Amazon Moon (17 page)

That evening, Octos gave me another dose of his sour wisdom:

"Melos, here's a simple fact most people refuse to see: Soldiers are killers. They're trained to kill. They're armed to kill. The only purpose of an army is to kill opposing troops. All the flag-waving patriotism can't hide the gory truth about warriors. Arctinus was a prime example. He lived by the blade and died by it."

I thought about his comment, then answered: "Since every land arms its young men to slay the young men of other lands, doesn't this show that humanity is crazy?"

"Yes," Octos replied. "But it's ingrained in us. There's something inside people that makes us relish fighting and killing. Look at all the proud paintings and sculptures of battle scenes. Listen to the bards chant the glories of conquerors. They rouse war feeling in people, especially young men. It’s patriotism. People have a fighting spirit, and admire warriors. War supporters seem strong, heroic—but war opponents seem weak, spineless. Thus we lunge into battle."

"I still think it's crazy."

"You're right, of course," Octos said. "People are sickened by war, yet they secretly crave it. Their blood stirs for it. Humans are loony."

25

Just as affluent Greek men order favorite slave women to their beds at night, Amazons developed preferences among male slaves. For example, tough-minded Saria, the War Queen, enjoyed rough-and-tumble nights with one-legged Octos, the cynic who suited her no-nonsense, no-romance style. She permitted him to speak freely and he made her laugh. She called for him often.

We slaves who served as Amazon concubines came to view bed duty somewhat as work. Although delightful, it was a required chore about which we had little choice. It could be laborious, since we were required to continue our attentions, one way or another, until each Amazon was satisfied. With some such as the athletic Leeantha, it came quickly. With others like Theba the prince's daughter, we needed endurance. It was a task.

Some Amazons grew bawdy and boisterous about sex. One day my work assignment was to haul dried bricks from the downstream clay pit to the granary, where another wheat storage room was being built. I used a pony and a small wagon, booty from a caravan raid. As I rode past the large Amazon pool, nude bathers were sunning themselves on the grassy bank.

"Melos," Pendilee called to me. "Don't exhaust yourself. I need vigorous attention from you tonight."

Her companions laughed and cheered. I smiled and waved, but deep inside, part of me felt fatigued by the prospect of another romp on command.

Such bed duty had nothing to do with my private yearning for Litha my soulmate. I suppose that female prostitutes and concubines in all lands feel much the same: that bed is a workplace. For such people, sex and love are separate.

However, in one unfortunate instance, my on-command bed obligations brought trouble to Litha and me.

"I never summon a different man, only you," she said pointedly one night after we made love. "But you go to many women."

"I have no choice. Slaves can't refuse."

"Tell me you don't enjoy them."

"I swear it," I teased.

"You're mocking me."

"Seriously, you're the only woman I truly want. I spend every free night with you."

"Yes, but how do you think I feel on the other nights, lying here alone, knowing that you're climbing onto an Amazon?"

"I know, but what else can I do?" I looked at her squarely and added in earnest: "If fate ever gives me a chance, I will abide only with you."

She seemed partly satisfied and gripped me tightly.

In coming days our devotion for each other remained strong, even though nearly half of my nights were consumed by calls to Amazon beds. Then an unforeseen problem occurred, as follows:

Near the center of the Amazon village, the bakery stood taller than other buildings, with a flat roof reachable by outside stone steps. On dry summer nights a warrior was assigned to sleep there on a pallet under a horsehide canopy. She served as an extra sentry, the first to be awakened by any disturbance in the sleeping community.

After Mitha became a warrior, she was allowed to summon slave men as she wished. Of course, she never chose me because of my bond to her sister. Instead, she developed a preference for Andor, a big-muscled former Greek soldier who gave her ecstasy in bed. On nights when he was taken, she picked other large slaves.

One night at dinner, a girl messenger delivered my orders: I was to bathe and go to the Nubian Racha, who was assigned to sleep on the bakery roof. I obeyed. But after I limped up the outside steps, I was surprised to find Mitha sitting on the roof pallet, naked in the moonlight. We stared at each other awkwardly, confused.

