Donjeta and the Sea -- Chapter One -- Donjeta Meets the Prince

They lashed me for seventeen days before I would submit; before I would bow to them on their hard deck; before I would speak their barbaric tongue, say my name, sing their songs in a pleasing voice. They lashed me until I couldn't stand it, until I broke. A girl can only take so much, even a princess, even a daughter of the steppe, a horsewoman, a warrior, an Amazon.

Two sailors with rotting teeth dragged me from under the rear deck of the hollow ship. They pushed me up next to the captain, who stood tall, staring out over the calm sea.

"Take a look at your new home, girl."

He pointed ahead to a rocky island jutting up from the water. I saw tall gray hills speckled with tufts of green and wrapped around a small harbor. I saw a white beach and the hints of a town beyond.

I looked. I didn't speak. So this was Ithaca.

The crew sat at their oars facing me—hard men, strong men, ugly men. Their faces were scared and broken. They wore beards to the last. They leered at me, 'specially the one, Eukleides. They all leered, but he leered more than the others.

He called out between hard pulls on his oar, "Cap'n! Give us a go with her. We're an hour hard rowing from that harbor."

The other men laughed and nodded their heads.

"Stay to your oar Eukleides. She's for the prince, and he expects her unsullied."

"Ha! She's been sullied many times, I bet."

More laughter. He continued.

"And why should that beardless boy get one so beautiful? We risked the uncertain sea! We should get a taste!"

Another answered him. "Forget it Eukleides. The prince has offered a fortune for her. I'll not trade my share for a mere roll with a girl."

The captain looked away from them.

"Stay near me girl."

He didn't need to remind me again. I stayed near.

Panicked shouts came from the front of the ship.

"Hard astern! At your oars!"

The ship lurched as fifty oars bit the water at once, pushing back. The crew groaned, their muscles tense. They stood, getting leverage. Several oars sheared from the strain.

I grabbed the rail to keep from falling. The captain leapt from the deck, landing on the wooden plank that ran the length of the ship. He ran down between the rowers, his voice bellowing.

"Stand to it! Another stroke!"

The ship slowed near to a stop. The captain reached the bow.

"By the gods! Why have we stopped?"

"Sandbar, Cap'n!"

The captain peered over the front into the blue water. I remained at the stern, alone, but not for long. In the confusion, Eukleides climbed up.

"So missy, are you still chaste?"

He wore a knife on his belt, stuffed into a leather sheath, unbuckled. He was big, slow, and stupid. It would be easy—but would I live? I couldn't fight the whole crew.

He grabbed me and pushed me to my knees. He yanked up my coarse wool tunic. He thrust his hands between my legs, tearing aside the undergarments I had tied around myself. His fingers explored.

"Ha! You're no virgin! The prince won't even know we had you."

I was a virgin, but no girl kept her maidenhead long, who rides all day on a horse. A voice cried out.

"Hands off her!"

The captain stomped his feet across the deck, and I heard the smack. Eukleides staggered back.

"She's for the prince. Keep that bulge in your tunic at bay."

I glanced up. He indeed had a bulge. I smiled as it wilted under the sharp gaze of the captain. He looked at me with venom—and I had another mortal enemy. Would I meet him again, I wondered? Would he be my death? I stood. The captain shoved him off the deck.

"Back to your oar!"

The captain came close. Again, I stayed near.

"A fair wind to enter the harbor. The gods smile on us."

Indeed the wind had picked up. We had carefully rounded the sandbar, and the lookout announced deep water ahead.

They got busy pulling in and setting their oars, untying and tying lines, stepping the mast, setting the spar, and unfurling the sail. The wind caught, and we sped toward the harbor.

The captain called out.

"Wash her and change her garments. See that she's covered and the lash marks don't show, until we get our payment and are gone from this forsaken land."

Two sailors grabbed me, stripping my tunic and tossing it aside. A bucket of fresh water was dumped on me, and they roughly scrubbed me with sweet smelling oil. Then another bucket for my hair and more oil. A long linen tunic was brought from below and tossed to me.

"Put it on. Tie and clip it around your waist. You best look pleasing. If the prince rejects you—"

The captain paused and gave me a look. We both knew what happened if the prince rejected me.

I put on the tunic. I attached the clips and bunched the fabric around my waist. I knew the men would find the shape pleasing. I looked at the captain. He smiled back.

"Yes, you are indeed lovely, beautiful even—but for your strange eyes, but even they hold a dark allure. You'll stir the prince's heart, my dear. Yes you will."

He kept looking at me, until he noticed the crew doing likewise. He turned and shouted at them. They got back to work.

