if it continues into another day, he will have to be let go.
Being gentler on the horses than he had been with me, Baruch drives the carriage down the hill to the House of Hera. I leave the curtains open, letting the people see me, letting them view their Solon. A few bow or curtsy as I roll by, some turn away with faces snarled in disgust, others jut fingers at collapsed walls as if I have masonry tools in my carriage and will stop to make repairs right then and there. But the most obnoxious people are those cheering me. Any other time I would have rejoiced at this, but they don’t cheer me for my greatness or my status. No, they cheer that I have shown mercy to Herc.
My skin burns at their words. My hand grips the curtains, ready to whip them shut, but I realize that cheers are cheers. They see me as someone even greater than Herc because I have shown their hero mercy. And if he dies in these trials, it will have been I who gave him a second chance. Instead of hiding, I release my grip on the fabric to reach out of the window, wave, and brush the hands of my admirers.
By the time the carriage stops outside the House of Hera’s gate, I glow with the satisfaction of the morning. The smile pushing up my cheeks droops only the slightest when I step through the Peacock Gate to see Iolalus and the high priestess perched on a bench together as Herc stands rigidly behind them wearing what appears to be a freshly laundered tunic.
A blonde boy with a horrid cowlick holds the reins of two horses, talking to them and ignoring the adults. Iolalus chatters as Herc looks away and shifts on his feet whenever the Herene turns to him. When they see me, Herc stands even straighter and Iolalus rises to attention. The Herene takes her time, setting down the cup in her hands and smoothing her dress before standing and nodding her head to greet me.
I give the House a cursory look. I force my face to maintain its unimpressed expression as I evaluate the complex, but my blood pulses with envy at the House’s immense grandeur. Gods, the place has possibility. It would make a wonderfully spacious brothel. Much better than the cramped confines of Portaceae’s current whorehouse where I found Adneta. Plus, this location would be so convenient to the heart of the city. It’s not to say the trek beyond the city walls isn’t worth what the ladies have to offer, but it does cause problems when a man wants some pleasure once the city gates close at dark.
Such possibility. All these women puttering about could really give something back to Portaceae rather than living off the Herenes. Well, maybe not all, I think as I observe a hob-legged crone dragging a rake over the gravel paths.
“Cousins,” I say greeting them cheerfully. “You’re ready for your first task, I see. Rested? Fed?”
“Yes,” Herc says, then catches himself. “No, I mean, our things haven’t arrived.”
“And when will they?” I ask Iole. I give her my most charming smile and concerned gaze, but her face remains impassive.
“Later today. The House has been busy tending to injuries from another building collapse. Truly, Eury, you need to put money into the treasury so we can get these repairs done.”
With only a few sentences from her pert little mouth, the Herene brings a storm cloud over my sunny mood. How can someone so delicious be so serious? Perhaps if my brothel idea ever pans out, I can auction her off. A romp with one of Portaceae’s wealthy men could truly do her and my pocketbook wonders.
I could never understand why Portaceae’s founders had left overseeing the treasury to the Herenes. Every evening the accounts have to be reported to the House, and every month I have to meet with the priestess to go over the state of the treasury and budget—dull topics indeed. Did the founders not see the hassle this caused? So much running around with reporting to them income, detailing my expenses—with some creative embellishments to make Adneta’s
Being gentler on the horses than he had been with me, Baruch drives the carriage down the hill to the House of Hera. I leave the curtains open, letting the people see me, letting them view their Solon. A few bow or curtsy as I roll by, some turn away with faces snarled in disgust, others jut fingers at collapsed walls as if I have masonry tools in my carriage and will stop to make repairs right then and there. But the most obnoxious people are those cheering me. Any other time I would have rejoiced at this, but they don’t cheer me for my greatness or my status. No, they cheer that I have shown mercy to Herc.
My skin burns at their words. My hand grips the curtains, ready to whip them shut, but I realize that cheers are cheers. They see me as someone even greater than Herc because I have shown their hero mercy. And if he dies in these trials, it will have been I who gave him a second chance. Instead of hiding, I release my grip on the fabric to reach out of the window, wave, and brush the hands of my admirers.
By the time the carriage stops outside the House of Hera’s gate, I glow with the satisfaction of the morning. The smile pushing up my cheeks droops only the slightest when I step through the Peacock Gate to see Iolalus and the high priestess perched on a bench together as Herc stands rigidly behind them wearing what appears to be a freshly laundered tunic.
A blonde boy with a horrid cowlick holds the reins of two horses, talking to them and ignoring the adults. Iolalus chatters as Herc looks away and shifts on his feet whenever the Herene turns to him. When they see me, Herc stands even straighter and Iolalus rises to attention. The Herene takes her time, setting down the cup in her hands and smoothing her dress before standing and nodding her head to greet me.
I give the House a cursory look. I force my face to maintain its unimpressed expression as I evaluate the complex, but my blood pulses with envy at the House’s immense grandeur. Gods, the place has possibility. It would make a wonderfully spacious brothel. Much better than the cramped confines of Portaceae’s current whorehouse where I found Adneta. Plus, this location would be so convenient to the heart of the city. It’s not to say the trek beyond the city walls isn’t worth what the ladies have to offer, but it does cause problems when a man wants some pleasure once the city gates close at dark.
Such possibility. All these women puttering about could really give something back to Portaceae rather than living off the Herenes. Well, maybe not all, I think as I observe a hob-legged crone dragging a rake over the gravel paths.
“Cousins,” I say greeting them cheerfully. “You’re ready for your first task, I see. Rested? Fed?”
“Yes,” Herc says, then catches himself. “No, I mean, our things haven’t arrived.”
“And when will they?” I ask Iole. I give her my most charming smile and concerned gaze, but her face remains impassive.
“Later today. The House has been busy tending to injuries from another building collapse. Truly, Eury, you need to put money into the treasury so we can get these repairs done.”
With only a few sentences from her pert little mouth, the Herene brings a storm cloud over my sunny mood. How can someone so delicious be so serious? Perhaps if my brothel idea ever pans out, I can auction her off. A romp with one of Portaceae’s wealthy men could truly do her and my pocketbook wonders.
I could never understand why Portaceae’s founders had left overseeing the treasury to the Herenes. Every evening the accounts have to be reported to the House, and every month I have to meet with the priestess to go over the state of the treasury and budget—dull topics indeed. Did the founders not see the hassle this caused? So much running around with reporting to them income, detailing my expenses—with some creative embellishments to make Adneta’s
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