I began to feel—dare I say it?—slightly jaded. Perhaps I had traveled too far, seen too much. Pleasures that had amused me began to bore me. Food lost its flavor, inebriation was tedious, and even ecstasies of the flesh seemed repetitious. The philosophers and sages all began to sound alike. Alexandria itself—the most cosmopolitan of cities, center of culture, beacon to mankind—began to seem mundane and ordinary, just another place.
And then …
I was near the waterfront one day, passing a market where slaves were sold. It was not one of the better such markets in the city; the goods were usually damaged or in some way second-rate. Some of the slaves were offered so cheaply that even I might have afforded one—had I needed a servant and wished to pay for the upkeep. A cat would have suited me better than a slave, but either would need to be fed.
The item on offer was a toothless old vagrant who had agreed to give up his freedom if anyone would care to purchase him. The crowd hooted and made catcalls. There were no takers. The auctioneer voided the offer, and the disconsolate would-be slave shambled off. The next offering was brought onto the block.
“Not this one again!” cried someone.
“She’s back,” said another. “Didn’t someone buy her just a few days ago?”
“Bought her, took her home—and returned her the next day!” came the answer. “She’s a troublemaker, that one. Buyer beware—unless you don’t mind having a finger bit off!”
“Looks harmless enough. Not that big—”
“It’s the small, wiry ones you have to look out for.”
“Nice figure. Could be quite pretty, if someone were to bathe and take a brush to her.”
“Pretty counts for nothing, if she’s too wild to be tamed.”
The auctioneer called for silence. He looked unhappy, like a man with a toothache. “I have for sale one female slave, exact age unknown, though you can see for yourself that she’s quite young. I won’t pretend that she’s fresh —many of you have seen her before. A few of you have even owned her already—and brought her back to be sold again. Her current owner is aware of the problematic nature of this item, and so he is willing to start the bidding at a very low amount.” He named a ridiculously low sum, the cost of a few days’ worth of bread.
For the first time, I took a good look at the girl on the block. She had kept her head lowered until that moment. Now she looked up, pushed the masses of black hair from her face, and stared defiantly at the crowd. She stood with one foot in front of the other and held her shoulders back. Her posture and demeanor were not that of a slave. Her dark, glimmering eyes met mine.
My heart quickened. Something stirred in me that I had never felt before.
I looked into the little money bag I carried. As low as was the figure the auctioneer had named, I did not have enough.
The auctioneer called out the figure again. The crowd shuffled restlessly. No one bid.
“Very well,” sighed the auctioneer. “I am authorized to lower the starting bid.” He named a figure that was half of what he had named before.
It was exactly the amount I had in my purse. I studied the coins to be sure, then swallowed hard and looked at the girl again. She stared back at me. On her face I seemed to read amusement and disdain. But that was only on the surface, the face she showed to everyone. There was something else in her eyes, something only I could see— an expression at once proud and pleading, demure and demanding.
Never having bid on a slave before, I slowly raised my hand.
“We have a buyer!” cried the auctioneer, looking relieved and slightly astonished. Others in the crowd raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. Some laughed out loud.
Eager to finalize the transaction at once, the auctioneer summoned me onto the block and reached for my purse. As he counted the coins, I asked him what the girl was called.
“A name as peculiar and barbaric as she is. Hebrew, I think: Bethesda.”
Looking at her, I spoke the curious word for the first time. “Bethesda,” I whispered. “Now I know the name of the Eighth Wonder of the World.”
The auctioneer looked at me as if I were crazy. So did Bethesda.
So began the next chapter of my life.
CHRONOLOGY
ca. 2550 BC
The Great Pyramid is built in Egypt.
ca. 600
The Walls and Hanging Gardens are built at Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar.
776
The first games are held at Olympia.
ca. 750
The Temple of Artemis is constructed at Ephesus; it will subsequently be destroyed more than once (by flood and by fire) and rebuilt.
482
Xerxes demolishes the Walls and Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