We pulled into the harbor, a white beach with a city beyond. Five large ships were dragged onto the sand, tied down tight. A dozen boats sat near. A crowd came to meet us, and the crew leapt into the surf, all together pulling the heavy ship onto the beach, tossing lines and lashing to poles set in the rock beyond the sand.

A plank was laid, and the captain ambled down joining the crowd of townspeople. Names were exchanged. Claims were made. I peered over the side of the ship. The townspeople looked up trying to catch a glimpse—of me. They sent for the prince. The captain returned.

"Be ready. Smile at him. It's now or never girl. This one moment decides your life."

The prince came, and after making him wait only a moment—the captain had a well developed sense of timing—I was led down the plank. The prince was tall with long curls surrounding a fair face and deep eyes. His expression seemed passive, even indolent, but when he saw me he looked. He quickly masked his expression, but I'd seen it—the look.

The captain had too.

"A fortune you promised for a beautiful maiden of the east. I have brought one such."

The prince let his eyes pass over me, a brief dismissive glance. He walked around me. He fingered my hair and tunic.

"She's not so beautiful. Any girl from rocky Ithaca is her match, even the women who tend to our goats."

Thus the negotiation began. Refreshments were brought, and benches were set for the prince and the captain to sit. I remained standing. It took an hour for the prince to admit my beauty, another to agree to a high price, then two more to make the particulars. Midway, I sat in the sand.

At a certain point they agreed. I saw it on their faces. Like a sudden recognition, they knew the measure of the other. Hands were clasped, the deal struck, and more wine was brought.

And the price: four dozen amphorae of dark wine from Achaea; twenty large spools of a fine purple linen, woven there on Ithaca; five cases, each as heavy as two men can lift, of bronze ingots forged in Argos; a smaller chest, filled with objects of gold and silver, plates, goblets, forks, and a small ornamental knife, each carefully inspected by the captain—he gave a long, deep smile as he handled each one; and the final item, an even smaller chest no bigger than two fists, filled with myrrh.

It was a princely sum—from a prince. I smiled at the pun. The prince saw my smile and returned it. He took my hand.

"Welcome to Ithaca, my dear. What's your name?"

"Donjeta."

"Well Donjeta, you should call me Telemachus, and you're indeed beautiful. I shall send this captain forth with my pleasure, and my blessing. May the gods smile on his journey. We will perform a sacrifice here to ensure their favor. I will give a bull and two heifers, the pride of my herd, rich and succulent, and we will roast them on this beach. Today is declared a holiday."

And so it was. The prince's assistants swept into motion, preparing the feast.

"Now, my lovely Donjeta, let us return to my house while my servants prepare the meal. I have such sweet things to show you."

So I followed the prince, and that day I became a slave.

We walked through the town, with its sandy streets and its worked stone houses. His was the largest, set well up the side of the hill. He walked quickly up the slope with long strides. I kept up.

He smiled at me.

"You walk well. You're no housebound girl. I like that."

I said nothing.

"You won't say 'thank you sir?' You'll need to learn some manners. I'm no slave driver, and I intend to treat you well, but I can't have you acting sullen around me. So, let's see a smile and a 'thank you.'"

I still said nothing. He stopped and turned to me.

"What's wrong, Donjeta? This won't be such a bad life."

He reached and took my arm, just above the elbow.

"Alright. You're new and very beautiful. I'll make allowances for a beautiful girl, but be aware there are limits to my patience. OK?"

He peered into my eyes. I nodded. We entered his house.

He took me to a bathing chamber, its wall a tile mosaic showing a goddess rising from the sea, her hair a deep, lustrous gold, her eyes brilliant lapis. The sea foam churned around her, a silvery white. Beneath her sat the bath filled to near the brim. Steam rose gently from it.

A woman entered, older. She'd seen at least fifty years.

"Eurycleia, this is Donjeta."

Eurycleia looked at me, taking me in. The prince went on.

"Bathe her. Remove that grotesque oil the captain has drenched her in. See that she is clean. I shall watch."

The prince went and sat on a small stone bench. Eurycleia came and reached for my tunic. I stepped back.

"Now, now, sweetie. Just stand still and let me help you."

I stood waiting. She removed my tunic, and then I was naked, facing the prince.

"Now let me help you into the bath, dear."

She took my arm, and I carefully stepped into the bath.

"Oh dear, these welts. They've beaten her, sir."

"What?"

"They've beaten her. The welts are terrible. My dear, how did you bear it?"

I hadn't—borne it. I slipped into the warm water. I closed my eyes. The prince shouted.

"Send for Damianos! Have that captain brought to me. He will answer for this."

I heard the shuffle of feet. I heard shouting down the halls, then a gentle whisper in my ear.

