Seira didn’t know where they headed and didn’t care. Trusting Isaac came easily. In her mind she succinctly counted the times her life ended and began again. This was by far the most exciting beginning.
Alexander kissed her cheek. Turning her head, he kissed her mouth gently. Every thought disappeared for only a moment. Then Seira wondered how many women he’d kissed and if he could tell the difference between their mouths. It made her smile and look affectionately at him. He kept his eyes closed and smiled with her without unlocking his kiss or caring what amused her.
The day passed. Rain had long since stopped. The stormy sky quickened the appearance of nightfall.
“We are arrived,” Isaac said.
Seira sat up from a drowsed state, locked in Alexander’s arms, and looked about. Her back was sore, her shoulder numb. It was a small village somewhere southwest of Constantinople.
“Seems quiet enough,” Alexander spoke Seira’s thoughts aloud.
How does he do that?
He winced as he slid off of the cart and held his side.
“Tanri, Allah,” she moaned and stretched as she turned to see Alexander staring at her.
“You’re groaning in Hunnish,” he said.
“I fight in Hunnish, too. Care to see?” she grinned at him until he laughed.
A strong, yet gentle hand grasped her wrist and brought her palm to his mouth. Seira watched with adoration as Alexander inhaled her skin and then kissed the fleshy part of her palm. He wanted her, too.
Excitement surged through her to be loved by more than one man. She suddenly giggled, feeling childish and simultaneously grateful to be alive.
Isaac led them into a modest dwelling. It smelled of cinnamon and pine needles. Seira was overwhelmed with thoughts of Aymelek.
“Oh,” she sighed.
Alexander looked at her curiously and rubbed his face. He was tired and it showed.
“Come,” said Isaac. “You’ll sleep like an old man tonight,” turned then added, “but without the bladder interruptions,” and laughed at himself.
Isaac checked Alexander’s ribs and examined his nose.
“Hmm,” he said. “As I thought. No breaks, but deep bruises. Here, rub this on where it hurts,” Isaac said and gave him a bowl of calendula ointment.
Alexander sniffed it and nodded as he spread the ointment on his skin. He wandered into the small bedroom dropped onto the straw stuffed mattress and fell immediately and deeply to sleep.
Seira sat at a wooden table in the next room, hunched forward, and wrapped her arms around herself. Isaac sat opposite her and the two faced each other. They sat content not to speak. Seira felt her chest rise and fall with her breath. Seira held Isaac’s look, as if she could transfer her violent, sad, tedious and evocative memories to him without speaking. Her eyes searched his face and saw new wrinkles and grayed temples, but it was still Isaac’s face.
Isaac tilted his head to one side slowly. Seira sat up a bit more and felt the ache in her back disappear. Her expression gave way to compassion and resolve. Isaac nodded slightly. She dare not ask about Kiki. It was clear that Kiki was gone.
“Yes. I agree. Enough said. It’s time to rest. You are free now. Do you know this? This is a wondrous thing.”
Seira reached across the warped wooden table and took Isaac’s hand and gripped tightly. No words could convey her thoughts or feelings. Isaac squeezed her hand in response and nodded, understanding, as she knew he would.
“What is past is a collection of decisions, to whatever end. What is now is now. Follow the true path,” he said.
Seira didn’t question him. They stood; he walked over to her.
“The true path: your heart, yes,” he said, hugging her dearly.
“Tomorrow we begin the long journey to Thessaloniki and then to Athena. We have allies along the way to help us. And from there?”
Isaac paused to let Seira choose.
Seira did not require Isaac’s permission to live a life of choice, but some part of her yearned for it.
“Home,” she said. “I want to go home to Alexandria.”
Her body was tired.
Isaac nodded in agreement.
“You’ll be safe here. I’ll return at dawn,” he said.
“You’re not staying?”
Isaac glanced over at the bedroom where Alexander lay sleeping before he replied.
“No. Tonight I’ll make further arrangements and,” he paused, “I think you have your own arrangement?” he asked, his voice rose in tone and softened as he spoke.
