I feel so bad It must have took me almost two months to get this posted. So, I apologize to all of you that PM me to ask why I havne't posted. I guess I just have been so busy...
But anyway, hope you all enjoy the nineth chapter.
Happy Reading
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CHAPTER NINE
The next morning, I wake to find myself in my own bed. I stretch luxuriously and run my fingers over my head. When I reach the bump, I cry out and quickly remove my hand. Dressing quickly, I leave to find Delicia. Now that I am well, there are many things I wish to ask her.
But she is no where to be found.
It seems that Evander, Delicia, and my father have all gone out to meet some businessman and his wife for brunch. At least, according to Lyra, that is what they are doing. I take to my room then, deciding to write my first letters back home. It has been almost two months and I now think it is appropriate to write.
The first is to my mother:
Dear Mother,
Things here are fine. Father is busy all the time. Evander and him are always gone on some business trip. The Chandrenos’ are nice enough. Delicia is kind and gentle-natured, kind of like you mama! Oh, how I miss you mama! I miss everything about Greece. The meadows and the lilacs. Especially the lilacs. And Timandra too. And Ruffy. Even Damaris. I am writing letters to everyone.
I wonder of how everybody in the village is fairing without me. How is Timandra? And Damaris and that girl from the neighboring village? Have they wed yet? And what about Aunt Charissa and Uncle Theo? Did Cleo have here baby and did Aunt Charissa and Uncle Theo adopt?
Well, I hope all is well in Greece. Don’t worry too much about me mama. I am enjoying my stay in Rome and hope to be home soon.
Love,
Isadora Chatzi
I sign my name with a flourish and set the letter aside. I feel bad about skipping out on so much but I don’t want mother to worry too much. She has too much to do at home to have to fret over me too. I pause and ponder over whom I will write to next.
I decide and start with a smile.
Damaris,
How are things in Greece? Rome is filled with all kinds of sights and sounds. You would love it here. I just know it. The streets are paved with a multitude of mismatched rock called cobblestone. The houses are packed side by side slashed with whitewashed brick and paint. The family, the Chandrenos, has a courtyard with flowers blooming everywhere. They even have lilacs. You know how much I like lilacs. That’s something I truly miss right now with all my heart. Oh, how I miss Greece. How are things back in the village? Did Odessa, your aunt, have her baby? How is your mother, Lydia? And your father, Ptolemy? Is everything going well with farming? And is my father missed from the docks?
Hope all is well. Answer back as soon as you can.
Love,
Isadora Chatzi
I sigh deeply and gaze at the letter, checking for mistakes before setting that aside. I smile with glee as I start with Timandra’s letter.
Dear Timandra,
I can’t believe I haven’t written sooner. Sorry, Manna. But I do bring news of everything exciting that has conspired in Rome. But you must swear to keep all this to yourself…and I know you will so I will continue writing.
First, Rome is so different from Greece. The people are loud and boisterous. The houses are flagrant and offensive. And the crowds are unbelievable. Oh, you should see their art! You would blush horribly if you saw all the nude sculptures I have seen of men. Especially the one that the Chandrenos’ family keeps in their courtyard. It is called Michaelangelo’s Night and Day I guess and they speak of it in such high esteem. Romans seem to pride in the exposure of their bodies. I mean, you bath in public with other naked people! I can just imagine you reading this Manna. You with your mouth a-gape. Oh, it makes me smile!
Another thing is the family, the Chandrenos. I am staying with. Evander, the father is sweet. He cares for everybody as if you are family. The mother is Delicia. She reminds me of mama with her gentle nature. And the son…oh, how do I describe him to you Manna. Shall I just go with the subtle approach? I think I shall!
He is light of skin but dark of hair with curls like that of sheep. It is the color of the sky at midnight and shimmers like the stars that lay dormant in its inky blanket. His eyes remind me of the fierce storms on a cloudy day at the docks with the wind roaring and the sea pouring onto the beach with waves as high as buildings. His build is that of a workman with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His talk is audacious and sometimes extremely rude but I think, Manna, that you would enjoy him. His name is Nicandro.
