The Shepherd as Artist, the Courtesan as Muse

Image by Fabio Marciano from Pixabay

The images from Adrianna’s story made for vivid dreams, but not enough to deprive the Shepherd of sleep.

How she must have been as Addie, the angry, envious young peasant, along with images of the Sorcerer of the Caverns, the Brute, and the foolish vanity of the Patron’s Daughter that made it so easy for her to be maneuvered ran through the Shepherd’s mind.

But he still opened his eyes at his usual hour, during the darkest moments before the sun rose above the horizon. He was surprised to wake up well rested and alert.

His mind replayed the story in his mind while he dressed in the pants and shirt Adrianna’s servants laid out for him when he woke up.

The fabric was very soft.

The Shepherd appreciated the comfort of the garments, but was grateful they lacked the opulence and luxury of the dressing clothes from his first night.

Adrianna’s attention to detail was truly astonishing.

Besides the clothes, a servant left a washbasin filled with warm water and a cake of soap for the Shepherd to refresh himself. None of these ministrations had disturbed his rest.

He woke up to find everything readied for him. After quick refreshment, the Shepherd made his way to the theater.

Adrianna was already there.

She was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, with her eyes closed and her hands resting on her knees, breathing deeply and her expression serene.

The Shepherd didn’t hesitate to open his pad and let his pencil move freely and steadily.

He worked first on the basic lines of her form before memorizing the serenity and softness of her face.

The curtains were drawn back, darkness slowly giving way to the light of a sun starting its climb to the horizon.

The Shepherd paused to take it in.

Although he couldn’t capture the light with charcoal pencils, Adrianna looked incandescent, otherworldly even. She was timeless and ageless, the deep rose of coming day glowing in the silvery threads weaving through her braid.

In that moment, the Shepherd wished he had color to draw with.

Adrianna remained as still as a statue, giving him enough time to fill in more details before he glanced over and saw her staring at him. Her full mouth curved in a smile when their eyes met.

“Perhaps tomorrow you can join me in time for meditation,” she said in a soft voice.

“I find I’m much more present in my body through the day. The timing is wonderful just before sunrise.”

She leaned over to one side, and stretched her legs out to the side, making a wide scissor with her limbs as her torso curved and hugged the floor.

Pressing her hands into the floor, she pulled her hips up until her body made an inverted V.

The Shepherd hadn’t noticed the twins were also in the theater until they strung the first notes on their cellos.

Their song was very slow with a lingering quality as Adrianna started her dance, stretching to the rhythm of the music.

“This is one of the yoga poses I told you about yesterday,” she called out, breathing deeply and settling more into the pose.

“It’s a marvelous stretch for the entire backside of my body,” she continued after a moment.

“I swear I never suffer a moment’s back pain because I do this every day.”

Walking her hands a few steps further from her feet, she brought her hips to the floor, her legs stretched behind her, her back was straight for a moment.

Then breathing in deeply, she bent her knees and arched her back until her head touched her feet behind her.

This pose was more arduous, and the twins slowed the tempo of their tune even more.

She held that one for as long as she held the first posture.

Then she brought her legs and face to the ground, and bending her knees, brought her torso to rest on her thighs in a fetal position, with her arms stretched in front of her.

The Shepherd sketched brief lines to remember the poses, fascinated with what he saw.

After a couple of minutes, she came up and stretching her legs on either side of her, she stretched over each leg, her head resting on her shins.

No wonder Adrianna had kept the youthful contours of her figure.

She had more flexibility and nimbleness than women more than half her age.

Once she had limbered up enough, she crooked her knees and brought them up, sending her form into a tailspin.

The twins picked up the tempo one beat behind their mistress. Thus the warm up and stretching gave way to her dance.

Having music made a powerful difference in her dance.

The evening before it was fascinating to watch this woman move from her own internal rhythms, or perhaps to the beat of a music heard only inside her mind or her memory of beloved melodies.

But with a sound to dance to and with, her body became more open, deeper and more passionate.

She extended her limbs further, and the quality of her dance had more inflection and more expression.

She was not only dancing to the music, she was dancing with the musicians as her partners.

And the result was devastating.

The Shepherd knew he was inspired from how freely his pencil sketched across pages and pages, making crude shapes and notes for him to draw more intently on later.

His memory stored the most powerful moments for him.

There was no fatigue, no tightness in his hands or fingers that moved from a will of their own.

He lost himself in the preliminary sketches, already picturing in his mind the detailed sketches that would follow.

With the growing light in the room, the Shepherd realized he wanted to start working with some color to fully capture the beauty of this glorious woman.