The Jade Bracelet

The streets of Laokeia bustled with activity even in the early hours of morning. The sun painted the clouds in the pinks and purples that so many merchants in the silk district claimed their fabrics emulated.

The house was not small. Though hardly anything could be small when compared to the packed-together dwellings of central Laokeia. Then again, the house could barely be called large. One might say it was on the large end of medium. Unless, of course, one lived in the cramped center of the city.

Birds sang in the trees near Polyxena’s window, and she felt the all too familiar urge to join in their song. Their chirps wove together in a sort of cacophony that should have been awful to listen to, but was instead beautiful. The ethereal sound filled the air and her room. And so Polyxena started to hum as she prepared for her day.

Dipping a cloth in her washbasin, she sang softly.

“Watching the moon rise in the opalescent sky.”

Her voice was gentle yet bright, the melody seeming to carry on the breeze that blew through her open window.

She wrung out the cloth. Water dripped back into the bowl, adding percussion to Polyxena’s vocals.

“Watching the light paint the clouds.”

When new acquaintances mentioned Polyxena’s singing, she’d often say that she sang to the earth. This wasn’t entirely true. In fact, she sang with it. The earth joined her in song, its power coursing through her, elating her. There was nothing quite like it.

Polyxena ran the cloth over her face, rubbing it roughly over her forehead and nose. Her face stung a little, but that was precisely what she expected.

“Shadows fade, for just a moment.”

In another life, Polyxena might have been a minstrel. She often dreamt of this life, of entertaining strangers. She would spend long nights staring at the starry sky, remembering the times she’d traveled with her mother. She missed those times. The fire. The laughter. The songs.

Her eyes strayed to the little blue box that rested on a shelf in the corner of her room. For a moment, her song stopped, and tears pricked at her eyes. Then she looked away, and, swallowing, continued her song.

“The sky is bright, for just a night.”

Polyxena’s fingers wove through her long dark hair, maneuvering the strands with practiced precision. Soon, her hair was woven in a seemingly intricate yet relatively simple braid. She tied it with a bright red ribbon.

“The Spider watches, awe in her eyes.”

Several Hours Later

The sky was blue. The sort of blue you only see when staring at it during midday in the coastal cities of Perganom. There was something about this blue which was unforgettable.

“There’s come a gift for you.” Linde voiced, handing Polyxena a folded up handkerchief.

“A gift?” Polyxena unfolded the handkerchief, inside was a bracelet.

The bracelet was fashioned in an old style, made of small jade beads positioned in interlocking patterns. Polyxena knew that the beads were held together by string, but none was visible. It was a tribute to beauty and craftsmanship. She should have loved it.

Polyxena should have loved it, but, for some unknown reason, a sour feeling had found its way into her stomach.

She decided to seek out her father.

It took Polyxena about two minutes to find him.

Her father sat at a table in the main room. To his left sat Ptolemy and Perikles, Polyxena’s two older brothers. They spoke of the wine routes to the west of Eritrea, her father mentioning some war which was, apparently, limiting the supply of Wesland pressed wine, partially contributing to the family’s worsening financial situation. Particularly, the debt. Polyxena waited at the doorway for permission to enter.

It took seven minutes for anyone to notice her. It took eight more for her to be invited in. Both Ptolemy and Perikles had glanced at her several times. Ptolemy with that annoyed expression he got whenever father carried on so, and Perikles with that quiet look of sympathy he wore so often. Finally, the discussion ended, and Perikles jotted something down.

Her father gestured at her to enter, “You may come in now.”

Polyxena took her seat on her father’s right side, three seats down. She left seats where her mother and Persephone had sat when they’d still lived there, as was customary.

Her father addressed her, “What is your business?”

“I have received a gift from an unknown giver. I was wondering if you had any knowledge of it.”

Her father tilted his head, “What is the gift?”

Polyxena showed him the bracelet, and he examined it.

His eyes lit up in recognition, “Ah, jade. Well, it is nothing to fret about. I almost expected this.”

