Higher Learning

As reluctant as I was to stay on at the Courtesan Casa, it surprised me how readily I fell into a rhythm of life there.

Adrianna said she needed a break from continuing the story of the Patron’s Daughter and the Brute, and she took that break. A couple of weeks passed with none of her vivid storytelling at night.

At first, I was disappointed to have the exciting tale interrupted.

But ultimately, I was thankful to have the time to get to know Adrianna as a woman and as a friend.

It refreshed me to see her as something other than the angry young peasant she had once been, or the glamorous and larger-than-life Courtesan she became.

I met her every morning and most evenings in the theater.

While she danced, I drew rough sketches of Adrianna. Yet I joined her for the stretching and meditation.

She was a patient teacher as she walked me through the strange poses that I could not get into as far as she could. But I loved the buoyancy in my body after the exercises were done.

No wonder Adrianna always began her dance this way. But oftentimes, she would finish off her dance with stretching that segued to meditation.

I savored that peace and stillness that came from closing my eyes to be fully present inside myself. I even craved it. That inner space brought me back to the harmony of roaming outside with the sheep.

Courtesan Casa was an utterly fascinating place. Yet it was also foreign to me.

People were around all the time, every day, and I missed solitude. I missed being outside with my flock.

Those moments of stillness in the theater brought me as close to that serenity as I was going to get in the bustle and liveliness of the Casa.

After the morning routine was over, Adrianna and I would enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Sometimes we chatted, but oftentimes we ate in silence until the Butler came and read the paper to her.

Of course, I could have read to her, and used the various stories for her reading lessons.

But this had been a ritual between Adrianna and the Butler for so long, I didn’t wish to interrupt. Once he finished, the Butler left the paper with me.

Then the instruction in reading and writing began.

At first, the servants were dismissed. Yet after a few days, everybody figured out what was going on, and Adrianna relaxed enough to let her household see her vulnerable as she learned to read and write.

It made things easier because on those days when Adrianna didn’t have evening engagements, the lessons lasted several hours.

It was very pleasant to have refreshments coming as needed. Study required a lot of concentration, and it was incredible how often we both wanted to snack while working.

As I suspected, Adrianna had an excellent mind. She was even quicker to learn than I thought she would be.

It was far easier to teach her, Wanderer, than it had been to teach you. To be fair, I think it helped that I taught her reading and writing simultaneously.

But Adrianna was blessed with a raw, natural intelligence, more than I ever had, and probably more than you.

I began with the alphabet.

I wrote it out, and made her practice drawing the letters while I sounded them out. Like the governess who had taught me, I used phonetics, how letters and consonants sounded when linked together, using words out of the newspaper as examples.

Writing was challenging for her.

But she mastered the sounds of the alphabet within days. Once she made those connections, Adrianna picked up reading so fast it unnerved me to no end.

Instructing her was a pleasure.

Her concentration was formidable.

Her large golden eyes blazed as she watched and listened. I had never seen more absolute focus than I saw in Adrianna.

As usual, her beauty took my breath away.

It didn’t help that Adrianna was as flirtatious as ever during our lessons.

Somehow, she always found something to inspire a knowing grin, an impertinent wink, and that unnerving manner of laughing she had, out loud with her head thrown back.

At least a couple of times per lesson, I lost my composure and my train of thought, which inspired more grins, winks, and laughter.

But her patience with herself gave me pause.

Even though Adrianna was patient with her servants, her protégées, her strongmen, and her prodigies, most gifted people I’ve known were seldom kind to themselves.

I’ve always seen it as a perverse form of vanity. Painful expression of vanity, of course, but as driven as she was, I expected Adrianna to pressure herself to excel.

We all grew up with the fable on pride about the tortoise and the hare. Although the hare was a much faster animal, it was the tortoise that won the race.

I expected Adrianna to have the speed of the hare, along with the pride that went with it. I was agreeably surprised to see she paced herself more like the tortoise. She plodded along, rather than sprinted.

This was especially apparent as she struggled to write the words she understood and read so easily.

Bent over the paper, she painstakingly took her time with her letters and script, flicking her eyes to the alphabet and mouthing the words slowly to figure out which letters she needed for which words. Her spelling was atrocious, but she kept at writing with steady determination.

If Adrianna ever suffered a moment’s frustration, I saw little proof of it. This disciplined humility was a most welcome and pleasurable surprise.

That quality was what made me like Adrianna.

During this time, I realized I liked her quite a lot.

I actually forgot all about the Patron’s Daughter and the Brute during this respite that I enjoyed so much.

Yes, Wanderer, I promise to teach you how to write in due time.

To return to the story, this fresh source of esteem made it impossible for me to deny the desire Adrianna inspired in me.

I figured that would get your attention, Wanderer, and I will get there in due course. 

Luring Her In

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Oddly enough, the Patron’s Daughter never admitted to rejection.

She spoke of the Noble Son every day, her tone peevish as she complained of his desertion. That was how she thought of his going home without asking her to marry him.

She mourned the loss of pride and the embarrassment her family endured.

She never expressed any longing for the Noble Son, or heartbreak that he hadn’t returned her affection. She was furious that a man she would have willingly married hadn’t wanted to marry her.

As the Patron’s Daughter complained to me daily, I learned that the lamented loss she suffered was her reputation of perfect unattainability.

