Syria 260 AD

'It had been very exciting,' thought the young Lady Samoya, rolling over, pressing her taut, bare belly against the rush matting on the marble temple floor, hearing the priestess's voice but not her words. Lady Samoya was not concentrating. Her mind had drifted back to her visit to the palace where she had seen explicitly erotic murals of the gods copulating with the mortals.

Though familiar with her own body and those of her female slaves, she had never seen a man naked. The size, length and shape of the gods' sexual equipment had amazed her. Why hadn't she noticed the equivalent bulge on the men she knew? Or was it only male gods who had such huge members hanging between their legs? And was this why there was a look of such ecstasy on the mortals' faces?

Samoya remembered how she had eyed up Anthony, the handsome, young, Roman cleric, and had wondered if, under his severe black robe, he possessed an instrument to rival that of the gods. She had felt an immediate desire to find out. The combination of that thought, his presence and the explicit murals had caused a sudden tingling deep inside her.

Anthony had been asked by his employer, Paul of Samosata, the Bishop of Antioch, to take his client's daughter on a tour of his palace and he had unwillingly agreed. His unwillingness had increased at the sight of Samoya. She was enticingly beautiful and her erotic beauty had disturbed him. She had a straight nose and a mouth that was ruby red, very full, and pouted. She also had a long mane of bound and braided red-gold hair. The criss-crossings of her hair ribbons were echoed in her leather thonged sandals as they wound up her long legs. Anthony vaguely wondered if it was that tightness, that sense of confinement that excited him. He would love to see the whole of her naked body bound with strips of leather. Anthony gave a shudder of desire as her pale oval-shaped face, with its violet-blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, haughtily inspected him. He found the forthrightness of her stare completely bewitching. And softly sexual. He had an incredible desire to touch her, to feel her breasts, her neat bottom, her sex. But she was out of bounds. He knew that. Anthony moved further away from her, so that he wasn't tempted, and nodded and smiled at her big blonde female slave.

Samoya had wondered how she could manage to touch Anthony's penis; he was purposefully standing to one side and avoiding her eyes. Normally, when she wanted to do something that her widowed father would not have approved of, she colluded with her favourite slave, the tall blonde, Nordic Irene. But there was no time for that now; besides, Samoya could see that Irene also found him interesting. She was giving him come-hither glances. That had annoyed Samoya, even more so when she noticed Anthony give Irene a slight nod and a sly smile. There had been talk of Irene's mother being a Christian. She wondered if Irene had given him a secret signal. Well, whether it was true or not Samoya didn't know, and didn't care. She had to work out what to do and do it quickly, before the tour was over.

Samoya looked at Anthony out of the corner of her eyes. He was handsome but not particularly tall, just a good height. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, a long thin nose with slightly flared nostrils and a wide sensuous mouth. But what struck her most was the beauty of his long tapering hands. Then she had wondered if certain other parts of him were long and tapering too, and if he was wearing anything under his robe. She gambled that he wasn't. Even Christians wouldn't take their bizarre ideas to such lengths as to punish themselves by wearing underclothes when it was so incredibly hot.

Supposedly looking at the wall paintings, Samoya contemplated the problem. How could she unobtrusively put her hand beneath Anthony's cassock and feel his manhood? She decided that if she was to move back suddenly and deliberately stumble, she could put out a hand to stop herself from falling and allow that hand to race up Anthony's thighs and touch his penis. Having worked out what to do Samoya then had to manoeuvre herself into a position to do it.

'And this is Leda and the Swan,' Anthony's voice broke into her reverie.

'Oh yes, Leda,' said Samoya, knowingly, 'wife of Tyndareus and mother of Clytemnestra. The swan is really Zeus ravishing her.'

Samoya didn't find that painting as interesting as the previous ones. It was not as graphic. She gave a hint of a smile and walked in front of Anthony so that he was made even more aware of the slimness of her waist and the swell and sway of her hips.

