Sappho in Violet and Gray

By K.A. Masters

Sappho is one of the most popular and elusive figures of Greek myth and culture. Although more influential than Shakespeare and literally worshipped as a goddess, little is known about her life outside of the handful of poetry fragments that survived the ravages of time. Over the centuries she has been portrayed as a chaste schoolteacher, a lusty lesbian showgirl, or a lovesick poet who died pining for the handsome fisherman Phaon.

Here Sappho is an asexual woman who experiences the world with love, passion, and joy. The Tenth Muse isn’t a loveless goddess but a caring human woman with a life full of love and meaning.

For centuries, Sappho has been condemned for who she loved. But what if the love she held in her heart wasn’t physical? If the world’s most passionate poet asexual, does that make the love in her heart less real?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Sep 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685502881

Book preview

Prologue: The Wedding

To me he seems like a god

as he sits opposite you

and listens to your sweet voice as you laugh.

But the heart in my breast seizes up,

for when I look at you

I cannot speak—my tongue is tied—

Fire engulfs my senses

My eyes grow dark

My ears ring

I break out into sweat

I cannot stop shaking

My skin fades to pale…

* * * *

The dull thud that the bouquet made as it slipped through Sappho’s trembling fingers resounded through the atrium loudly enough to interrupt her cousin’s wedding vows. She could sense Larichus’ anger smoldering as he made a silent but menacing gesture to her, then returned his attention to his bride and resumed his speech. She felt like one of the hideous monsters she’d been warned about as a child, like Medusa or Scylla or Gello combined, as she sensed everyone’s eyes staring down at her in horror and revulsion while she knelt down to retrieve the flowers. She tried to be discreet wanting to disappear beneath the folds of her linen himation and she hoped that she hadn’t ruined the ceremony. But as she plucked the flowers from the marble tiled floor, she lost control of her tears. She covered her mouth to keep her sobs from escaping from her throat and fled outside into the waning daylight.

She was still weeping an hour later when her parents found her in the stables. She was clinging to the neck of her family’s mare, sobbing into its soft mane. In her mind, Sappho could not shake the beauty of Larichus’ bride, her cousin’s angry glower, the ruined ceremony.

Her silver-haired mother placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, then gently pulled her into a soft, comforting embrace. What happened, love?

Sappho’s words flowed out of her in sobs and a waterfall of emotion. I’m sorry, Mother.

Her father merely rolled his eyes. Oof! Weddings and women.

Her mother gave an annoyed snort. Hush, Scamander.

He tried again, flashing a toothy grin from beneath the dark brown curls of his bushy beard. Don’t worry, pet, that’ll be you someday. You’ll get a beautiful gown, and a handsome husband, and have lots of rambunctious kids who’ll drop their bouquets at other people’s weddings. Then they’ll grow up and repeat the cycle.

Again her mother shushed him.

She told Sappho, Don’t listen to your father, love. I cry at weddings, too. It was such a beautiful ceremony! And nobody is going to remember if you dropped the bouquet. Everybody will be talking about how beautiful Larichus’ girl—what’s her name?—was. Everyone will be so overwhelmed by emotion that they won’t even remember that you dropped the bouquet. I promise.

Mother, I’m sorry. I just—couldn’t. She withdrew from her mother’s embrace and let out a long, soothing breath. She’s so pretty, mother.

Yes, she mused. That’ll be you someday. She gently squeezed her hand in encouragement.

Mother. Another pause, this time in realization. I can’t. I can’t be a bride.

Oh, gods. Not this again. Her father made a gesture of desperation. Kleis, do your magic. You know I’m hopeless with this stuff.

Now, dear, I know you still haven’t grown into your curves, but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You are a beautiful, kind-hearted young woman, and it is only a matter of time before some handsome young man will come along and ask for your hand.

No, Mother. I can’t marry because I—because I can’t marry a girl.

Her father sucked air through his teeth in exasperation. This again? Sappho, dove, every child thinks they like girls at your age. I know I did.

Her mother smacked him lightly on the stomach in a playful swat. Let me handle this, dear. She turned to Sappho and asked, Are you sure? Sometimes we feel one way as kids, and then we grow up and feel differently.

No,. it hasn’t changed. I haven’t changed. She turned to them both and begged, Father, let me be like Artemis, please! I cannot marry a man.

A bride cannot make sons without a groom, my girl, he replied awkwardly, still trying to use humor to mask his discomfort.

I don’t need sons. I don’t need—a wedding. And she wept anew, realizing that without a husband, she would never be a bride.

Through her tears, she could hear her father shuffling his feet in the hay on the floor of the stables and making sounds of distress.

Hon, this is girl-talk stuff. Go back to the wedding. We’ll be back inside in a minute. Her mother made a gentle shooing gesture.

He held up his hands in surrender. I think you’re right, Kleis. He returned his attention to Sappho and gave her an affectionate pat on the head. Sappho, my girl, I’m sorry you’re sad. But I love you. I’ll see you inside.

Her mother waited for him to leave before she resumed the conversation. Sappho, love?

She snuffed back a sob. Yes, mother?

The horses—in the springtime. You know what they do?

." She nodded in embarrassment.

"And you know that stallions are with