As the man who didn’t care to succeed where so many men had failed, the Patron’s Daughter was obsessed with marrying the Noble Son simply to regain her cherished sense of self.

I was disgusted.

And of course, I had moments of malice. I relished that poison coursing through me as I listened to the frets and grievances of the Patron’s Daughter.

Yet, getting to know her had a bizarre effect on me.

Of course, I didn’t like her any better. The Patron’s Daughter was everything I’d always thought her to be.

Being in her confidence, I discovered how vapid she was. She lacked intelligence as well as common sense.

Not only did I understand why the Noble Son “abandoned” her, as she put it, I marveled that she had actually spurned so many suitors before him.

As beautiful as she was to look at, the Patron’s Daughter was an irritating, tedious bore. Once I knew that, it was impossible to envy her.

Listening to her, I also learned about the perils of vanity. The wisdom of that awareness would be invaluable to my future.

In the Life, I never fell into the pitfalls of lavish praise most women are vulnerable to. I enjoyed and received the ridiculous compliments that came my way, but I never took flattery seriously. As the years passed, I would witness the fall of several beautiful and even talented courtesans simply because vanity had been their weakness.

To return to the Patron’s Daughter, she made it easy for me to betray her since she was always rather horrid to me during our walks and talks.

As the Sorcerer had said, I didn’t matter enough for hatred. And I was too unimportant for courtesy as well.

Once the shock of rejection had worn off, her self-pity became anger, and I was the sack of meal she chose to pound on.

She never laid a hand on me physically, but the Patron’s Daughter was snide and insulting, and it galled me to tolerate these personal assaults.

So many times, I drew blood from my tongue restraining the urge to say what I really thought.

Instead, I clucked like a chicken full of sympathetic noises like a groveling handmaiden, and despised myself for it.

Every few days, the Sorcerer would appear out of nowhere.

He never asked questions, and he always suggested ways to increase her trust.

After one particularly vexing walk, I was in no mood for fresh ideas to get closer to the Patron’s Daughter.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

“Just once, I’d love to tell her off! Maybe even smack her face.”

“You will do no such thing, Addie.”

“My tongue is sore and bloody from biting it so much.”

“I don’t care if your tongue becomes thick with callouses. You will continue being all that is agreeable, even grateful to be in her confidence.”

I opened my mouth to protest. But the Sorcerer held up his hand.

“That is what she expects from you. In her mind, you have no right to treat her with contempt. You do that even once, and you will never get another chance.”

“Why do you even want to seduce her so much? If you spent the time with her as I did, I bet you’d think her rather ugly after a while.”

The Sorcerer laughed, his long, yellowed teeth gleaming.

“I’m sure that’s true. But I’m not interested in her personality.”

I shook my head, while the Sorcerer tilted his head to one side.

“Would putting the Patron’s Daughter in her place really be worth the opportunity lost? I suppose that depends on how badly you want this.”

“You want this every bit as much as I do. She’s not even worth it!”

“None of this is about want, Addie, this is about need, especially yours. There will always be plenty of foolish girls, and I don’t have a vital need to seduce the Patron’s Daughter. It’s your fate that depends on this, not mine.”

His baritone voice penetrated me and echoed inside.

But even worse was the gaze that never wavered. I don’t think he ever blinked.

As I said before, I was never afraid of the Sorcerer of the Caverns. But looking into those empty eyes of his made my innards curdle.

“You need this, Addie. If the Patron’s Daughter doesn’t succumb, you get nothing.”

And there was no arguing with the truth.

For all his ideas, the Sorcerer could not advise me on what to do to bring the Patron’s Daughter to him.

All he would say is that some things could not be planned or connived. I would have to recognize her moment of weakness and act on it.

As usual, the Sorcerer was right.

Over the following weeks, I met the Patron’s Daughter after long, hard days working the fields. I held my tongue, nodded as she groused, and ignored her abuses.

Ironically, that perfect moment came from my suppressed annoyance.

I was in a dreadful mood when I met her that day.

The peak of summer was viciously hot, and working the fields had been pure misery. Even the most stoic of workers cursed as we dragged hoes, pulled weeds, and drenched the earth with our sweat. I almost passed out, and several others did.

So there was no holding my tongue when I met with the Patron’s Daughter, who was especially petulant that day.

“Aren’t you getting bored yet?” I snapped. “Do you ever think about what you want, or do you simply like to complain?”

I can still remember the pitch of vexation in my voice. What I said made me both aghast and thrilled. I held my breath, waiting for her to lash out, stalk off, slap me, or anything to show that I had blown it.

Her small blue eyes grew wide for a moment. Then she glared at me.

I had clearly offended her, yet she didn’t storm off in indignation.

“What!”

“If you want to marry the Noble Son that much, I know somebody who might be able to help you.”

“That’s laughable! How could you possibly know anybody who could help me marry the Noble Son?”

“The same way I came to know all your secret sorrows.”

The Patron’s Daughter sneered at me and turned her back.

I almost panicked when she started to walk away, but I knew what to do. What I said next made me squirm with self-loathing for days, but it sealed my change in destiny.

“People confide in me because I don’t matter. Just like you do.”

This excerpt is out of my work-in-progress, The Shepherd and the Courtesan. If you’d like to read a previous piece, click HERE.