I, however, find him extremely annoying with his life of grander and riches. He is courting a girl of wealth with light skin and dark hair. I feel so odd, Manna, with my dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. All of me is dark.
Oh, but you have never seen a blonde, have you?
Oh, dear me, they are gorgeous creatures. The first that I have ever met is a gladiator. You know of gladiators Manna. They are the fearsome men who battle in the arena in Rome. Games, they call them. Never visit them Manna. They are nothing but blood and gore, nothing a lady should ever witness. Yet, the Romans thrive on this bloodshed and murder. I’ve seen their faces grow red with excitement and hear their blood flow freely like water through their veins.
Back to the gladiator. He was built as though Jupiter himself shot down an angel to live among us. His body is all angles. Nothing soft about this man. And his hair…oh, it is like wheat in the field. You will never see such a mane in Greece. If you must go to the games, search for this man named Marino and you will see for yourself the beauty of being blonde.
All right. I have told you far too much all ready. You must swear to keep mute on such subjects. Mama would scream if she knew papa was taking me to the arena. Keep this entire letter in secret. Read it in private and leave nothing to suspicion. Swear to me in your next letter that you kept this all between friends.
Oh Manna, I miss you so much. I can’t wait to go home.
Love,
Isadora Chatzi
I finish with a smile and breathe deeply. Having written all that down on paper, I have released all that pent-up emotions. Now that Timandra knows what I am going through, maybe she could hint to mama that it is time for me to go home. My heart soars at the thought and I quickly fold up the letters, placing them into letters, quickly scrawling the addresses onto the front. Grabbing hold of my shawl, I race from the room and outside, searching for Lyra.
I find her down in the garden, tending to many blooming plants. She smiles sweetly at me when I approach, her back to the famous Michaelangelo’s Night and Day. The nude sculpture makes me shiver with shame after staring so flagrantly. “Good afternoon, Isadora,” Lyra greets.
“To you too, Lyra,” I reply breathlessly. She gives me a peculiar glance and I quickly explain for my anxious behavior. “I have finally written letters to send home.” Lyra smiles. “And I was hoping you could send these for me.” I hand over the three letters and she nods.
“Of course I will.” She notices my glance at the letters and quickly reassures me. “I will send them as soon as I can. I promise.” I smile and she tucks the letters securely in her apron. Then, she returns to work and I am left to go back to my room.
~ ~ ~ ~
I shift and sway in my bed, the covers ensnaring me in their silky fingers. My mind is a tumble of thoughts, mostly over my letters. Was I right to say so many things to Timandra? Will she keep her promise? My fear is that she will tell and mama will fret most terribly over me. And papa will get into trouble with her for letting me go to the arena.
I sigh and yank the covers free from my limbs and swing my feet onto the cool, stone floor. My head aches and my mind flashes images of home. Nostalgia is fresh in me. It has been the first in weeks since I have missed home so strongly. I close my eyes and lay my head in my hands, trying to calm my fried nerves. Mama’s weathered face appears before my closed lids and my stomach curls. I haven’t ever been away from her for this long and I miss her heavenly singing voice and her smile that will light up any room.
I’m restless and stand, glancing at the moonlit garden. I sigh and quickly wrap a wool shawl over my tunic before leaving my room for more peaceful place.
I find myself in the garden again. I drift my hand over the bells and blooming umbrellas of the plants at my fingertips. Their perfume explodes into the air, creating a symphony of smells all working together to create the most heavenly of scents. My bare feet tingle from the chill of the gloomy garden.
My brain eases but still, my body craves what it can’t have. Sleep eludes me, keeping me in a constant cloud of fatigue. My mind is too smashed with memories and nostalgia to sleep. I am too restless to pace my own room anymore and so, I seek peace in the garden.
