House of the Waterlily by Kelli Carmean

Author:Kelli Carmean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Berghahn Books
Published: 2017-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

We were clean then, much cleaner than now. Back then, I entered the sweat bath each day with my mother and older sisters and the other Waterlily women. It was our custom to bathe our persons before dressing to take our evening repast. Moonlight and torchlight glinted from the still surface of our pleasure pool, and fragrant floral bundles were arranged wherever our gaze may alight.

The sweat bath was a series of low rooms that ran along the short back edge of our courtyard. We had the luxury of morning slumber until our chambers grew so warm that even the most vigorous fanning by our fan servants could not keep us from sweating. Only then did we emerge. Cool, sweetened water was soon brought, and we would drink and wake while lounging in the shade of the awnings. We chatted and nibbled a few morsels, and then, after our body servants dressed us for the day, we went to study or read or to practice our chosen arts, or to stroll or stride or confer in regard to the endless matters that required our attention. After the sun passed its zenith, we would again nibble a few morsels and nap in the shade. Then, upon waking anew, we would proceed to the sweat bath.

As we entered its antechamber, we dropped our day huipils on the floor and entered unclothed through a low passage. An attendant opened and shut the low wooden door to keep the steam trapped inside. As we women sat in our rooms, so men sat in adjacent rooms. We could hear their muted voices in idle conversation.

Water tipped over hot rocks gave off a delightful hiss as vapor swirled in the dim air. Chanting, we tossed fresh herbs on the rocks, and soon the air was infused with a soothing, curative, purifying aroma. We would fill our lungs with curative air. You see, our sweat baths were not only for cleansing our persons but for cleansing our spirits as well.

Once we had basked and lounged and let the cares of the day melt from our persons, our massage servants entered and began their work. They rubbed our muscles until they relaxed, scraped sweat from our skin with a hard cut reed to extract the impurities from our pores, and shampooed our scalps with a soothing fragrant unguent concocted from ferns, then soaked our tresses with nutritious palm oil until our hair gleamed. They did this gladly, our servants, as it was in everyone’s interest that our royal persons remain hale and hearty, as well as exquisite in appearance for our public spectacles.

By the time we departed the steam room and returned to the antechamber, our soiled day huipils were gone, and upon the bench lay fresh, formal fine-spun huipils, ready for the evening ahead.

There was an antechamber on the men’s side as well. It was larger, however, because not only did they find their soiled day attire removed and their fresh evening finery on the bench after their bathing was finished, but they were also greeted by the palace concubines.

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