Free Sappho's Leap by Erica Jong Page B

boat on the broad back of the sea with her slaves and serving women. Not only had Charaxus gone to trade in Egypt with Cercylas, but Larichus had joined him—young as he was. My youngest brother Eurygius was dead. A fever brought from the lingering skirmishes on the mainland had carried him off. My mother’s baby was gone, so she came to stake her claim on mine.
    We were so happy to see each other that we wept. Then she ran to baby Cleis—four months old by now—and drenched her face with tears. She gazed and gazed at the baby as if her eyes would shortly go blind and she had to memorize this moment.
    â€œHow strange,” she said. “I haven’t felt this way since I first saw you . I feel as though she were my own child. Blood of my blood and bone of my bone. It almost feels as though she’s mine .”
    Our reunion was ardent, loving, and passionate. But within days we began to quarrel.
    My mother had ridiculous old-fashioned ideas about babies; she dictated to the nurses, who grew huffy and snappish. She preached about adding solid food to the baby’s diet of milk. She wanted honey-barley water given to the baby before bed; she insisted the baby would sleep better. She rearranged the nursery and the women’s quarters; she criticized everything I did. Eventually I got so furious at her for meddling that I accused her of marrying me off to an old sot to better her own financial situation.
    â€œIt was only to save your life, Sappho, that I sacrificed myself to Pittacus and married you off to his friend Cercylas. You are such a child and so naive about politics, so unaware of how women are sacrificed—do you think I would let you move all the way to Syracuse if there were any other way? Would I relinquish my only daughter? How can you say that? How can you be so blind? Pittacus knew about your conspiracy with Alcaeus. He was not inclined to be lenient until I interceded. Do you think I enjoyed making love to that bag of guts? Do you think I lusted for that red face and that pendulous belly? Do you think his fat ass made me think of your beautiful muscular father? How dare you fault me for saving your life the only way I could?”
    â€œSo you let me be raped by Cercylas!”
    â€œI hardly think that sot had the power to rape you. Better a rapist with a little prick than a satyr with a battering ram. Besides, the world is based on rape! Europa was raped. Thetis was raped. Even Leto, the mother of Apollo, was raped. And she was one of the titans! Only Penthesilea, queen of the amazons, was killed, not raped. She would have been happy only to be raped. Grow up, Sappho—and look around you. This world was not made for women. Lesbos was once the home of the amazons. Look at Lesbos now—under Pittacus! You’re better off with an old, impotent, pliable lush of a husband than with no husband at all! A dumb rich husband who travels is what you want—and what you got! I refuse to feel sorry for you, Sappho.”
    â€œAt least you had a husband you loved !”
    â€œYes, I loved him. Yes, I was bewitched by passion. Yes, I was enthralled by his beautiful legs, his chest like the shield of Achilles, his glinting green eyes. And he had four children by me and forty more by slaves and concubines. And he never missed an occasion to make himself glorious in battle until he came home in a jar, leaving me to the mercies of his parents—and Pittacus.
    â€œYou should see the way that man is covering Mytilene with images of himself! He has the sculptors make him resemble Zeus—or Poseidon! Long beard, sage eyes, a philosopher’s knowing smile. He doesn’t just want to be a tyrant; he wants to be a sage! And a singer! He has that young fool Pherecydes of Syros writing songs, aphorisms, and philosophical treatises for him to put his name on! It’s not enough to be absolute ruler—he wants to be a singer and a philosopher! Don’t they