The Changing Room 3

  

into the courtyard and come into the anteroom. First he would put some artifact he had gotten along the way into a basket. I would collect each man's artifacts, and at the close of his time with me I would bring them out and he would take them to make some work of art. He did not know until then that this was to be the use of his offerings. There was a basin of water in the anteroom, salts for washing, ointments and powders of varying scents, a fresh white tunic. He would wash, change and anoint himself and then he would shake the gourd. No two sessions were alike, as no two men were alike.

No man was to speak during a session nor would I, nor was he to rise once seated. His preparation, his entry into the changing room with its colored lamps, its tiers of veils, fragrances, artifacts, instruments of sound, the treatment and its natural ending was all a single act. If interrupted, he would return to the anteroom, change and leave. Through Ezra I came to believe that there is nothing more beautiful than a man who has found peace with his own beauty.

When he first came to see about the work, we were seated on marble benches in the sunny courtyard, planning for his sessions. Suddenly he stood up, towering over me. Ilona's deep purring stopped. Ezra stepped back, but was not to be dissuaded. He was a big man, an ironsmith, with sons to run his business.

"I shall make you my wife," he said evenly, dark eyes gleaming. "I shan't have to think when to come here to you, and when to stay away."

Despite the bold words I saw a fear in his eyes that was not caused by my pet.

"You, I will give your own room," he added.

My legs were crossed, my feet bare but for the lapis ring my grandfather had made. I slowly raised my foot. When Ezra's gaze stayed on the ring instead of going to the opening of my robe, I knew he would appear as we had planned. I went into the house while Ilona stayed drowsing in the sun.