"I called for Andor," she blurted.

"He was sent to Eila. Why are you at the bakery? I was told to meet Racha here."

"Comella became ill and couldn't serve as sentry over the cliff, so Racha was sent in her place. And I was told to sleep on this roof in Racha's place."

I averted my eyes from Mitha's curving body, but I couldn't stop myself from stealing glimpses. We were silent, unsure.

"Damn!" she muttered. "I was tingling with anticipation."

"We can't hurt Litha."

"No—you're right, of course."

More silence. We felt clumsy. I couldn't avoid staring at her full breasts, shining in the moonglow. She didn't try to cover herself. Finally she put her hand on my arm.

"Melos, I need a man."

"But Litha would be upset."

"We won't tell her. It's of no consequence, just a roll in bed like your visits to other Amazons. I'm merely another nighttime assignment."

I hesitated, weakening. She continued:

"We both know that your heart belongs to Litha. This won't change anything. It won't mean a thing."

I was easy to persuade. She pulled off my clothes and we plunged into lovemaking with surprising fervor. We were like animals. Perhaps our worry about Litha magnified our feelings. Afterward, we lay together, breathing hard, covered with sweat.

"Remember," she said, "say nothing to Litha."

"Of course not."

I didn't remain with her all night, but returned to the slave quarters and slept like a stone.

Subsequently I discovered—like many men, I assume—that women are mind-readers. Litha looked at me oddly but said nothing. Finally, as I arrived at her chamber one evening, she confronted me:

"Something happened with you and Mitha."

"What? What do you mean?"

"When we eat on the creek bank, you don't look at each other."

"Well, uh—"

"It's very obvious."

She was growing agitated. I choked and felt my face burning. I stammered. She pressed on, eyes blazing:

"Tell me you didn't sleep with her."

I tried to lie but my mouth wouldn't say the words. I sank down, exhausted.

"My sister! How could you? You prick!"

Angry tears filled her eyes. I cringed, feeling like an insect. She wouldn't stop.

"How could you betray the trust between us?"

I mustered enough nerve to answer:

"There was a mixup. I was ordered to the wrong bed."

"Well, why did you proceed? Why did she?"

I felt great concern for Litha and wanted to embrace her, but she probably would have struck me in the face.

"Mitha was in need, and it was no different from my other Amazon orders."

"It was different! She's my sister!"

Litha sobbed. She pushed me out the door and barred it behind me. I felt helpless. I sat on her doorstep, hearing her soft sobs in bed. Eventually I wandered back to the slave quarters, but couldn't sleep. Frantically I tried to think of a way to undo the harm, to win her back.

Bright moonlight lit the village. I set out to try the only remedy I could envision. I went to my teaching room, lit a lamp, got papyrus, and wrote:

"Litha, I love only you. I want no other. I will spend all my life with you if I can. Please forgive me. Melos."

I returned to the novice building and slid the sheet under her door. Then I went to my room and slept.

I didn't see Litha next day, or the next. I searched for her around the village. Then I met Mitha, who looked at me with concern.

"Litha was sent back to the shepherd cottage on the hill," she said. "Before she went, she told me of your confession and your note. She's angry at both of us."

"I didn't confess. She saw right through me."

Mitha smiled. "Men are so obvious." She continued:

"Don't worry. Time softens these hurts. Litha will forgive you, and me too. She is carrying your note in her tunic close to her heart. She loves you. That's why she was so upset. If you were casual to her, she would have shrugged. When you see her again, woo her as strongly as you can."

Mitha was correct. When Litha returned to the village, I rushed to her, imploring. At first she stayed aloof. But I followed her, begging. Her face softened. We went to the creek bank and talked a long time. We pledged to be faithful to each other, to the extent possible under our difficult circumstances.

26

"Do you understand how Alexander and his Macedonians gained control of Greece? It was because of the Great Sacrilege and the Third Sacred War."

Long-bearded Ankus, eyes glistening, launched another of his explanations of affairs of state. Our after-dinner circle listened intently. Predictably, crusty Octos interjected sacrilege of his own:

"I remember that war. It was over riches taken from the gullible by Delphi priests."