Samoya had asked to go with her father to the Christian bishop's palace and it was not at all what she had been expecting. It was luxurious in the extreme and the bishop kept an army of chefs who served food constantly and he made sure there was a liberal flow of the best wines from the Lebanon and Italy. Also the whole place was furnished with the best furniture and the finest silken wall hangings. And, although the bishop and his secretary were dressed in plain black robes, his beautiful and voluptuous female slaves were clothed in flimsy transparent silk showing off their alluring young bodies to great advantage. Samoya thought they looked more like women of sensual indulgence than poor downtrodden slaves of harsh, penitent Christians. Which belied the general rumour that Christians denied themselves the pleasures of the flesh. Which they called bad, wicked, a sin. That didn't seem to be the case with the bishop. Perhaps, Samoya thought, that was why he was having trouble with his community; some of them wanted his palace shut down and him thrown out, to be replaced by a severe mystic from Alexandria.

Samoya had moved closer to Anthony, away from her chaperoning slaves and, in a sensual whisper, had asked him about his life at the palace. Anthony had balked at answering. He had gazed at her lovely, pure young face unable to tell her of the Bacchanalian orgies that took place most evenings. Instead he had suggested that they return to the garden where the bishop and her father were wine-tasting. And that had been the moment Samoya had chosen to move back on him and fall swooning to the floor. Anthony, rushing to her aid, had knelt down beside her. As he did so Samoya had quickly slid her hands up his legs. Before her slaves had surrounded her, picked her up and carried her away, Samoya had managed to touch his hidden and bare length.

At the moment of impact, when her fingertips met his skin, Anthony had given a gasp of pleasure and surprise. As her fingers deftly surrounded his member a myriad of highly charged and sexual visions assaulted him, swirled around, and burst from him in a loud gasp. Now, more than ever he wanted to grab her, lay her on the floor, penetrate her, take her into ecstasy. With speed her hand had stroked the length of his thick and stiffening member. He had groaned with frustration and excitement.

Samoya had felt the softness of Anthony's testicles and the instant hardening of his penis and found it exhilarating. She had immediately appreciated that it had been her groping fingers that had made his manhood grow. Now she knew how men packaged their sex. It was kept tiny and concertinaed until aroused. Then it sprang into action. Samoya found that discovery thrilling. It gave her a sense of power and it was a revelation she would never forget.

Excited by the memory of her hands fondling Anthony's phallus, Samoya realised she was now wet between her legs. Unwittingly, she let out a long sensuous sigh.

'Samoya!' said the priestess, sharply, angrily. 'You are not concentrating. Get up and do the whole of that dance again. And you'll continue to do it until you get it right. Ever since your father took you to that wretched Christian's palace your mind's been anywhere except where it should be.'

The priestess was furious with her brother, Pernel, for taking his daughter to meet the Christian. It was not so much the licentious man himself she objected to. She could cope with him. It was his religion. And as far as the Priestess Verenia was concerned the newly founded sect was pernicious, destructive and, for women, both highly dangerous and highly derogatory. Verenia did not want her niece to be influenced by it in any way.

'I forbid you to go there again,' Verenia had said to Pernel and Samoya after they had let slip where they'd been. 'We do not associate with Christians.'

'Why?' Samoya had asked.

'Because they have some very strange ideas. You are young and could become contaminated by them. They do not allow priestesses in their religion. And their priests' main objective seems to be to deny women, their functions and their contributions to life and this will lead to a terrible lack of balance in the world.'

Samoya had protested that she had seen no evidence of this at the palace. Samoya's defence of the Christians had immediately alarmed Verenia. Her worst fears were being realised. They were trying to convert her. She had quizzed Samoya in depth about her visit and, not being entirely satisfied with her 'untruthful' answers, had brought forward the date for her initiation. This in turn had worried Samoya. She knew that as soon as her initiation ceremony was over her father would begin to organise her marriage. But marriage was not part of her plan. She wanted to go to Athens and study to become a doctor. She had learnt about herbs and their various properties, which ones were good and which ones were poisonous. She needed the priestess on her side. Her whole future was at stake, she had to get her own way with her father and stop any marriage plans he might have. The one person who could help was Verenia. Her word was law.

'Samoya,' said the priestess wearily. 'Stop day dreaming and do those steps properly.'

'I'm sorry, Aunt Verenia,' said Samoya, meekly and contritely. After the eighth time Samoya executed her dance perfectly.

'Now you may go,' said the priestess smiling at Samoya.

'Aunt,' replied Samoya, feeling the warmth of Verenia's smile and deciding it was the moment to chance her luck. 'Please, Aunt, would you ask my father if I can go to Athens and become a doctor?'