Polyxena tilted her head in a way that could be described as identical to the motion her father had just made, “What do you mean?”

“A proposition has been made, regarding you, and I have accepted.”

An uncomfortable realization dawned on her.

“You are marrying me off.”

Like Persephone.

The room went quiet. Polyxena felt numb, as if she had been submerged underwater. Ptolemy was the first to break the silence.

He stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor,

“Father, she is too young!”

“She is nearly a woman,” her father argued.

“A girl of fourteen is still just a girl.”

Polyxena looked away from Ptolemy’s angry face and her father’s indifferent one, instead looking to Perikles as the argument continued.

“It is not unheard of,” reasoned her father.

Perikles hadn’t spoken. He just stared with that quiet look of concerned observation. That helplessness. The one she felt so deeply.

“It is unusual,” Ptolemy declared.

Perikles met her eyes, and a moment passed between them. It was a moment of understanding, in a way. It was a moment of misunderstanding, in another.

“Younger than she are many happy wives made.”

As she held his gaze, Polyxena could see tears in Perikles’ eyes.

“Many? Whom do you cite?” asked Ptolemy.

Perikles swallowed, and looked away.

“It does not matter. What is done is done,” her father concluded.

This sentence brought her back to the conversation, even as Ptolemy took his seat in frustration.

“Who is it?” She asked.

If Polyxena was lucky, it might be someone her age. Like Ajax or Theo.

Polyxena hoped it wasn’t Theo. It wouldn’t be the worst fate. He was pretty enough, and he was not unkind, but he had the personality of a rock. The boy had no sense of humor, wasn’t quick-witted, and couldn’t have had an original thought in his life. A marriage with him might be comfortable, and quite possibly good for her family, but it was no wish of hers.

“It is Sir Karagiannis,” her father answered.

“He is too old for her!” Ptolemy was standing again, unable to control himself.

Ptolemy had been right. Achilles Karagiannis was 38 years old. And Polyxena had only just turned fourteen. This sort of match was not unheard of, but he was still much too old for her. Still, she decided to ask her father some questions before she escalated things or crossed a line.

“Why him?”

“He asked for your hand, though he wanted to wait until you were older.”

Relief flooded her. There was still time. Time that she could use to find her way out of this predicament.

“Of course, I convinced him that waiting was pointless, considering that you will be married in the end anyways.”

Polyxena tensed, “What?”

He ignored her outburst, “You will wed him within the month.”

She narrowed her eyes, “And if I refuse?”

Her father looked her in the eye in that unfeeling way of his.

“I have already accepted his proposal,” he stated.

She lifted her chin, “Well, I have not.”

“Polyxena, don’t be ridiculous. This is for your happiness.”

For my happiness?

Polyxena’s cheeks were flushed from anger. Tears pricked at

her eyes.

“How can you expect me to be happy? You are selling me off like some race horse to a man I barely know. Without even asking me.”

“I acted for your benefit, and for the benefit of the family. I will not apologize.”

Her eyes narrowed once more. She knew she wouldn’t win. Polyxena had already lost her composure, and he would consider any further arguments invalid. So she relented.

She released a breath, “Considering the fact that I have no choice in the matter, I accept.”

Her father smiled, “Someday you will be grateful you listened to me.”

Polyxena smiled back, tightly, “I already am.”

A moment passed, then her father spoke, “Polyxena, if there is nothing else, you may be dismissed,” he addressed Ptolemy, “You as well, Ptolemy. I wish to consult Perikles on his notes in private.”

Ptolemy and Polyxena stood, nodded at their father, and left. Polyxena looked back at the room as she exited it, catching a concerned look from Perikles.

As soon as they were out of idle earshot, Ptolemy cursed under his breath, “If he were not my father, I would duel him.”

“I know.”

“If I could do more, I would,” Ptolemy affirmed.

“I know. Thank you.”

Ptolemy walked away, after all there was no more to say.

If.

This word rang in her ears.

