Shame of Man by Piers Anthony
“It can't be! It can't be!” Crystal screamed. But she saw the blaze, and knew the neighbors and servants weren't lying. They all knew and liked Annai and her children. None of them were as close to the family as Crystal, so they were more objective about it, but they were clearly appalled.
When they were sure that Crystal wouldn't charge the fire again, they let her go. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing. “I should have been there! At least to save the children—”
She must have stayed there for a time, for she saw that the fire had burned down, leaving only the stone ruin and mounds of smoking ashes. She was alone with her grief.
The hill folk had entered the villa, killed the people there, stolen whatever they could carry wrapped in the good rugs, torched the house, and run away. A crime of opportunity. The victims could have been anyone. And suddenly Crystal's employer and best friend was brutally gone. Others would soon forget the matter, for these things happened. But how could Crystal ever forget?
She picked herself up and trudged wearily toward home, her mission of the day forgotten. All she could think of at the moment was a meeting she knew would come: with Huuo. What could she say to him, when he returned from his tour and learned of this?
The circuit of the festival was done. The troupe had returned to the city of Gaza and now was dispersing after a final banquet. Huuo knew he had put on weight from all the excellent eating. It had been a good celebration; he knew that all five cities were well satisfied. Now he was glad to be on his way home, his purse heavy with payment. Annai would be pleased.
When he boarded the ship at dawn, there was a surprise: it turned out to be the same one he had traveled on before. It was on its return trip from Egypt. Captain Ittai greeted him warmly. “Scuttlebutt has it that you charmed them all,” he said. “And won the heart of the loveliest dancer.”
“Perhaps I charmed them, with the help of all the other musicians,” Huuo agreed. “But I did not touch the dancer.”
“Come now, your secret's safe with me. With the license of the festival, and a creature all women envy choosing you, you surely must have been man rather than fool.”
“I surely was the fool,” Huuo said. “Perhaps I simply could not believe that her passion was true.” He lifted his left hand significantly.
Ittai nodded. “Put that way, I comprehend your doubt. But what point would there have been in her insincerity?”
“None I can think of,” Huuo admitted. “That does bother me. So let's just say that I love my wife beyond all else.”
“I think you are a man I would like to know better,” the captain said. “Perhaps we shall meet again, next year.” He moved on.
The wind was good, and the ship made scheduled progress under sail. At noon they reached the port of Ascalon and put in for spot trading. And another Philistine boarded. A woman.
Intrigued by this unusual appearance, Huuo stood to greet her. She lifted back her traveling hood and smiled. “Why, it's the musician Huuo! I never thought to see you here.”
“The dancer Scylla,” he said, similarly surprised. “I did not know you were traveling?”
“Well, not by preference,” she explained. “But it seems my family has inherited a house in Mor, which we can't use, so I must go there to arrange for its disposition. At least that will leave us in a good economic situation.”
“I did not see you at the festival.” He was being polite, though she was an associate rather than a friend. He had encountered her during various events, and she was an excellent dancer with a fine body. But she had a brother who was of dubious repute, and she herself—well, he was not one to credit rumors. He was nevertheless somewhat wary of her, perhaps because she was a beautiful woman who had on occasion hinted by her manner that she found him an interesting man. He had just been through that with Leda, and didn't care for more.
“I wasn't there. It seems that one of the serens objected to me. In any event, I couldn't have danced, because of my injury.” She lifted her right hand, which was heavily bandaged.
“What happened?” There wasn't much to do except talk with her, as they were the only two Philistine passengers on the ship, and the passenger section was small. So they sat half facing each other by his cubby. And he had to admit that she was good enough company; maybe he had misjudged her.
“An accident during a dance. I took a tumble, and put out my hand to break my fall, foolishly. There was something sharp there.” She shrugged. “It will heal, eventually. Meanwhile I am having to learn how to use my left hand. Have you any idea how awkward that is?”
“You forget that I am left-handed.”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh! My apology. I didn't mean—I never thought—I meant no offense.” She colored, looking flustered.
“No offense taken,” he said quickly. “I make no issue of it anyway. At the festival I used the double flute, which diminishes my apparent difference.”
“You are kind. I did know you were—I simply forgot, being absorbed with my own state. Yet perhaps our meeting is fortunate for me, because you could help me adapt, if you have the patience.” She smiled, looking very pretty as her flush faded.
“I shall be glad to help in any way I can,” he said. “It's no imposition. We have several hours of boredom before us anyway. What problem do you have?”
“Everything!” she exclaimed. “The most trifling, simple things become so infernally clumsy. Things I have always known how to do, suddenly I can't do without botching them. I've been spilling wine and—and I can't even tie my sash.” She indicated her trim midriff.