'I will,' said Verenia, and Samoya's heart gave an upward lurch of happiness only to sink quickly as the priestess continued, 'but not for a couple of days. There's too much to do here. Now, dress and go quickly to the gymnasium or you'll be late for your weapon training.' Verenia bent down and gave Samoya a quick kiss. Samoya knew it was true and not an excuse and she thanked the gods Verenia wasn't still annoyed with her.

After putting on her multi-coloured, geometrically designed, pure silk skirt together with its matching bodice, Samoya collected up her slaves who were patiently waiting behind a huge curtain at the back of the temple. They were not allowed to see the sacred dance Samoya had been practising.

The three girls were more or less her own age. They had lived with Samoya since birth. They were the daughters of other slaves and born in Pernel's household. Except Irene. Pernel had bought her, a five-yearold orphan from one of the Germanic tribes from a garrison town on the Black Sea. Pernel had been much taken with the paleness of her and her sweet temperament. He kept her as a rarity but insisted her mass of thick blonde hair was always tied up and covered. He didn't want her stolen.

Irene was Samoya's daily confidante and at night they slept together. She had always slept in Samoya's room but recently Samoya had invited her into her bed. No one knew they gently stroked each other to sleep.

Samoya linked arms with Irene as they made their way quickly through the suburban streets to the gymnasium. She was looking forward to her lessons and to a good gossip with her friend Zenobia.

When Samoya arrived at the large building on the outskirts of the city she found the doors were locked, the lessons were over and everyone had gone except one slave.

'The Lady Zenobia told me to tell you that she's gone to practise outside the city.'

'She could have waited,' said Samoya, huffily.

'And she's taken your equipment with her,' said the girl.

'All of it?' asked Samoya. 'The bows and arrows and the javelins?' There were times when Samoya wished Zenobia wasn't quite so independent and headstrong.

'Yes,' replied the slave. 'And I know exactly where she'll be so I'm to guide you.'

Samoya found the slim figure of Zenobia who was practising javelin throwing on an incline overlooking the city. She sat down when Samoya appeared.

'It's too hot to do any more today,' said Zenobia.

'Anyhow, what kept you so long? I've been here for ages.'

'The priestess. She kept making me do that dance again and again. She said I wasn't concentrating...'

'Were you?'

'Not really.'

'Were you thinking about that man, Anthony?'

'Yes.'

'Don't. A Christian bishop's secretary is no match for you.'

'Who said anything about a match and marriage! Anyway don't you ever think of men?' replied Samoya, peevishly.

'No, not men, only princes,' replied Zenobia.

Suddenly the distant sound of marching feet hit their ears. The two beautiful young women shielded their eyes from the sun as they looked away from the city of Antioch, down the other side of the hill. Soldiers in neat formation were heading straight for them.

'Persians,' screamed the horrified slaves, wanting to run.

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Zenobia sternly. 'They're Romans. Look at the uniforms and the standard.'

'What shall we do?' asked Samoya.

'Do? That's a silly question. The Romans are our allies,' replied Zenobia.

'I meant,' countered Samoya, 'do we sit down here and wait for them to pass or do we run ahead of them?'

'Why should we run anywhere? We're going to walk sedately into Antioch. And, if the Romans catch up with us, so be it. Mmm, I wonder if our war with the Persians is over.'

They were half a mile from the city gates when Zenobia jumped across a log blocking their path and fell, badly twisting her ankle. She gave a sharp yell and sat down by the roadside.

'Look how it's swelling,' cried Zenobia, staring at her feet.

Samoya immediately knelt beside her friend and felt the offending ankle.

'It's all right. Nothing's broken, it's only a sprain.'

Then Samoya tore a strip of clothing from the hem of the nearest slave's dress and wound it loosely around Zenobia's foot, not as a bandage but as a sling, and gave Zenobia the two ends to hold on to.

'Hop and hold on to me. I want you down by the water's edge,' said Samoya.

'Why?' asked Zenobia.

'Because I'm going to dip your foot in the cool water. If you put it in and take it out then put it in again it will take the swelling down.'

Samoya and the slaves helped manoeuvre Zenobia past the reeds so that she could put her foot into the water.

'Oh!' Zenobia exclaimed. 'That's cold.'

'It's meant to be. It wouldn't do you any good if it wasn't.'

