‘A Trojan,” my father continued, and I would have dismissed Brutus from my care instantly save that he had so impudently demanded such nonsense from my father. From the tone of his communication, one could almost have believed that Brutus thought himself an equal of my father. It was laughable.
Ridiculous! I found it difficult to believe that a Trojan had found the temerity to write thus to my father.
He must suffer from a malaise of the mind. I shivered at the thought of how my father would deal with him.
‘A Trojan,” my father said again, his voice venomous, and spat on the gleaming floor of the megaron.
O The phlegm sat there, glistening in the sun as it streamed through the windows, a fitting response to this man Brutus’ slur.
‘He is an exile, even from his own people,” my father continued. “He tore his mother apart in childbirth and then, when he was a youth of fifteen, slew his father with a ‘misplaced’ arrow. He is a man who has murdered his parents, who is condemned, even by the Trojans”—he spoke the word as an insult—”and now, having come to disturb my peace, he thinks to demand I set my slaves free! Ah!”
One of my father’s advisers, a man by the name of Sarpedon who was known for the prudence of his advice, stepped forward and raised his head as if seeking permission to speak, but my father waved him back to his place. This was no time for prudence , surely!
‘Cornelia, beloved,” my father said, holding out the parchment to me. “You are my daughter and my heir. What would your answer be to this man?”
I tossed my head, enjoying the moment. My father, the mighty Pandrasus, asked me for advice when he had waved Sarpedon back. How everyone must admire me at this moment! I walked forward, my step springing, knowing how pleasingly such movement would make my loosely bound dark curls and my ivory breasts sway and catch the sun.
I took the parchment from my father. “He is ridiculous,” I said, and tore the parchment into two, then two again, and then even again, until the thing lay scattered about the floor in tiny pieces. “He cannot know of your greatness to send such a thing. Do not our laws state”—I was showing off my learning
before Melanthus at this point—”that such disrespect should be rewarded only with death?”
My father laughed, proud of me. “Well said, daughter. Shall I kill him for his impudence then?”
It was a game to me. I thought nothing of it. All I wanted was to make Melanthus smile. “Indeed, Father. You are too mighty to let such impudence pass unheeded.” And, oh, Hera, how I wished in the weeks and months to come that I had never spoken such thoughtlessness. Was I to blame for what ensued?
‘As my daughter wishes! There shall be a slaughter so great that when next you bathe it may be in Trojan blood!” My father laughed again, hearty and confident. “Antigonus!” he called to his younger brother (and sire of the most adorable Melanthus). “Set the trumpets a-blowing and the archers a-racingto their chariots! We shall go a-hunting this morning!”
A movement from the corner of my eye distracted me from the excitement, and I saw Melanthus approach his father, and lay a hand to his arm.
His waistcloth now lay smooth against his thighs.
Suddenly worried, I hastened over.
‘Father,” I heard Melanthus say in his honeyed voice, “allow me to ride with you, I pray! I am old enough now to play at war!”
Antigonus roughed the black curls of his son’s head, considering. “Your mother treasures you, the last of her sons to remain at her side. Should I so distress her to allow this?”
‘I am a man!” Melanthus growled in as deep a voice as he could manage. I would have laughed were not the situation so serious.
Antigonus leaned forward and kissed his son’s brow with soft lips. “Ah, my best beloved son, I forget that last summer you passed your sixteenth year. Very well then, this will be no more than a skirmish in any case. You may ride with me.”
Melanthus was too excited to do anything but glow at his father, but I was not so lost for words.
‘Uncle! How could you risk your best beloved son this way! Surely he needs a year or so yet before he must ride to war?”
‘He is a man, Cornelia,” my uncle said. “Have you not realized?”
I blushed, as I was meant to, and Melanthus laughed, and spoke to his father. “I will go to Mother, and tell her that finally you have allowed me to stray beyond her skirts. Cornelia, will you walk with me?
Knowing Mother, she will have need of a woman’s comfort at the news that her youngest son has now stepped into his manhood.”
Antigonus grinned at both of us, then walked away with a quick step to organize the raiding party needed to subdue this absurd Brutus.
‘Come with me,” Melanthus breathed into my ear. “We can have a moment in peace before Tavia seeks you out for your morning milk.”
My flush deepened, but with indignation now. “I am a woman grown—my nurse does not rule me!”
‘Come,” Melanthus said again, and he pulled me down the corridor toward his mother’s apartment.
We never reached it. The corridor was bustling with people hastening to and from the courtyard where the soldiers were gathering, and when Melanthus pulled me into a small storeroom no one noticed.
Melanthus closed the door, and, presumably hot both with his lust for me and his pride at going to war, thrust me against a wall and grabbed my breasts in his hands. I gasped at his daring, but then leaned in against him, pushing my breasts the more firmly into his hands and, for the first time, laid my mouth to his.
It was our first kiss, and—I must admit—it was a little more brutal and uncomfortable than I’d dreamed. His mouth crushed mine, our teeth clinked, and then his tongue was thrusting deep into my mouth. His hands about my breasts squeezed, painfully, and I felt his hips shove against mine.
I was startled at his ardor, but it was what I had wanted for so long, and so, in a spirit of great adventure, my eyes staring into his, I pushed my tongue against his.
Suddenly his hands had left my breasts and were tugging at my skirts, bruising their silk in his desperation to pull them above my waist.
I was about to lose my virginity. I was both scared and excited; this wasn’t the gentle, romantic procedure I’d always imagined, and I was beginning to think that Melanthus was a little too knowledgeable for my peace of mind, but at the same time my spine felt as if it were on fire, and I had an ache deep in my belly that I knew only Melanthus could relieve.
He grabbed at my thighs, then my buttocks, and half lifted me up so that I sat against his hips.
‘Wrap your legs around me,” he said, his voice breathless and hoarse, and hesitating only momentarily, I did as he asked. I was trembling now and, to be honest, a little more scared than excited.
His mouth was back on mine, his tongue thrusting deep, and I felt the first determined thrusts of his erection bruising the delicate skin between my thighs. He pushed against me, and I screwed my eyes shut, knowing that there would be a momentary pain when he finally managed to pierce me. I sent a quick prayer to Hera, begging that the pain was only brief and more than compensated for by the wondrous sweet feel of Melanthus deep inside me.
And then, suddenly, it was all over: for him, at least. Melanthus gave a ridiculous hiccupy gasp, and I felt a warm sticky wetness flood over my inner thigh.
He sighed, and closed his eyes as I opened mine in bewilderment and a horrible sense of failure. I might be an innocent when it came to what happened between a man and a woman, but I knew that this was not all that there should be.
I was still a virgin, to start with.
My cheeks flooded with warmth (had I done something wrong? Had Melanthus not found me desirable enough?) and I placed my hands on his shoulders to push him away (all I wanted to do at this point was to pull down my skirts and find somewhere private to clean myself) but before either he or I
could move the door to the storeroom flew open, and there stood my nurse Tavia in a narrow rectangle of bright light.
‘Princess!” she wailed, and Melanthus dropped me so quickly my bare buttocks hit the stone floor with a bruising force. He fumbled with his clothing, but Tavia paid him no more mind as she ran over to me, patting incoherently at my face and hands and sobbing something unintelligible.
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