Sappho Read Free

whispered her fears. But Kleis told her such creatures were no longer upon Earth. Once, yes, certainly there had been monsters, but now they were gone.
    â€œYour father’s brother,” her mother said, “Eurygyos, has also gone to the war. But his wife, Tyro, is kind. Barren women have to be, and it is to this home we travel.” To cheer her a bit, she added, “Mitylene is a city I have heard compared to Rhodes and Corinth. When I was a bride I visited there. The western side is spanned by bridges of white stone, and there are two harbors, one on each side of the peninsula. You have seen nothing like it. The market is set on a spit of land. So many things to buy, wares from distant places, perfumes, baskets, pottery, candles, and such confections, such delicacies. We will go there, Little Pebble.”
    â€œDon’t call me that,” the child said sharply and drew away.
    On the third day, they came to washing springs and stone troughs. But everything was deserted. The path had become a wagon road lined with weather-beaten fig trees whose humped roots ran under the wall of the city. From the bastions, sentries hailed the bedraggled band, and they were made to state their family name and business before approaching.
    Three massive bolts protected the gates of Mitylene. These were not opened in such unsettled times, and the party entered by a small postern door. Although she had visited her husband’s brother years before, Kleis had to ask the way.
    The old soldier who admitted them stared hard at her. “You are a relative and you do not know?”
    â€œPlease, we have traveled in flight from Eresos; the children are tired.”
    The elder nodded, his face falling into deep furrows. “Then you have heard no word of the battle?”
    â€œA battle? So soon?”
    â€œAthenian ships lay hidden by the crags of Chios. Our fleet was burned and scuttled. The house to which you ask the way is a house of mourning. They say Eurygyos, like Hector, went to his death with open eyes.”
    Kleis’s voice was tight in her throat. “Is it known who else…?”
    She is asking about Father, Sappho thought. But the old man didn’t know.
    Kleis pressed a coin into his hand and urged the servants to pick up their bundles. The wide streets had no one in them, except for some boys rolling hoops. They had been sent outside for this purpose and played without laughter or joy.
    â€œMother, I want to go back to Eresos, I want to go home.”
    Her mother didn’t answer. She looked like one of the Gray Women.
    The threshold of the house they sought was of stone. They stood there listening to the keening from inside. Red-eyed servants admitted them, calling their mistress. Tyro, wife of Eurygyos, embraced Kleis and the baby distractedly, then knelt and put her arms around Sappho. “This night, child, you will water the bones of your father.”
    Kleis’s breath sucked inward. “Dead?”
    â€œAll. With the death that lays men at their length.”
    Kleis smiled at such nonsense. “He was with me four days ago. He told me, ‘Take the children.’ He told me…” She looked around. “How can it be?” She was still smiling.
    â€œThe gods looked with favor on the hekatombs of the Athenians. The owl of Pallas Athene escaped and betrayed our battle plans. For it is certain someone betrayed the route. In a cove west of Eresos our men died. My Eurygyos urged the rowers to a fast turn. An ax cleaved the nape of his neck. Still, they say, he gasped out instructions to save the ship, holding his nearly severed head clamped in his hands.”
    Kleis sank to the floor whispering, “No more, no more.”
    Tyro ordered that salts be brought.
    Sappho wandered away. Slaves were attempting to start a fire. “How did Skamandronymos of Eresos die?” she asked.
    An obese eunuch looked at the small travel-worn figure with disapproval. “I