Seira smiled with appreciation and watched Isaac leave without a sound. Seira turned and stared at the door to where Alexander lay. All these years and now she didn’t feel the need to rush to him. As if the fantasy of him were enough. She didn’t know what to tell him and what to keep secret. Freedom was an interesting position now that she had it.
She walked over to the door and pushed it open with her hand and suddenly felt so very nervous. Seira crept quietly to the bed and undressed. Her arms and legs slipped under the coverlet next to him. Her body let go and she relaxed with Alexander by her side.
He rolled over, reached out to her and pulled her in close. He hummed a tune into her ear and it tickled her neck. This was no longer a fantasy. This was real. He was here and she was willing. His strong and gentle fingers caressed her face, their bodies quiet and calm.
Life didn’t have to be so hard, such a fight.
“Your heart’s pounding,” he mumbled.
His voice was soothing and sensual. Alexander kissed her mouth. She put her fingers in his curly hair and pulled him closer. He stroked her back and felt her muscles and skin warm with desire.
It was then she realized the truth behind the uneasiness. It had nothing to do with Attila or Bleda or warring or power or control. Seira felt like a virgin. And she wanted Alexander to take her virginity. She meant for him to have it so many years ago. She pulled him onto her as she rolled on her back. Her long, agile legs slid and knotted around his muscular thighs.
“I feel like your virgin,” she whispered.
Bruised and smeared with marigold salve he leaned over her in silence.
“I didn’t know,” he paused not knowing how to speak his feelings.
She stroked his face.
“You didn’t know?” she questioned. “If I still cared for you?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to come back,” he said, resting his elbows on either side of her. “I’ve lived an entire lifetime without you, but have searched for you on the hope not just of bringing you back to Isaac, but that you’d still feel something,” he paused.
There was no other feeling to compare loving a man and simultaneously being part of him.
Seira’s heart opened and she let her lover inside. She embraced him and put her cheek on his. His scruff scratched her face lightly and she loved the feeling.
“I forgot that I could hope,” she whispered.
Her fingers slid over his hips and grabbed his upper thighs and pulled him in. They undulated in harmony with more desire then either of them had ever felt with another.
There was passion instead of rage.
Not like Attila.
Their bodies fit.
Not like Attila.
She felt love without longing.
Not like Attila.
There was nothing to conquer, only share.
“I love you Seira,” he said.
And it sounded like home to her.
Chapter Sixteen
A difficult labor
Or Moon conjunct Saturn in the 5th
S
EIRA HELD HER
belly as she dragged firewood into their unassuming house in the outlying areas of Alexandria. It was hard to breathe being so large in her 8th month of pregnancy. Three years with Alexander and they tried rapturously almost each day for a baby. Two miscarriages and two years later suddenly there she was, heavy with child and wondering why it’s the female of the species that must do this work.
Most women her age did not live this long let alone bear children. Many believed she would be cursed with a death sentence for seeing this pregnancy through at thirty-nine. Thoughts of Hun women giving birth flooded her mind.
They gave birth at all ages, she thought. I am no different.
She leaned on the wooden table that wobbled under her weight and dropped the kindling onto the floor. Seira held her breath as a contraction suddenly gripped her. Her mind went everywhere, unable to focus. As suddenly as it came, the spasm dissolved. She stood, breathless, and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
“I’m all right.”
Where’s Alexander? She thought as erratic images swept through her mind.
As she looked for her favorite chair stuffed with goose feathers she remembered that he sailed cargo to Crete. Seira rolled her body into the seat and tried to relax. She raised her feet to see her toes.
“Oh. There you are. I’ve not seen you in months,” she said and wiggled the cramps out of them.
It takes no more than two days to get there and back in good weather. She rubbed her belly as she calculated.
“Alexander! It’s almost three days now,” she said.
What if there had been a storm? And he…she pushed the thought from her mind. The anger of him not returning when he said he would was more than enough for her baby to feel.