Indeed, her sash was loosely knotted, and sagged. This was not a disaster, as it served mainly to enhance the contrast to her clothing, which sagged nowhere, but it was surely an annoyance to her. “If you will permit me—” he said, extending his hands.
“No, don't do it for me,” she said quickly. “Show me how to do it myself.”
“Well, it isn't just the change of hands,” he explained. “It's that you normally use two, and now have only one. Naturally it's difficult.”
“Oh, yes, that's true. Still—”
“So let me tie it for you. There are other things that may be done single-handed.” He took hold of her sash, untied it, then retied it properly so that it was snug without being tight. In the process he was reminded that her body was in fine form. She was a dancer, of course, so her torso and limbs were slender and lithe. But there were differences in dancers, and hers was about as good a body as he had seen on any woman other than his wife.
“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling with a somewhat endearing human relief. His prior mistrust of her dissipated; she was a nice woman, now that he was interacting with her. She wasn't coming on to him the way Leda had, but was just being sociable.
Now he saw that her hair was sloppily braided. She had concealed it under the hood, but in the heat of the day she threw that back, and her fair hair fairly sparkled in the sunlight. But the braids were bad. So he redid those too, with her acquiescence; that was another thing that normally required two hands. Her tresses were almost silken in their length and lightness, and quite clean.
They spent the duration of the sailing reviewing and rehearsing the left-handed way of doing things. It was clear that Scylla would have to practice a good deal before becoming apt, by which time her right hand might heal, making it all for little. But she was trying hard, and making good progress. She was also extremely appreciative of his assistance.
When the ship came into the port of Mor they were surprised to see another female passenger waiting on the pier to board. No, it was a Canaanite—in fact he knew her. It was his servant Crystalech. Probably Annai had sent her to intercept him; perhaps there was something he was supposed to bring home.
But as the ship docked and he and Scylla walked the plank to the pier, he saw that Crystal's mien was serious, almost gloomy. “What is it, Crystal?” he inquired as he reached her. “Is something wrong?”
“Master, your house is burnt,”
He was taken aback. “My house—there was a fire? Then where is my family?”
The woman's mouth opened three times before she got the words out. “They are—gone. Raiders—a stampede—looters—they come through and your house was on their route to the gate—”
Huuo felt an ugly chill. “What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”
Crystal rolled her eyes heavenward. “Gone—to the gods. Master, I had to tell you, before you got there yourself. The brigand hill folk—”
“To the gods?” he asked, stunned. “Do you mean they are—” He could not say it.
The woman nodded grimly, tears flowing. “I saw the fire. No one came out from it. The hill folk—to hide their crime—they were gone before they could be stopped.”
“Annai—the children—?”
“Master, they are dead,” Crystal said, finally speaking the dread word.
Huuo would have doubted it from any other source, but he had known Crystal for years, and trusted her. Her daughter Desert Flower was almost like his own daughter Minah. Crystal would never knowingly deceive him. She was the city's most loyal servant, because she was also friend.
He found himself holding her, sharing her tears, not caring what others thought of a Philistine embracing a Canaanite in public. He had been so eager to get home to his family, and suddenly it had been destroyed.
Then he saw through his bleary vision the other woman standing near. Some numb semblance of propriety returned. “I apologize for this scene,” he said as they walked along the pier to the land.
“By no means,” Scylla said. “How could you have known? But perhaps I can help.”
“No, it is no concern of yours. Go and forget this unpleasantness.” But his ear heard his mouth, and was appalled at this seeming dismissal of the disaster of his life as “unpleasantness.” His formal self was honoring the rules of protocol, while his inner self was struggling to come to terms with what could not be accepted. An observer might have supposed that he did not really care about his family; instead he cared so much that he could not express it, and could let only part of the grief out.
“You have been kind to me,” Scylla said. “Allow me to repay the favor. You will need a house. Take mine—the one I am here to sell.”
“No, I could not,” Huuo said. “I must not impose. But I thank you for your concern.”
“But the house is empty,” she protested. “Use it until you can get another. Let me lighten this small portion of your burden, as you have lightened mine.” She lifted her bandaged hand.
He started to protest again, but Crystal intervened. “Master, you need a house. You have so much else to concern you. If this lady is your friend—”
“An acquaintance,” Scylla said. “I am a dancer. I know—knew Annai, professionally. But I want to help. It will take a month to arrange the sale of the house, and it makes no sense to waste it when there is such need. Perhaps you, Crystal, can serve him there as you have done before.”
“Yes, certainly,” Crystal agreed. “It is fortunate.”
Huuo could not oppose her. He needed his Canaanite servant more than ever, in this time of crisis. She could not assuage his grief, but she shared it, and that represented vital support. She also knew how to take care of him. His sensible mind, operating apart from his feeling mind, knew that she was vital to his survival right now. “Do as seems best,” he said.
