Santamaría The Eagle and the Lambda

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-84-16970-60-5
Verlag: Ediciones Pàmies
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 320 Seiten

First Punic War, 256 B. C. The struggle between Rome and Carthage has been raging on for over ten years in the bitterly disputed island of Sicily. The Roman Senate, eager to put an end to the conflict, has entrusted Marcus Atilius Regulus, Consul of the Roman Republic, and an outstanding general, the command of four legions and of the greatest fleet ever assembled. His task is to bring the war to Carthaginian soil. After a number of defeats in African territory, the Carthaginian Senate, aware of the danger the city faces, places its last hopes in the expert Spartan mercenary general Xanthippus. However, they do not entirely trust the Greek general. Arishat, the most experienced and best paid courtesan in Carthage, will be instructed to keep an eye on the Spartan while he prepares an army of half-hearted citizens to face the undefeated legions of the Roman Consul. Based on the writings of the Greek historian Polybius, Pedro Santamaría recreates with astonishing realism, accuracy and ever increasing intensity, the fascinating story of Rome's first invasion of Africa.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Santamaría, Pedro

Leseproben

I

As the slave girl parted the fabric covering the window, light filled the beautiful Carthaginian’s chamber. The sun had only just begun its descent, heading towards the horizon and into the ocean depths. Specks of dust, disturbed by the sudden movement of the fabric, flew erratically in every direction only to settle an instant later in midair and start a feather-like and gentle fall. With a grimace on her face, Arishat turned over in bed to avoid the light. She was neither asleep nor awake, but found herself in that placid moment when the mind shakes off the numbness of sleep and the body begins to awaken. She moved her feet in a circle beneath the covers, gave a low and sedate groan, opened one eye slightly, stretched her limbs with the grace and delicacy of a dancer, covered her eyes with her hands, and smiled.

“It is time, mistress.” the slave girl whispered.

“Thank you, Elissa.”

Arishat yawned softly, as she covered her mouth with one hand. She paused briefly, pensively looking at the villa’s ceiling while her eyes grew accustomed to the light. She then slowly sat up in bed, sliding her feet towards the floor. She felt cold on the soles of her feet, a pleasant and invigorating coolness. A soft tremor ran through her body. She wore a delicate tunic, light as air, white as a dissipating mist. Through it, a dark skinned and divinely shaped body could be appreciated.

“It is late, mistress. Remember, the shophet is expecting you tonight.”

“Yes, I know.”

Arishat rose to her feet, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with air. Her perfectly rounded breasts moved only slightly as she did so. The tunic caressed them as they rose like two twin volcanoes emerging from a fog. Her ribs marked her delicate skin. Her belly blurred beneath the cloth.

“Who was the fortunate one last night, mistress?”

“A young merchant from Massalia. It wasn’t bad, though it seemed as if I had been the one to pay him.” The courtesan laughed childishly.

The slave girl could not help but give a hint of a knowing smile while she made the bed. She enjoyed such stories. Arishat approached the window gracefully, as was her custom upon waking, and observed the sky over Carthage. Not a single cloud. In the distance, a woman hummed a monotonous and joyful melody. The racket of the city squares lay far from this well-off area of large and quiet houses, as if wealth attracted peace.

“Did you go to the market, Elissa?”

“Of course, mistress. At the break of dawn as you requested.”

“Did you get the perfume I asked for?”

“Yes, mistress, though it was quite expensive. It has been many days since ships from Alexandria arrived at port. The people are nervous.”

“The people are always nervous.”

“They say…” The slave-girl fell silent. Her mistress did not enjoy hearing the rumours going around, particularly if they were bad, and less so having just awoken. However, Arishat seemed interested.

“What do they say?”

“The price of wheat, which was already sky-high, has doubled within but a few days. People have begun to buy barley instead to make their bread. The price of lamb has increased fourfold, and there are no longer any wine supplies from Euboea. Fewer and fewer ships dock at the harbour with the passing of each day…”

“Oh, stop whining, Elissa! I grow weary of it. You sound like a weeper. It is not your money being spent, is it?” Arishat turned towards the slave girl. “You have not answered me, Elissa, what are the people saying?”

“The people are afraid, mistress. It is rumoured that the Romans plan to come ashore on our coasts. That, as a result, only a handful of foreign ships dock at our harbour, and that that is why everything has become so costly. People huddle in the squares and talk about it. Merchants use it as an excuse to demand more for their goods. Is it true, mistress? Is there really a Roman army headed towards the city?”