'That's very clever of you,' said Zenobia.

'I told you I want to be a doctor,' replied Samoya.

'Do you think you'll be able to?'

'No reason why not,' said Samoya, her eyes shining at the thought. 'I've asked Priestess Verenia to have a word with my father.'

'So?'

'He has a great respect for her and for the Goddess,' Samoya stopped short seeing the expression of doubt on Zenobia's face. 'You've forgotten she's my father's sister. And if she's on my side...'

'The training's expensive.'

'So what, my father's rich. He can afford it.'

'Yes, but with your brothers away fighting the Persians doesn't he rely on you to help with the business?'

'Yes.'

'And if they should be killed and anything happens to him well... Aren't you his heir?'

'Yes. Look, why are you making difficulties where they don't exist?'

'I don't know, I just can't see it happening,' said Zenobia, suddenly very serious.

'What do you mean you can't see it happening? Now you're being ridiculous. Look, if the priestess says I'll make a good doctor, my father will agree.'

'When I'm queen I'll build schools of medicine here in Syria,' said Zenobia, dreamily.

'When you're queen!' exclaimed Samoya.

'Yes,' replied Zenobia. 'A fortune-teller told me I'd be a queen and loved by two emperors.'

'Oh!' said Samoya, a note of disbelief in her voice. She stared at her friend. She was very attractive but she was skinny and that was not fashionable. Samoya's father told her every man preferred big voluptuous women. They wanted someone rounded with rolls of flesh they could get hold of, cuddle up to and find comfort in. Samoya smiled to herself remembering how her father was always trying to fatten her up with delectable pastries and delicious sweets. Perhaps Zenobia was going to become fat but there was no sign of that yet. Also, although she was very beautiful and had a good mind, which some men did like, Zenobia was very argumentative. Which, her father said, most men didn't like. So how was she going to manage to make not one but two emperors fall in love with her? Of course Zenobia's father was rich. Richer than her father. Perhaps he was going to buy her an emperor.

Zenobia, trailing her foot in the water, caught the tone of disbelief in her friend's voice.

'That's what I asked,' said Zenobia.

'What?' exclaimed Samoya. 'If my father was going to buy me an emperor.'

'How did you know what I was thinking?' asked Samoya.

'It was obvious.'

'And what else did this fortune-teller say?'

'She said, "When I say love, I mean love". So that put me in my place,' said Zenobia laughing, then adding,

'but she also told me that I would reign until the sun went from west to east.'

'But it can't.'

'Exactly. So I'm going to reign forever.'

'Did you pay this fortune-teller good money?' asked Samoya sceptically.

'No.'

'But you believed her!'

'Why shouldn't I?'

'Perhaps she tells every girl she'll be a queen.'

'No. I don't think so.'

'Mmm, and when did this fortune-teller tell you this?' asked Samoya.

'Here, whilst I was waiting for you. She appeared out of nowhere, grasped my hand and told me. She said she had wanted to do it the other day when I was shopping in the market-place.'

'Are you still allowed to go to the market-place?' Samoya interrupted with astonishment.

'Yes, of course.'

'My father won't let me go there.'

'Why not?'

'He says it's a place of insurrection, and dangerous.'

'I had a couple of eunuchs protecting me.'

'My father won't even let me go with them. He says there are too many brawls there these days and he says it's all the fault of those Christians. Anyway where is this fortune-teller now? Perhaps she could tell my fortune.'

'She went towards Antioch,' said Zenobia.

'What did she look like?' asked Samoya.

'Ancient, toothless, with masses of gold bangles on her arms and long ear-rings and she walked with a stick and had a bright red mark in the middle of her forehead.'

The two friends were so busy talking that they failed to realise the soldiers were approaching until their slaves began to get very fidgety and some of them started to cry.

'What's the matter now?' Zenobia asked angrily.

'The soldiers, m'lady,' they cried.

Samoya started to her feet as the standard-bearer came into view. Zenobia tried to do the same but found she couldn't stand, and she couldn't walk as her foot throbbed too much.

'But I'm not staying here looking like a washerwoman in front of those Romans,' said Zenobia.

Then Samoya ordered a number of slaves to carry her friend on their shoulders. It was uncomfortable, awkward and slow, but Zenobia preferred it. And nobody was going to argue with her.

Copyright © 1994 by Fleur Reynolds