If he could do more. If he were not our father. If we could convince him.

Life was full of ifs.

An Hour Later:

Polyxena turned back to her satchel, taking inventory of the contents.

Hair ribbon. Clean stockings. Flask. Hair brush. Dachamr. Blanket.

She walked to her shelf, reaching up to grab something from it. In her hand she held a little blue box, painted with pink flowers. Polyxena opened the box, nestled inside was a little wooden horse. Her mother had carved this for her out of willow wood before she was born. It was her most prized possession.

What would she think of this? Of me?

Polyxena walked slowly towards her bed, still fixated on the horse. She sat.

Oh, Mother. I know what I have to do, but I am not sure I have the strength to do it.

“Xe?”

Polyxena jumped to her feet, standing between her satchel and the doorway, “Yes?”

Perikles stood in the doorway, “Are you alright?”

Polyzena almost laughed, “How could I be? Father has sold me off like some common racehorse.”

Perikles sighed, “Look, I know it is sudden, but maybe you

will be happy?”

Polyxena repeated her question, “How could I be?”

He avoided meeting her eyes, “I do not know. Really. But Persephone is. Maybe you will be too.”

“I will not.”

Perikles sighed once more, “You may be right.”

He caught sight of the open satchel, and shock hit his face.

He met her eyes for the first time, “Xe, are you planning to run away?”

Polyxena almost lied, but she knew it would be useless, so she simply lifted her chin, “Yes.”

“You cannot do that.”

Polyxena stared at him.

He continued, pain and worry evident in his features, “The world is dangerous, Xe.”

“I will be fine.”

“You do not know what happens to young girls out there,” he argued.

“Whatever it is, I will risk it.”

“You could die. Or worse…” he trailed off, leaving her to wonder what else he might have said.

Whatever it was, it would be a choice. That was all that mattered.

“But I would be living, at least for a while!”

“But at what price?”

Polyxena paused, “I do not know. You are right about that.”

Perikles nodded, “I am right about the rest as well. You should not go. You should stay, marry Achilles, and become a happy wife.”

Polyxena shook her head, “But I could never be truly happy as his wife.”

“No one is truly happy. The world is full of sorrow and pain and death. I cannot change that, and neither can you. All we can do, is swallow our tears, and our arguments, and our pain, and smile.”

“Mother was happy.”

Perikles looked as if he might choke, but, after a moment, he swallowed, “You are right. She was.”

“If she was happy, maybe I can be too.”

Perikles closed his eyes, and sighed, “Maybe.”

“I need to live, even if it kills me.”

Perikles inhaled, a single tear sliding down his cheek, “If you choose to leave, I will not stop you.”

Polyxena hugged him, tears springing to her eyes. He hugged her back, and for a moment, they just stood there, embracing.

Then, he spoke, “Could you write me?”

Polyxena shook her head, “I do not want Father to try to find me.”

Perikles thought for a moment, “You could address the letters to Eleni.”

His betrothed. The one her father had picked for him some months ago.

He must have noticed that she was unsure, because his next words were, “You can trust her, I promise.”

Somewhere deep inside her, she knew these words were true. Eleni was kind, and intelligent, and cautious. A seemingly perfect match for Perikles. Perhaps not only seemingly, as he always seemed more relaxed when near her.

“Okay.”

It would be nice to trust someone.

After Dinner:

Polyxena sat on her bed for the last time. She had endured her last dinner with her family. She had carefully avoided looking at those two empty chairs for the last time. She had seen her brother’s faces for the last time. Had been excused for the last time. Had seen Perikles smile at her, in a sad sort of way, for the last time.

In a moment, she would leave her home for the last time.

Polyxena grabbed her Tambouras as she left the room. The last piece of her life she needed to take. One of the most vital ones. After all, she needed an instrument to accompany her voice.

She left quickly. Quietly. A secret in the night. One that was only to be told in songs and whispered nothings. Many times she would lose herself, and find herself, underneath the stars. Then, she would sing about it.