"Relax, my love. I will soothe your body."

I felt hands reach down cupping my breasts, then a kiss on my neck. She reached further—there—gentle caresses. I sighed, my eyes still closed. I leaned back seeking with my mouth. I found a nipple and sucked. I thought of my home, the open steppe, the cry of the horses. I thought of my sisters, their smiles, their eyes.

After my bath, Eurycleia dried me and brought a long, luxurious dress. She helped me put it on, cinching it around my waist with a ribbon. She gave me kisses.

"Come, my dear, it is time to go to his chamber. Just relax. Telemachus is a good boy. He'll be gentle."

She led me down a hall to a breezy chamber with broad open windows looking out over the sea. The bed was large.

"Alright sweetie, go on. Get in bed. The prince will be along soon."

I got in the bed. A table stood beside it. On that table was a knife, small, but sturdy and sharp. I could kill a man with that knife.

Eurycleia left. I waited. The prince entered, cursing.

"By the gods I don't believe that man escaped!"

"Who?"

"That monster of a captain!"

He went to the window, staring out at the sea. I got up and joined him, looking out the window over a steep drop. I saw it, the ship rowing hard, far past the breakers. I looked up at him.

"I shall perform the feast and sacrifice anyhow. Poseidon has always been good to me. I shall give to him a grand sacrifice and pray for the death of that captain. He shall regret ever coming to Ithaca."

He turned to me. He reached out and stroked my face.

"Now, my dear girl, what shall we do with you?"

He took my arm above the elbow. He smiled and led me toward the bed. I stopped, pulling back.

"Please, not yet."

"What?"

"Not yet. I'm not ready yet."

"My dear, it's time."

He pulled me insistently. I yanked away.

"Donjeta! Remember what I said—about my patience running out. You're about to cross that line."

I backed away. I crouched a bit, looking up at him. He advanced, his eyes filled with fury.

I leapt. Even wearing that bulky dress, I leapt clear over the bed. It was an impossible leap, for an ordinary girl. He gasped as I landed by the table and grabbed the knife. I cut loose the ribbon that bound my waist. I slashed at the fabric of the dress, freeing my legs. He dashed around the foot of the bed to between me and the door.

"What have we here? Donjeta, who are you? Are you a god?"

I looked at him, sneering and crouching. I held the knife, not before me, but to my side so he couldn't seize my wrist. To approach me would be his death.

"No, not a god. Are you Hippolyta's spawn? Or Penthesilia? Oh, what did that foolish captain bring me? Did he know? Come on, answer me girl!"

"Antiope was my mother."

Antiope was an Amazon queen. Hippolyta and Penthesilia were her sisters.

A smile crossed his face.

"How amazing. How wonderful. Put down that knife, Donjeta. You won't need it, for no harm shall come to you, not from me, not in my bed."

He paused for a bit, peering at me. I didn't believe him.

"Oh—this is not unwelcome, your lineage, and I shall not make the mistake Achilles made when he cut down your aunt. I shall not wait until you're dead to love you. No…I shall love you now!"

He took a deep breath. His eyes were wide.

"You'll be no slave, not with royal blood. There'll be no woman's work for you, no crawling on your knees. I shall give you gold and ivory. I shall raise you above all other women. My kingdom will be yours, and I'll take my neighbor's kingdoms, in bloody war, to give to you also. You shall be my queen!"

He advanced. I leapt, backward a bit, but high, my foot catching on the edge of the table, then forward in a dive clear over his head. I flipped in the air, turning, landing behind him facing him. I held the knife.

He spun in place, his face filled with furious joy. He advanced again, reaching out as if drunk. I slashed. The knife glanced off a rib, the bottom most. That saved his life.

He lurched back bellowing. He grabbed his side, red blood streaming through his fingers. Then I was grabbed from behind, my arms pinned. I was lifted from my feet by a strong grasp and spun around.

"Get the knife from her!"

Another man arrived, more behind him, running down the halls shouting. My wrist was grabbed, the knife wrenched away.

"Tie her up and put her in my bed."

A rope appeared. I was tied up and put in his bed.

"Bind my wounds."

His tunic was stripped off. The cut was shallow, causing more fear than danger. Eurycleia entered. She gasped. She was given a bandage, and she wrapped the prince.

I was held down on the bed by two men. I struggled and squirmed.

When his wound was bound he spoke.

"Alright, check her bonds. See that she can't escape. Then leave us."

They tightened my bonds. Then they got up and left. Eurycleia was last, giving me a panicked glance. She closed the door.

The prince walked to the foot of the bed, looking at me. I scuttled back on my butt and elbows to the headboard, but no further.

"Donjeta, you'd better be worth it."

He climbed into bed.