Beauty of Thebes - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Murmuring Voice

Next to the stream stood an old silverberry tree. Eutostea sat under its shade and cooled herself down. She could hear the soft, murmuring voices of others inspecting the materials in the wagon. One of the wooden containers filled with oil had been damaged and leaked all over.

She wondered whether she needed to offer something at the festival.

Eutostea mused over the thought. Princesses had no possessions of their own. Women were unable to inherit properties in Thebes… only with the exception of partial ownership of their husband’s belongings after their marriage. Since Eutostea was an unmarried woman, and possibly for the rest of her life… she was no longer a virgin… her proprietary status was no different from a beggar. She disliked speaking confidently, as if she was hiding golden bars in her possession, but there was nothing she could do over spilt water.

Eutostea sighed and straightened out the wrinkles in her clothes as she stood up from her seat.

The line began to move again.

She wondered whether she’d be able to bring herself to care for the festival in an unknown and unfamiliar city after all the hardships she faced. Happiness and enjoyment were contagious emotions.

When she entered the city, the smell of delicious food wafted through their nostrils. Even the drinks were offered to vagabonds by the farmers and citizens, of whom we’re grateful for the year’s harvest. Everyone smiled. Their lungs were filled to the brim with merry laughter.

Tables were strewn out everywhere. Clean pieces of cloth were spread across the display stands and adorned with plates of delicious food and olive branches. There were even groups of people making bouquets out of wildflowers in the fields and handing them to the passing visitors.

Eutostea smiled and accepted a bouquet from them. The person who handed it to her was a girl donned in a simple white dress. She beamed a bright smile to Eutostea before fluttering away to the next person as if she was walking on air.

The party moved their heavy feet towards the place they’d be staying at. It was a house Paeon’s cousin owned. The room Eutostea had been assigned to had a ceiling so low that numerous vines and weeds messily weaved through it. She unpacked her belongings and sat down on the bed before taking a good look at the room.

The echoing laughter outside was incessantly noisy.

With a vacant expression, Eutostea began to massage her tired feet. If they were to leave the following morning, she needed to be sure no blisters formed on her feet.

Meanwhile, the other members of her traveling party dispersed towards Agora where the festival was at its highest peak.

From a distance, the voices of the many merchants hollered, calling towards potential buyers. To Eutostea, the sound was like a lullaby and before she knew, she had fallen asleep on top of the mattress consisting of three straw mats.

The cold air began to creep up from the floor. The chilly feeling caused her to shiver and she awoke from the deep sleep.

Night had fallen and it’d grown dark without her notice.

The festival only grew livelier at night. It was quiet. No one had come back. It was as if she was stuck in a different world.

“It should be around here somewhere…”

She suddenly caught the sound of a soft whisper. At first, Eutostea thought it to be a mouse and looked around the room on alert, but she realized the source of the sound came from outside. Sliding her shoes on, Eutostea cautiously walked towards the door. The light of the oil lamp flashed back and forth through the crack of the door. It was taunting her.

“This is oil… and this… isn’t something I can eat..”

The murmuring voice sounded closer than ever before.

Eutostea tiptoed as quietly as she could to flatten herself against the old, decrepit door. Someone was fumbling through the items in the wagon. It was a wagon that held items that was to be offered to Apollo’s temple.

…Could it be that the guards instructed to watch over the wagon had left to participate in the festival as well?

Eutostea fervently hoped that was not the case.

The figure ransacking the defenseless wagon stood on their tiptoes and practically had their entire upper body submerged in the wagon.

It was a man.

The blue robes he wore dangled precariously from his belt almost like a tail. Judging from his lack of shoes, he seemed to be a beggar.

The light of the oil lamp cast a reddish glow against the defined muscles on his shoulder and back. Many would think he was a strong man none would dare anger. No… he’s no beggar. Right? Does a well-fed and strong, healthy beggar exist…?

Something’s not right.

Pondering over the matter, Eutostea contemplated on her choices. Should he stop him or leave him alone?