Theodora by Stella Duffy Page A

a good citizen, she had not only the weight of her fame, but also the power of the City behind her – the City that officially decried her second profession, but also taxed her earnings both on-stage and off.
    ‘Sorry, I don’t pay.’
    ‘You should have said that first.’
    ‘You should have asked for payment first.’
    ‘I usually do,’ said Theodora.
    ‘And why didn’t you this time? Because you were happy? Enjoying the body of a man who enjoys yours? Eating a pleasant dinner and drinking good wine in the company of a man who has travelled and seen something of the world and met plenty of women in his time …’
    ‘Hardly a recommendation.’
    ‘For either of us.’ Hecebolus was still holding Theodora close though she was trying to move away now, pushing against his body, digging her toes into his shins, her fingers on his torso, sharp nails threatening to spoil his skin at any moment. ‘But still, it is not usual for me to see someone on stage and know the moment I see her – the moment I saw you – that I wanted you.’
    Theodora did not stop pushing, he did not stop holding her to him.
    ‘It is, though, usual for me. I am used to men wanting me.’
    ‘Not used to me wanting you. Not used to me wanting you as a lover, not a whore.’
    ‘Don’t be silly, we’ve had a nice evening, that’s all.’
    ‘We can have more.’
    ‘We’ve both drunk too much.’
    ‘We can do this sober.’
    ‘I don’t fuck sober.’
    ‘Maybe you’d like to give it a try.’
    ‘And maybe you’d like to pay my way.’
    ‘I don’t pay my lovers.’
    ‘I don’t have lovers.’
    ‘You do now.’
    For so many reasons, and for none in particular, Hecebolus was different. He was smart and bright and ambitious – all good things and all very much the kind of thing she saw day in, day out among the young men of Constantinople. Unlike the men she usually met, he really did want to spend time with her, he liked to talk almost as much as he liked to have sex. He wasn’t frightened of her – her passion for work, food, drink or, now, for grief did not scare him off. Theodora could not talk easily to her family about their loss, she had never been especially close to Hypatia, and in their pain the two women became even more distant; Comito dealt with her tears by concentrating even more on her singing. Hecebolus happened to be in the right place at the right time for Theodora’s grief. He had never known Anastasia and so it was easier to talk to him about her. It was easier for Theodora to make a story of her loss. Eventually, she even let Hecebolus see her cry. Just once, but it was enough. And because he held her, and listened, and did not offer solutions or try to make it all right, or tell her she would get over the pain, because he simply allowed her to cry, Theodora chose to trust him. Trust him enough to leave with him.
    Not a good enough reason for Sophia.
    ‘Dear God and whatever goddesses there might ever have been, don’t be such a stupid tart. You’re heartbroken aboutAnastasia, you’re in lust with that great oaf – and that’s all it is, lust – that new piece we put in the second half of the show doesn’t do as well as the geese, the company’s in a bit of a slow period … but none of those things are a reason to leave.’ She paused here, drew herself up to her full height and then came back down again, a small woman making an important point and, even in the moment of doing so, knowing she would make her point more clearly without performing. She grounded herself, took up her full height and no more. ‘Please, we’re your family, this is your home, don’t go with him.’
    ‘He listens to me.’
    ‘I listen to you.’
    ‘You lecture me.’
    ‘Because you’re being stupid. It won’t work.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘You’re running away.’
    ‘What’s wrong with that?’
    ‘It can’t last.’
    ‘What can?’
    The offer was just too good. To come away, be his partner, his consort – not,