Ankus pressed on:

"Well, uh, yes. At the Delphi shrine, thousands of people, even kings and generals, came to hear Apollo answer their deepest questions through an oracle. The seekers first purified themselves by praying and bathing in a holy spring. They brought gold, silver and jewels as offerings to the god. The oracle priestess sat in a grotto, half in a trance, and spoke in an unknown tongue. A priest interpreted her strange words as Apollo's replies. Often the answers were mysterious and baffling, yet the questioners felt that divine revelation had flowed to them.

"As the fame of the Delphi oracle spread, wealth reaped by the priests grew so large that treasuries were built along the path to the temple. The riches of the Apollo shrine were known far and wide.

"Mountain people living around Delphi, the Phocians, had a record of trying to seize part of the gold for themselves. Twice before, their greed caused the first and second Sacred Wars. Each time, they grabbed the temple, and each time they were defeated by troops from the league of cities controlling the shrine. But the Phocians always felt that Delphi belonged to them, so they seized it once more.

"The Third Sacred War changed everything. I was fighting as a mercenary for Thessaly then. But we were no match for the Phocians. With wagonloads of gold from the Apollo treasuries, they hired a strong army of mercenaries who kept us from entering the Delphi region. And the Phocians squandered other treasure among themselves, giving silver to the king's cousins and bedecking strumpets in precious stones. When reports of this theft spread, religious Greeks were horrified. That was the Sacrilege of Delphi.

"All of Greece's great cities had been bled by constant wars and were too weak to send large armies. So Thessaly asked King Philip in Macedonia, up north, to send troops to avenge Apollo's honor. He did so, and the Third Sacred War began. Philip's son Alexander had just been born at that time.

"The conflict continued year after year. Twice the Macedonians were driven back north, but they kept returning with bigger forces. We Thessalonian mercenaries skirmished against Phocians, but Macedonians waged the major battles.

"It was a holy war, fought for religion, but I saw many unholy things. The slaughter was ghastly. Corpses lay everywhere. Farms were burned and families massacred. When my brigade captured a Phocian village, the soldiers dragged young women out onto the green, stripped them naked, and raped them. The females might have been killed but our commander halted the sport before it reached murder. The soldiers also looted everything of value from village homes. We were told that Macedonian troops did likewise, and Phocian mercenaries did the same when they took Thessalonian villages.

"In case you are curious, I didn't violate any Phocian woman or loot any home. I felt sorry for the screaming women, but I could do nothing to stop the spoils-taking."

Octos broke in again: "Sacred wars are just as monstrous as other wars. A priest will say they are righteous, but that's bunk."

Ankus continued:

"When the Macedonians finally triumphed, King Philip ordered three thousand Phocian prisoners drowned for the sacrilege against Apollo. The defenseless men were driven at swordpoint into a river and kept offshore until they sank. Their corpses filled the stream as far as the eye could see.

"The Third Sacred War gave Philip control over north-central Greece and he brought in more armies. By then, Alexander had grown to a bold teen-age commander, his father's pride. Athens and other cities saw that northerners were seizing the land, so they sent armies to resist, but ten thousand Macedonians in full battle array cannot be stopped. Resistance was crushed and Philip ruled almost all of Greece. Only Sparta showed defiance, but it was bypassed.

"The old order of feuding Greek cities ended and a unified land resulted. But Philip barely began to reign when he was assassinated by a crazed guard, and Alexander became supreme. We all know how he led both Greece and Macedonia in the mightiest conquest ever known, before he died young."

Our slave circle applauded Ankus for his grasp of momentous events. Octos delivered another sarcasm:

"If priests hadn't filched all that wealth through the oracle, there would have been no gold to steal, so the Third Sacred War wouldn't have occurred, and the Macedonians wouldn't have been invited—thus Greek cities could have continued fighting each other, like the bad old days."

We muttered sardonic agreement. Twilight had fallen over the Amazon valley. We drifted into the slave quarters to our bunks.