Amber and Clay Laura Schlitz (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

her knee on my chest

gripping my wrist,

holding my arm        so she could cut.

I screamed. She was rough. Her hand shook. She hissed

hold still! She was doing a thing

she feared to do

and she wanted to get it done.

Even in the dim,

I could see the cuts:

my blood: fat drops oozing

then red ribbons

I screamed stop! but she wouldn’t stop —

My throat ached.

Something flared in my mind

like a torch catching fire:

I don’t know what I did,

or how I did it,

but I, Rhaskos, turned to smoke

or dissolved like salt in water —

after that

someone else was wailing

and the pain

and the blood

and the cries came from

someone else

only

time

stretched out

immeasurable.

When my mother set aside the knife

I came back to myself.

I thought it was over,

but it wasn’t. She took ashes

from the bowl

and rubbed them

into the cuts.

It stung. I begged her to stop,

but she wouldn’t. Not till she was done.

She let me get up.

I ran at her.

I punched her with all my strength,

I kicked her shins.

She sank down on her knees

and covered her head. She stayed like that

while I hit her

over and over

her whole body drawn together

like a closed fist.

When I stopped hitting her

I wept. It sounded like a baby crying —

I remember the shame of that.

She held out her arms

her hands were fouled with ashes and blood.

I remember her rocking me to sleep.

There was thunder in the night

glaring white

but the rain never came.

The next morning, they took my mother away.

They put her on a grain ship, headed for Athens.

I never saw her after that.

EXHIBIT 2

Necklace of twelve gold palm leaves with amber head of sphinx (?) or goddess, circa 450–400 BCE.

This unusually fine necklace was found on the Athenian Akropolis, near the ruins of the Sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia. Since the palm tree was sacred to Artemis, the necklace may have been a gift to the goddess. The sphinx head and the twelve palmettes were threaded together on a linen cord, which fell apart when the necklace was removed from the site. The necklace measures thirty centimeters, or twelve and a half inches, an average size for a Greek necklace of this period.

The sphinx pendant is of an earlier date, perhaps 500 BCE, and may be of Etruscan workmanship. The facial features show signs of rubbing and wear. Amber was sometimes worn as an amulet, especially by pregnant women; it was thought to ensure a safe childbirth. Amber is also found in the tombs of women and young girls, perhaps as a magic charm to ease the passage into the underworld.

“The gods sent that child to punish me!”

Melisto, who had just been soundly slapped, stopped bellowing, her mouth wide open. Her short life had taught her that slaves and children were often beaten; the idea that the gods might punish her mother attracted her strongly. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and spoke directly to Lysandra. “What bad thing did you do?”

Lysandra clapped her hands to her ears. “Didn’t I tell you to be silent?” she demanded. “Do I have to smack you again?”

“No,” said Melisto, answering the second question. She bottom-scuttled across the floor, ducking under the loom, setting the loom weights clanking. Once safe, she peered around the frame. “What bad thing did you do?” she persisted. “Why did the gods — ”

Lysandra lost her temper. She darted forward and caught her daughter by the elbow, almost upsetting the loom. Melisto felt her feet leave the floor. She reached out blindly, her fingers crooked like claws. Her hand closed over the necklace around her mother’s throat.

The cord snapped. Gold palm leaves fell with a sharp tinkle; the amber pendant dropped with a solid thud and rolled across the floor. Lysandra released her daughter and knelt to scoop up the pieces. Melisto retreated, her teeth bared.

Lysandra passed from fury to bafflement. She looked at the amber sphinx head in her palm; she touched the sore place on her neck, where the cord had broken. Two slave women stepped forward to calm her. They gathered the gold palmettes, showing Lysandra that none were damaged. Another cord, and the necklace would be as good as new. Melisto retreated behind the largest loom and shut her eyes to make herself invisible.

The weaving room where the women spent their days was a large space, crowded with oversized baskets, four looms, and three chairs. The windows faced south, and the light was strong. To Melisto, the yellow room was a prison. She hated the smell of new-dyed cloth, of lanolin and women’s sweat. The work she was taught there — picking through the wool for burrs, rolling it against her thigh — was the same thing over and over again. She could not bear it.

Someone was coming upstairs. Melisto pricked up her ears. Sosias, the head slave of the household, appeared in the doorway. Behind him was a tall woman with cropped hair: a slave.

Melisto stepped around the loom to see the slave woman. Under her head wrap, her hair was orange. Her pale eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was a blank.

Sosias addressed Lysandra. “I’ve found you the woman you wanted. One hundred and eighty drachmas.” He opened his fingers to convey that this was a bargain. “She’s used to looking after children; she has a firm hand. The trader assured me she’s skillful with wool work.”

Lysandra had regained her dignity. She stood gracefully, and spoke in a soft voice. “Bring her forward. I want to look at her.”

Sosias stepped aside. The slave woman was a full head taller than Lysandra, and broader in the shoulders. Lysandra pursed her delicate lips. “What is she, Sosias? Thracian? Skythian? I don’t want a barbarian. Does she speak Greek?”

“She’s Thracian. There’s a slight accent, but she speaks Greek.”

“She doesn’t look well.”

“She comes from Thessaly; she was seasick on the boat.” Sosias shrugged. “Maybe she hasn’t eaten. She comes from a good household; her master was son to Menon of Pharsalos. She’s never been sick a day. The trader swore by the gods.”

Lysandra’s eyes