“I will hire a wagon,” Scylla said. “I will bring it here.” She hurried off.
Time seemed both interminable and instant, depending on the focus of his consciousness. He was aware of the wagon, which held the three of them as well as its driver, as it bumped along the streets through the city. Then he stood before the ruin of his house.
It was nothing but ashes settled around the projecting stone walls. Long shadows shrouded the interior and reached across the land beyond. It was clear that nothing had survived the conflagration—no furniture, no possessions, no people. They had probably, as Crystal said, been murdered before the house was torched; only their bones would remain. Those bones were undisturbed, because only the next of kin could handle them with honor for their spirits. Huuo would have them rescued and properly interred in due course. But not today, not this week; it was more than he could face at the moment.
Then he was being conveyed by the wagon again, as the sun sank low in the west, until they stopped at an unfamiliar house. Crystal took him by the elbow and guided him inside. There was a bed there, and he lay down, leaving the two women to handle the world; he had to handle himself, if he could.
He must have slept, for he dreamed: Of Annai, smiling. Of Chipp, running happily. Of Minah, her great round eyes seeming eerily knowledgeable. She had always related well to the spirits; now she was a spirit herself. Perhaps she would be the one to communicate to him from the spirit realm. But in his dream she did not; she was merely a picture, as were the other two.
Evening faded into night. Scylla lit lamps and set them in the rooms of the house, and a candle beside the bed where Huuo lay. He got up to use the lavatory chamber, then sat on the bed, lacking ambition to do more. His dream extended part of the way into his waking state, and he thought perhaps Annai would appear, having taken residence in another house after the fire. She would come when she learned that he was back, and she would find him, and all would be well. At any moment he would hear the laughter of his children. Crystal would lead them here.
But Crystal knew they were dead. Had known before he knew. Had had to tell him at the pier, to try to cushion his fall some to some slight extent. So the dream dissipated, and for a moment he mourned it. Illusion was better than reality, right now.
Scylla entered the room. She bore a tray. “I prepared some food for you, Huuo,” she murmured. “You must eat.”
“I have no interest in food.”
“You must be whole for the funeral. You would not want to dishonor the spirits of your loved ones, perhaps sending them astray. You must be ready to do their final honors.”
She was right. Death was terrible, but death without honorable burial was worse. Those he loved were dead, but their spirits depended on him for guidance to the next realm. So, listlessly, he took the food she offered, and mechanically consumed it, unaware of anything else about it. Then he lay down again and wept himself to sleep.
Crystal tuned in on the local news. The Philistines were in control of the land, but the Canaanites had their own gossip network that covered things few Philistines knew of. Such as exactly which of the master's liaisons the mistress of a house knew about, and which she did not. Which temple priestesses were favored by which nobles, and the peculiarities of their interactions. Which noble, in the guise of a visit to the temple, fornicated instead with a heifer, believing this form of worship to be holier than the other. Which lesser lords were skimming grain from the tallies of which greater lords. And where every Philistine, of any level, traveled, and for what purpose, legitimate or illegitimate. The Canaanites knew, and did not tell. Because if they did, their masters would realize that their supposedly dumb witnesses were dumb only in the presence of Philistines; they shared everything with their own kind. That would be a disaster. Life was already hard enough without destroying their chief amusement: watching the follies of the masters.
Most of the stories were routine. But some were not, for Crystal. She was especially sensitive to two threads of the ongoing tapestry of news: the background on Scylla, and the actions of the hill folk who had made the deadly raid on Huuo's house. Because she did not trust Scylla, of whom some truly juicy tales were told, and she wanted very much to know exactly who had destroyed her kind master's life. Crystal's loyalty went beyond death; it extended to vengeance.
Scylla, it turned out, had been exiled a year ago from her native Gaza because she had schemed to corrupt a left-handed noble by seducing him away from his wife. The seren had learned of it and banished her from the city. Since then she had lived alone in a daughter city, on the
What else but the man himself! She had headed for the port city the moment the raid occurred. She had to have known that Huuo had lost his family, rendering him open for remarriage. He was a prominent musician, honored despite his handicap of hands. As his wife, she could surely live well, without suffering the indignities required by certain men. Huuo was known to be straight, in every sense other than his handedness; he would be easy to accommodate. So she was capitalizing on her opportunity, giving no other woman a chance to attract his attention first. Crystal couldn't really fault that, because the opportunities of women were limited, even Philistine women, and Scylla's reputation was none too savory. She had to be sharp to gain a good husband. And perhaps she would make him a good wife. She did seem to like Huuo; Crystal had watched her without seeming to, and caught the way her pupils dilated when she gazed directly on him. She probably admired his music; as a dancer she would know his skill. There was a certain sexual appeal to good music, and to those who made that music, and Scylla was by all accounts a lusty woman.