“Well!” Exclaimed the Carthaginian amusedly. “Rumours are indeed running rampant after all.”

“Is it true, mistress?” Insisted the slave-girl as she left her duties unfinished, concern creeping into her voice.

“It has been mentioned by a Senator, but it is meant to be a secret, Elissa. I would not however worry too much, the mob is easily agitated, more so when attempting to detail imminent calamities. You should know this by now. Someone must have talked to appear important, perhaps one of those merchants that wishes to justify raising the price of their goods. That is all they are, Elissa; rumours, nothing else.

“They say the Romans are bloodthirsty beasts.”

“I am hungry.” Arishat yawned and stretched delicately.

“They say they steal, murder, rape and burn everything to the ground.”

“As do all men, Elissa.” Arishat replied with a patronizing smile. “As do all men. But we need not concern ourselves with this.”

“How can you say such a thing, mistress?”

“You speak too much with the people at the market. It seems you are only happy when you are worried. We have been at war for the last ten years, Elissa, and our particular situation has only improved with the passing of time. Do you remember that hairy, Spanish mercenary?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, he had more gold than hair.”

“What do you mean, mistress?”

“That war benefits us. War makes men long for mundane pleasures, and makes them more willing to spend their money to indulge themselves. They make the most of their lives and gold in case the Gods decide to cut their life short. In any event, whoever rules is irrelevant to us. A man is a man, wherever he may come from, and men need to distract themselves from their slow journey towards death. They need to feel immortal from time to time, and that is what I do for them. I do not care if they are a shophet of Carthage or a consul of Rome.” Arishat made a slight pause to change the subject. “Go make my breakfast; you can finish these chores later.”

“But what if they do come ashore…”

Arishat sighed in annoyance.

“First of all, Elissa, in order to reach us, the Romans would have to face our fleet, and let me remind you that no one has ever been able to defeat Carthage at sea. Even if they did manage to surpass that hurdle, they would still have to defeat us on land, and were they to do so they would then have to climb our walls.” The Carthaginian scowled and raised her voice ever so slightly. She was not angry; she merely wished to appear so. “Stop worrying about the Romans, worry more about the beating I will give you if you do not do as I say. Make me something to eat.”

“Yes, mistress. My apologies, mistress.” The slave girl humbly retreated from the bedchamber.

The door closed with barely a sound. Arishat smiled and approached the great polished bronze mirror. She admired herself as she posed. She loved looking at herself in the mirror, affirming that her beauty remained intact despite the previous night’s excesses. It wasn’t only beauty however that her clients sought and found. A dog can be placated in but a few moments, and there were younger women who, for a bit of food, would offer their bodies to panting sailors in the port’s filthy streets; women whose charms would be swept away by the ocean breeze in a matter of months. She was different. In Carthage, having enjoyed Arishat’s delights was a symbol of status, wealth and influence. Carthage was home to even more beautiful courtesans, women with a greater talent for playing the lire, or who danced even more sensuously. The fact of the matter is that sometimes the price of a fragrance hinges more on the seller than on the fragrance itself.

It had been a pleasant evening. That Massilian, despite his youth, had turned out to be an experienced lover, unhurried, skilful and pleasurable. They had been alone and feasted on exquisite delicacies. He had spoken of love and recited poems from his native land and praised her beauty as would a man in love. It was remarkable how some clients, despite paying for her services, seemed to feel compelled to seduce her. She allowed this. She enjoyed the game, even though it was no more than that, just a game. In the end, everything boils down to business.

She slowly descended to the inner courtyard of her luxurious villa. A constant flow of water gave peace to the harmonious place. There, Elissa and her two other slave girls waited with all that was necessary for a delicious and well-deserved lunch. Arishat sat at the table. A child could be heard crying. The courtesan grimaced wearily.

“Apologies, mistress.” said Elissa.

“You should have taken the silphium when I told you to. This is no world to bring a child into. Your howling on the day you gave birth was quite enough.”

“Mistress…” the slave girl pleaded.

“Go on, go.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

A bit of freshly baked bread, some honey, a few dates and an egg, it was an excellent way in which to begin the day, though perhaps a bit late.

As she chewed, Arishat noticed a miniscule ivory flask shaped as an amphora and decorated with Egyptian motifs. It most likely contained the delicate perfume that Elissa had purchased that very morning. She extended her hand and brought it towards her. She uncapped the flask, brought the perfume to her nose, closed her eyes, and took pleasure in the smell of fresh roses....