Sappho's Leap by Erica Jong Page A

chest. Free! I was free of Cercylas! And then I immediately felt guilt for rejoicing at his death.
    â€œI know how you grieve, Sappho,” Isis said. “Let me comfort you.”
    â€œGo home, Prax,” I said, “and tell my mother I will return soon.”
    â€œHow soon?” Prax asked bitterly, but, grudgingly, she did as she was told.
    Isis and I went away to our private cave under the house and laughed until we cried.
    Isis’ arms were round and muscular yet slim. The space between her breasts smelled of roses and oranges. After our ecstasies of mutual release, I leaned over to kiss her there. She pulled away.
    â€œYou must go to Egypt,” she said gravely, “and protect your legacy.”
    â€œMy brothers would not steal from me.”
    â€œPerhaps they would not, but they might love women who would . You know how weak men can be. If you go, I will join you as soon as I’m able.”
    We went back upstairs to Isis’ consulting chamber. There her clients waited impatiently to hear the future. As if time didn’t go quickly enough, humans feel they have to hurry it with prophecies.
    Waiting among Isis’ followers was a fat bearded man, dressed like a Lydian nobleman, and covered in golden trinkets—chains, hanging seals, rings, all manner of gewgaws. He looked at me steadily. His eyes seemed to penetrate my chiton.
    I looked away. Then I looked back at him. He nodded at me.
    â€œYou are the singer Sappho?” he asked.
    I was thunderstruck. I didn’t immediately answer.
    â€œAlcaeus of Lesbos would have news of you.”
    â€œAnd who are you?” I asked.
    â€œI am Cyrus of Sardis,” the fat man said. “I met Alcaeus at the court of Alyattes, where he is much in favor.”
    â€œAlcaeus of Lesbos?” I asked. “Where is he now?” The excitement in my voice immediately alerted Isis.
    â€œWho is this Alcaeus of Lesbos?” she asked.
    â€œIf you ask me, he is smitten with a certain singer called Sappho,” Cyrus of Sardis said.
    Isis looked stricken. “Tell me who he is!”
    â€œOnly my singing teacher from Lesbos,” I said to them both.
    â€œKnow then that he is now the favorite of the king of Lydia and enjoys much power in the Lydian court from which I come. He advises the great king of Lydia about how to spend his gold. He has been sent to Delphi to consult the oracle on behalf of the king.”
    â€œThat oracle knows nothing!” Isis said, her eyes flashing in anger. “She is a fraud!”
    I had never seen Isis so upset. Was she upset about a rival lover or a rival oracle?
    â€œThe priests control her every utterance,” said Isis. “They drug her and keep her in a state of twilight consciousness, then bring her out to babble nonsense so they can exact tribute. The whole shrine at Delphi is a fraud!”
    Cyrus threw up his stubby hands. “I have no doubt that better oracles exist, but the great King Alyattes swears by that one. He says that the sacred mists fill the mind with visions of times to come. He has sent Alcaeus there to divine the future of his empire.”
    â€œThen he is a fool,” Isis said, “and he will come to grief.”
    â€œI have no doubt you are right,” said Cyrus, “but who can argue with great rulers?”
    Isis stormed out of the waiting area and left me alone with Cyrus of Sardis.
    â€œTell me—is Alcaeus well? Is he happy?”
    â€œNot happy without you, my lady.”
    At this my heart leapt. I may have been momentarily besotted with Isis, but still I longed to see Alcaeus. The strength of my feelings for both of them confused me.
    â€œHow can I find him?” I asked Cyrus.
    â€œHe will doubtless pass much time in Delphi, awaiting the oracle’s words.”
    â€œI cannot be with my daughter here and in Delphi and Egypt at the same time,” I sighed.
    â€œPerhaps you require a courier to do your bidding?