Chapter Five
Aphrodite’s Feast
It was a business.
From the top of its stone towers to the bottom of its storage vault, the legendary establishment known as Aphrodite’s Feast had always been treated like a business because it was.
It was a place where women who needed to earn a living could earn it with some dignity.
Given the fact that it was technically a brothel, perhaps that seemed like the paradox, but it wasn’t.
Aphrodite’s Feast was a well-run and well-supplied establishment, and in this case, it supplied what many men were looking for.
The company of a beautiful woman.
In truth, there had been a brothel on this location for centuries.
Aphrodite’s Feast had been given its name because it was built on an ancient Roman temple dedicated to the wine god, Bacchus.
Although that seemed strange, given the region, which was not a wine-producing region, it was nonetheless true that the temple had been dedicated to the god of drunks.
It was equally possible that was why the temple had been so widely used when the Romans occupied western England.
Those who appreciated drink kept the temple in good repair, and that included a massive mosaic on the floor depicting a great feast with many beautiful women.
Hence the name of the establishment—Aphrodite’s Feast.
Sometime after the Romans, during the Dark Ages, it had fallen into some disrepair, but an enterprising person saw the value in it and used the building as both an inn and a brothel.
They had reinforced the walls and built more rooms, and more stories, and as the centuries passed, the building continued to be reinforced and built upon until the ancestors of Chester de Long won the property in a game of chance.
It was the House of de Long that had turned it into a refuge for the seagoing men who would travel down the mouth of the River Avon and throw their anchors in the bend of the river near Bristol Castle.
Back then, Aphrodite’s Feast had been a place of rest and respite and food, and eventually, they added women to give comfort to those who’d been at sea for a very long time.
The establishment became so popular, in fact, that they leaned in heavily to the “companion women” aspect of it, and that was how it became a brothel.
But it wasn’t just any brothel.
There were rules.
It seemed that the wife of a de Long ancestor had a conscience.
She was a benevolent woman known for giving alms to the poor, but she also saw that there were many widowed or destitute women who needed a way to support their families.
Relying on the charity of others never supplied enough for a family to survive, and that was the truth.
Committing oneself to the church as a beguine guaranteed a life of discomfort and loneliness.
Therefore, Lady Matilda de Long offered them the opportunity to earn money at Aphrodite’s Feast by becoming a companionable woman for men who were in need of such things.
But the guidelines were strict.
Lady de Long was specific with the women seeking a way to earn money.
Their presence was purely for entertainment—men paid them well to eat with them, talk to them, perhaps sing with them or even dance.
She never, under any circumstances, forced them into providing sexual favors, which was why the church didn’t outright condemn the business.
Even they saw that it was a way for destitute women to earn, something incredibly difficult in the society of the day.
However, that didn’t mean that sexual favors weren’t given.
It had always been the longstanding policy that anything sexual was purely at the discretion of the woman.
If she wanted to, she could. Any sexual relations between the women and the clients were always consensual, unheard of for a brothel.
But if the women were abused in any way, perhaps if a man forced himself upon her, then justice was very swift.
There was a team of eight men and an overseer at Aphrodite’s Feast known as The Guardians, whose sole responsibility was the safety of the women and punishing anyone who got out of hand.
Depending on the level of abuse, men could find themselves with a cut throat and tossed into the river.
At Aphrodite’s Feast, there were no second chances when the women were abused.
And everybody knew it.
Therefore, it was quite a different place, in more ways than one.
In addition to the unique manner in which it did business, Aphrodite’s Feast was more elegantly appointed than the finest palaces on the planet.
There were beautiful pieces of art, the finest food to be had, and the women who worked there were finely clothed and healthy.
In a smaller port city like Bristol, perhaps a usual brothel wouldn’t have so much business, but Aphrodite’s Feast was unique in that men specifically traveled to Bristol to visit it.
It wasn’t usual in the least. It was like nothing in the known world.
It was, in fact, a world of its own.
And it was a world where Desdra le Daire lived.
It was her world. On days like today, it was a world she was grateful for as she tended to the accounts from the previous day.
That was her role in Aphrodite’s Feast—not as a companion woman, or a cook, or any number of tasks women undertook at the establishment—a role that saw her handle the business end of things.
That was what she was suited for because she was well educated, so that was what she accomplished.
Truthfully, in the weeks following Lord Chester’s passing, she had been determined more than ever to protect the man’s legacy.
His entire family’s legacy. He wasn’t even a relative, but he had been the one person in her life who had shown her kindness, and she would return the favor.
She knew nothing about this nephew to whom he’d left everything, but with God as her witness, she was going to protect Chester’s legacy even from him.
“Desi!”
A young woman burst into the chamber, seemingly frantic. Startled from her daydreams, Desdra nearly dropped her quill.
“God’s Bones,” she said, putting her hand over her chest to still her rapid heart. “Why did you do that? What is so important, Melaina?”
Melaina wasn’t her real name. The woman had bottomless brown eyes, curly brown hair, and she was clad in a garment that looked like the ones worn by the women on the mosaic—flowing and white, in this case muslin.
She was also young, and excitable, and she found herself at Aphrodite’s Feast because she had elderly grandparents to support.
Thanks to their granddaughter, they weren’t going to starve in their old age.
“He’s here!” Melaina gasped, rushing over to grasp Desdra by the hand. “Quickly! Come and look!”
“Who?” Desdra demanded.
“Lord Chester’s nephew!”
That had Desdra up from her chair, allowing herself to be dragged across the chamber to the arched windows that faced the street below.
That muddy, well-traveled street that paralleled the River Avon as it wound its way through town.
There were people down there going about their business because Aphrodite’s Feast was located in a busier section of town.
Having once been a temple centuries ago, it was natural that, over the years, other buildings were built up around it.
This section of town happened to be, ironically, gold- and silversmiths.
There were even a few jewelers. When Aphrodite’s Feast first came into existence, men without the coin to spend on the ladies inside would go around town and try to sell their valuables.
They were almost inevitably sold to the Jews, gold- and silversmiths, and upon realizing why these men were seeking to sell their possessions, the smithies moved their business locations to the block containing the brothel.
That way, a man could sell what he needed to sell immediately and go straight into the establishment.
It was a very lucrative arrangement.
There were some people either passing along the street or attending the businesses down the avenue, but there was also a big group of men riding expensive horses right at the entrance to Aphrodite’s Feast. Desdra could see them looking up at the building in awe.
When they saw her, on the second floor directly above the entry, she ducked back, looking at Melaina with chagrin.
“How do you know it is the nephew?” she said. “Did he announce himself?”
Melaina nodded eagerly. “Aye,” she said. “To The Guardians at the door. He said his name was Sir Jareth de Leybourne.”
Hearing that name was a blow. Desdra knew that was, indeed, the nephew, because she had been the one to send him Chester’s missive. She hadn’t expected to see the man nearly so soon.
He was here!
“Botheration,” she spat. “He did not even have the courtesy to send word of his arrival.”
Melaina watched her as she rushed toward the chamber door. Skittish, she quickly followed. “What do you intend to do?” she said.
Desdra was already on the stairwell, heading down the stone steps that were scrubbed with sand so they wouldn’t be slippery.
“Berate him for not notifying us that he was coming,” she said as she took the stairs too fast. “Then I shall invite him in and introduce him to Lord Chester’s grand holding.”