took
the stylus and smoothed over the crack where it ran between the letters. Delia
taught me how to do that.
‘There. Now I will make good the damaged words and it
is healed.’
I handed it to him. He looked up at me again, his eyes
wide.
‘A magician! I did not know that was possible. Thank
you for your kindness.’
I bowed.
‘Limander. Happy to help.’
He laughed.
‘I am Alcis, and you are so much like a butler – I’m
sorry, I should not say that.’
He paused as if he did not know how to put his feelings
into words.
‘You are blessed by the muse, a fortunate man. I always
wanted to sing. I am an actor – but only in my dreams. Pericles would never let
any of his clan stoop so low.’
He paused again.
‘It must be a fine thing to stand on a stage before
everyone and have them rapt, silent, intent on you, your gestures, your
singing, as if you are the only person out of all Athens who matters to them.
But they didn’t listen to you, as if they were deaf to your music. But you are
glorious.’
He glanced down, and when he looked up at me, his eyes
shone.
‘Am I a fool?’
I smiled as if I understood. How could I not?
‘An actor. Many times I have played for actors.’
I strummed a few notes and sang softly the opening
chorus of Antigone:
“Now the long blade of the sun flames forth…”
His face lit up and he joined me, his voice strong for one
so slender:
“Lying level, east to west,
It touches with glory seven-gated Thebes!
The eye of golden day strikes the white shield of the
enemy,
Lord Polynices, like an eagle, screams insult at our
land.”
He laughed and I couldn’t help laughing with him. Then,
just as suddenly as the joy had come a shadow fell on his face.
‘No, I’d love to sing with you, but I must go. Pericles
does not wait happily. But you and I, we will meet again won’t we, at the
Assembly, or the gymnasium, or the theatre or a party? We will sing again,
together? You’re new, let me show you the city.’
Another friend for me in this city, but we will meet in
none of those places because they are for citizens and nobles. I am a slave and
no comrade for you, but how can I tell you that now?
‘I’d like that,’ I replied and kept the sadness from my
face.
He stood, touched my arm, blushed, and was gone.
‘Or perhaps in this house?’ I whispered.
I lingered a moment and prayed to Necessity, pitiless
deity of all without choice, the goddess who rules slaves and heeds no man. I
had glimpsed the life I might have had in Athens, if I were a visitor, perhaps
in the train of an envoy from Sicily, not a slave from a subject nation.
I heard someone moving in the hall and looked up.
Pelion came towards me, carrying one of the screens.
‘Take care, brother. You know that lad is Lord
Pericles’ cousin? Slave and noble, that never ends well.’
His voice was steady, but there was a hesitancy in it.
‘I wanted to help him. I just did.’
He avoided my gaze.
‘We need to change your bandage. Clean hands and a
lyre, they don’t guess you’re a slave right away, but someone will see through
you. You can’t wear that bandage for ever.’
He led me back to the shed, not speaking, and dressed
my arm, as deftly as a nurse. I touched the dressing.
‘You rest,’ I said. ‘I’ll do the firewood.’
He patted my arm, careful of the mark.
‘My job.’
He took the axe and set about the logs in the yard. I hauled water and went back to the hall to scrub the spilled wine from the mosaic. Much later I returned across the courtyard under a chariot moon. I threw myself down on the straw and lay in darkness, a slave who dreamed he might live as he did in Mytilene, when he was honoured as a Bard and free. Pelion speaks the truth, I told myself. Besides, the young noble has probably forgotten you already, and you still think of him, like a fool.
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THE PENDRAGON's BANNER TRILOGY |
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| US editions |
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Historical Stories of Exile by 13 popular authors Cryssa Bazos, Anna Belfrage, Elizabeth Chadwick, Cathie Dunn, J.G. Harlond, Helen Hollick, Loretta Livingstone, Amy Maroney Alison Morton, Charlene Newcomb, Elizabeth St.John, Marian L Thorpe, Annie Whitehead. With an introduction by Deborah Swift |
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