Chapter Nine
Barking dogs did little to mask the silence that filled the courtyard.
A woman had openly, in her own home, admitted to taking a man other than her husband.
It seemed absurd, yet Phile continued to observe me with nothing more than a hint of amusement.
Her hand now rested on Hirtus’s thigh. He was completely relaxed.
Had I misread her position entirely? Was she not a married woman but a mistress?
A freed whore perhaps, who now took men where and when she desired?
A hundred questions teetered on the tip of my tongue, yet I did not dare voice them. In the end, it was Phile who spoke.
“I can see my words have made you ill at ease. I apologize. You have told me so much about yourself. It is time I repaid the favor. First, you must remind me. You have been married for six years, you said. How old were you when you were given to your husband?”
“Twelve.”
Phile let out a low hiss between her teeth.
“I was similar. Thirteen years of age. Though I had been betrothed since I was five to a man fifteen years my senior. He was a good husband, as far as they went, and I a good wife, although I had the failing of only giving him daughters.”
At least you gave him children, I wanted to say. I had not managed even that.
“He was wealthy,” Phile continued. “Obscenely so. I believe your husband was the same, at least for a short while?”
“It came from his father,” I replied. “Morsimus does not know how to earn money any more than he knows how to keep it.”
Phile’s eyebrow flickered upward. It seemed to be a story she was familiar with.
“Well, mine did. He was shrewd. Very shrewd indeed. Though he worried a great deal—about his wealth, about his daughters. Which was why, when I saw Hirtus, I saw a way for us both to thrive.”
She turned to the man she had called her lover and gazed into his eyes, her smile mirrored by his.
Their movements were slight, intimate. I did not know if it was jealousy or unease I felt in that moment; all I could be certain of was that I was observing an emotion I had never experienced. And Phile seemed aware of this.
“You have not been in love, I assume?”
Despite her request for honesty, I did not answer. Of course I had not been in love, other than my idiotic infatuation with my husband at the beginning of our marriage. But that was not love. That was ignorance. When I offered only silence, Phile continued.
“I understand. Well, I believed I had. And in fairness to my husband, I felt a deep affection for him. The gratitude I felt for the security he offered me and our daughters was a type of love, and not one I took lightly. But when I saw Hirtus for the first time, something stirred within me. Something we women are told to keep hidden.” There was an intensity to her voice, though it faded quickly as she continued her story.
“I was walking through the agora in Thymbra when I stumbled upon him. This beautiful man, with eyes like obsidian and the strength of ten oxen, with chains around his ankles and lash marks on his back. I have seen hundreds of men in my life, slaves and noblemen. I have even been in the presence of a prince and a demigod, yet in none of those instances did I feel what I felt in that moment. I had been struck through the breastbone with Eros’s arrow, as sure as the gods of Olympus watch over us. ”
“What did you do?”
Phile smiled, knowing I had been caught in her tale. I cursed myself for seeming so eager.
“I would have done anything, I believe, but thankfully, drastic measures were not required. I rushed to find my husband, where I told him there was a slave he must buy.”
“And he did?” Once again, as though from a distance, I heard myself ask the question. It was preposterous enough that this woman would tell me of the attraction she felt to a slave; to mention such a thing to her husband would have been tantamount to suicide. Yet Phile only smiled.
“I persuaded my husband that it was for security. No fool would break into our home or hurt our daughters with a man like him at our side. And my husband agreed.”
So he was a slave. My first instinct had been correct, which begged the question of whether the looks of intimacy Hirtus offered Phile were true or whether he, like I, was doing whatever was needed to survive. Phile offered the answer freely.
“When my husband died, he wrote me into his will. Very modern, I know, but as I said, I had daughters who would not, by law, inherit his wealth. The thought of his brothers and nephews inheriting the fruits of his labor was enough for him to take drastic action. He did not leave it all to me by any means, but he returned my dowry, plus some extra. More than enough to buy Hirtus his freedom.”
“The greatest gift I could ever have been given. Only I did not want to be free of her.”
Hirtus looked at me as he said this, his eyes glinting with a smile. His voice was even deeper than I had first thought and lilted with an accent I could not place.
“Well, you did not want to leave me. That is not the same thing.” Phile kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“My daughters were already married with sons of their own and no need for me. So we took what I was left and built this home here, away from gossip and prying eyes, where we could live as husband and wife. That is who we are. That is our story. Our truth, as I promised you.”
I picked up the cup beside me, only to discover it was empty. I did not wait for either of them to offer me more but reached for the amphora and filled up the wine myself.
“Do others in the village know?” I asked.
“The women? Most certainly. The men? Well, let’s just say your husband is not the only one who has retreated here to escape his problems. It is sad, yes, but it has given the women strength. We get by together.”
“You said that you can help me?” I said, suddenly aware of the time we had wiled away. “How? There are no places I can sell myself, we do not have land to farm, and there is no polis here to support those in need. I do not know what I can do.”
Phile nodded. The glint in her eye that had been present when talking about Hirtus was gone.
“I understand,” she said. “But do not worry. You will not need a polis. We will see you are kept well without the need to sell yourself.”
Hearing those words felt as though a thousand weights had been lifted from my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said, breathing out the words in a gasp.
“Thank you.” Though as quickly as I plied Phile with my gratitude, the knots in my stomach returned, for I still did not know what she expected of me in return.
I did not want to waste time with idle chatter, not when Morsimus was unaware that I had left the house, but I still wished to know more. Thankfully, Phile seemed to sense this.
“I will find you respectable employment. Under me, women take all roles other than goatherding,” she said. “That I keep for the young men. I have a need for more women tanning the hides. It is far from glamorous, but well-cleaned hides sell for good money. Which is why you are here.”
“What about my husband? Do you have employment for him?” I asked.
Phile pursed her lips. “You have already told me that your husband does not know how to work. I wager he has never so much as cut a carrot with a knife, let alone skinned an animal. I run an efficient business, but I only employ women inside the tannery. So what do you say? Will you join us?”
There was much I did not yet know about her, much that I wished to question, but none of those uncertainties mattered more than me bringing home coins and keeping myself out of the brothels.
“And what do I tell Morsimus?” I asked.
“That you have secured a position at the tannery, and you will be paid at the end of each day. He will not need to know any more than that.”