Kissa
My mistress came bounding up the stairs, her face alight. “He was wonderful,” she said, the words flowing on a tide of enthusiasm. “He brought a stylus and leather, and taught me how to write my name in Hebrew letters. And then he demonstrated Greek letters and said I would learn how to read and write both.”
I gave her a tentative smile. “That is good, mistress.”
“Tomorrow he will bring a scroll for me to keep as my own. He says it is simple writing, and soon I ought to be able to read it myself. Won’t that be wonderful? Soon I will be able to write letters and lists and—oh! I might even write a book!”
I lifted the stack of himations I had folded and put them in a trunk. “Very good, miss. I am happy for you.”
Shelamzion sat on the bed and peered at me. “You do not look happy.”
“I am.”
“No, you are not. What is wrong?”
I closed the trunk and blew out a breath. How could I verbalize my feelings? How could I explain that lately I had been depressed by the realization that I would never live anywhere but by her side, I would never meet anyone unless she allowed it, and I would never know anything unless I learned it from her?
“You are going to learn,” I began, “and that is good. People will expect the ward of the high priest to know things.”
“Why does that displease you?”
“It does not displease me. But . . . being a slave does not mean I don’t want to learn. I would love to know how to read and write. I would love to know more about many things.”
Shelamzion sucked at the inside of her cheek, her brows twitching like a pair of inchworms. “Why do you want to know how to read? You have no scrolls.”
For a bright girl, my mistress could be surprisingly blind. The world in which I had found myself was one of letters—people sent messages, read scrolls, studied manuscripts, and wrote receipts. If I was ever going to find my parents in Egypt, I would need to know how to read and write. If I was ever going to be more than my mistress’s hands and feet, I would need knowledge.
“I could read to you,” I continued to explain, sitting on the edge of the trunk, “if perhaps you were too tired to hold a scroll. I could write letters for you, if you needed a scribe. Don’t you see—I could be a much better servant for you if I knew how to read and write.”
Shelamzion nodded slowly. “But how are you to learn? My uncle would not want you to be in the room with me and the tutor.” She crossed her arms. “And the tutor might think it odd if my handmaid was present during my lesson.”
“Then you could teach me,” I said. “When you come back from your study time, you could share what you learned. If that pleases you, of course.”
“That might work. But you could not fall behind on your duties. The laundry, the cleaning—you would still have to do your regular work. Mother would be upset if you fell behind.”
“Then it’s settled.” Shelamzion’s face brightened. “Make sure your work is finished by the time I leave Josu Attis. I will come here then and share what I have learned—most of it, anyway.”
I smiled. “Thank you, miss. I promise I will be a good student.”
“You had better.” She lowered her brows in a stern expression. “Or I will have to punish you severely.”
For an instant I felt a twinge of fear, but then Shelamzion released a peal of laughter. I laughed too, though the moment had been extremely uncomfortable.
In the six years we had been together, my young mistress had learned one lesson without being formally taught—how to maintain the dignified distance between master and slave. The young, innocent girl had grown into a sophisticated little lady. She still talked freely with me at night, and she still allowed me to sleep beside her bed, but in public she rarely spoke to me. By observing the high priest, his wife, and other important people, she had quietly absorbed all she needed to know about the relationship between slaves and masters.
So I was not surprised when she hesitated at my question. Masters were supposed to be educated, but slaves definitely did not have tutors. But as long as Shelamzion could control what, when, and how much I learned, she would be content to teach me.
I understood, for I too had been learning.