I do see that I am calm now. My mind is empty except for a soft buzzing of blankness. I think of nothing. Only of the flowers I see. I no not their names nor their purpose, but I take mental pictures so that that I can find comfort from them when I am not in the garden. My long tunic, once my fathers, trails to my knees and my wool shawl is my only attire. I know how shameful I must look, but I fear not of any waking at my presence.
I am but a ghost, a phantom haunting the shadowy glade, using the moonlight as my guide. Wheels upon the cobblestone road creak from far-off but I don’t startle. The sight of the flowers and their scents and my heart aching for Greece transfixes my mind.
But because of this, I don’t notice Delicia enter behind me on quiet feet. She clears her throat and I turn in fright until I recognize her figure. “Oh, Delicia, excuse my behavior,” I quickly bow my head, wondering if we are still as close as we were at the cottage.
“Stand straight Isa. You have done nothing disgraceful.” I raise my head at her command and I breathe easier. She calls me Isa, meaning we are still as close as before. She lifts an umbrella to her nose, breathing deeply. “I already have a guess about why you are here.”
I tilt my head and say. “You do?”
“Of course. You seek condolence, guidance, and a restfulness that your homeland won’t allow.” I am surprised by how accurate she is and she gives me a bemused smile. “Think I don’t pay attention?”
“No, not at – “
“It’s all right. Even my husband thinks me oblivious but believe me, I see more than anybody realizes.” I’m not sure how to reply to that so I remain mute. “You worry more about your homeland, I fear, however.”
“I-I don’t know what you mean.” I fumble, bewildered by her assumption.
“You don’t have to tell me what troubles your mind but I see it. Don’t ever doubt that I see it.” She glides by me like an angel dressed in white, her face peaceful and serene. If I had closed my eyes, I would have no idea she was there. She was that quiet.
She pauses at the lilac bush and lifts its blooms to her face, eyes fluttering in a dreamy state. “These are your favorite, if I remember right?” She looks at me from where she bends over the plant.
“Yes.” I say, remembering our comfortable stay in the country.
“You always smell of lilacs.” She smiles softly before moving towards the center of the garden. I follow her ghostly form and end where she ends. At the fountain of Michaelangelo’s Night. She rests in a flourish, patting the seat beside her. I oblige and she says. “So, what do you think of Rome?”
Her question is familiar and I smile. “Your son asked the same of me.”
“Did he?” Her gaze is slightly hardened at this and I quickly look away, feared by her sudden stern expression. Delicia is quick to change moods and I still am fearful of her assumptions and serious gaze. “And what was your answer to his?”
“That Rome is beautiful.” I lie, not daring to share my opinions. I suspect a barrier is forming between Delicia and I but there is nothing I can do to stop it.
My answer calms her. “Yes. Rome is the king of the world.” I nod, letting my eyes drift to the skies. “What is Greece like?”
I glance back at her when she asks this. “Timeless.”
She smiles tenderly at my longing voice. “I’m guessing your mother resides back in Greece?”
“You are correct in your assumptions. She is, in deed, back in my homeland.”
“You miss her, don’t you?”
‘Terribly.”
Her eyes glaze over, then. She has a far-off look and I peer closer at her. “I always wished Nicandro would talk so lovingly about me.” I am speechless. She doesn’t acknowledge my embarrassed expression and only continues to talk. “He was a gift from Apollo, that boy. Evander taught him everything he knew. Everybody told us what a good, young lad he was growing up to be with my nature and his father’s sense of success. But the one thing he has yet to understand is to respect his mother and father.” I watch as Delicia stands then, her arms wrapped protectively over her chest and there is tears swimming in her eyes. “I see how you honor your father Isadora.” She spins to face me, tears falling onto her cheeks. “Don’t follow in Nicandro’s wild ways. He knows naught of what the world has in store for such audacious children.” A shudder runs through Delicia and hardness comes to her eyes as she looks down at me. “Remember to obey your father, Isadora. Heed his warnings and no harm will ever come to you.”
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