Some women became dreamy and sleepy and soft during pregnancy. Seira needed a purpose, an action to keep her mind busy. She knew she needed rest so she finally submitted to the weight she carried and sighed.
Tilting her head to one side she rested it on a cushion Isaac had given her, sewn by a Thracian slave he rescued from bondage. It was dyed a brilliant indigo and madder. Softness padded her cheek. A drugged sleepiness fogged her head and settled her body. Seira slept for five minutes then her eyes popped open.
“It’s time to make bread, babelus.”
She pulled herself forward to the edge of the chair and held onto its arm for support.
Attila’s son must be four or so now…if he’s still alive. A cloudy mind tried to recall holding the baby, his baby. He had been tiny and warm. She stroked her belly and fell in love with her own child.
After all the lovemaking and caressing and raw sexuality she’s had with Alexander, she could still taste Attila. But the longing was gone and she was relieved of it.
Her kitchen reminded her of Iberia and Kiki. Isaac reassured her that Kiki passed into the ether peacefully, in her sleep, after a long life of service. That gave Seira a sense of comfort for Kiki’s sake.
Dried flowers hung from the ceiling. Alexander had built a wooden pulley lift that lowered so Seira could gather her herbs and prepare meals or tinctures. He was a craftsman as well as a seaman.
Seira smiled and thought of how easy it was to be with Alexander. If there were any struggles in their marriage, she brought it on for a change of pace. And afterward the sexual splendor that followed made it meaningful.
They didn’t argue because they were restrained and deprived from each other sexually. They argued to find a way to understand each other in their relationship. To simultaneously be one, and to be individuals seemed like her leather sandals; tight and restricting after being wet and muddy but stretched and comfortable after daily use.
Seira chopped chives for the soup. She put the knife down and looked around for her favorite cup and poured a splash of the hot broth. Sprinkling bits of chives atop the broth in her cup she paused before tasting it.
“Mmm,” she said and held the hot cup to her lips.
Inhaling the aroma and smiling she held the warm cup in her hands.
She clanked her fourth finger against the cup to hear her wedding ring. Gazing at it reminded her of the day she and Alexander married. He gave her a simple gold hammered band that fit her heart finger perfectly.
It was not customary for men to wear marriage bands but Alexander had an extra one made and gave it to Seira to slide onto his finger. She thought it a remarkably sensual thing to do. It gave her a sense of ownership. And other women would see it, too, and be forewarned.
Alexander is too handsome for his own good, she thought and laughed aloud.
She loved her house that she and Alexander had built. It had taken two years to be completed but this small estate provided privacy and a sense of a real home for both of them. It sat far enough away from the bustling Alexandria to help her feel at home, yet secluded and safe.
Their lives were relatively simple and quiet. Seira wrote medicinal and herbal compendia. She studied any new works by Neo Platonists and kept up on Christian doctrines that became laws almost instantly.
Once she thought she’d search for Lem and Marina but let that pang of sentimentality fade. She was used to a solitary life and decided to keep it that way.
She often thought of her father. He would never know his grandchild. Leo would soon be pope if all the reports from Rome were accurate. He preferred the Roman world and had left his familial past that day at the palace.
Alexander helped Isaac transport newly freed slaves to safe ports but under the cover of a merchant cargo captain. They stayed out of mischief and called no attention to themselves. At times, Seira would travel with him to treat the injured or to midwife.
On most trips, when Alexander left Seira alone, she reveled in the luxury of privacy. But now that she was with child, there were long, drawn out days and dark nights that were too quiet and often unsettled Seira. On those days she’d stay inside the house, a small blade tucked into her pocket and her ears alerted to every sound. Irrational fears disquieted her thoughts. She believed owls were plotting to fly into her house, waiting for her babe to be born, ready to snatch it while she slept. For some time she thought Bleda might still come for her, but those were fleeting thoughts during restless moments brought on by the heaviness of pregnancy.
She convinced herself that her life was full and quiet. It seemed the world had forgotten about them and she encouraged herself not be overcome by her maternal state.
“Go on,” she challenged an owl perched in the cypress tree outside her kitchen window.