Chapter Thirty-Five
The agony I felt was worse than any beating I had received from Morsimus.
It was as though every one of my ribs had broken and the jagged shards of bone sank inward to my heart with each breath.
But the pain was not from loss alone. I had known this would happen.
I had told Phile it would. The pain was from guilt too, for we should have acted.
As I stood in the courtyard, my emotions shifted from devastation to anger. Fury burned my veins. Pushing Damaris aside, I strode toward Phile.
“You. This is on you.”
“Otrera. You are hurting. We are all hurting.”
“I told you we could end this. I told you we could end this all. We should have killed him. We should have killed all the husbands before it came to this.”
“It is not that simple—”
“Yes! Yes, it is! They are killing us. If not our bodies then our souls. One by one, the husbands of this village are destroying everything we are. But we can stop this. We can stop it from ever happening again if we stand together.”
Phile straightened her back, the curve in her spine disappearing as she stood far taller than I believed she could.
“You would have these women become murderers, Otrera?” She shook her head. “No. I will not do that. I will not have blood on my hands or on theirs.”
“We are not murderers if we kill to survive,” I insisted.
“We are still alive, Otrera.”
“No! No, we are not! Eleni did not survive. Juara did not survive. Chrysothea’s child did not survive. More and more of us will be lost this way unless we do something.”
I was shouting at my employer, my friend, and my lifeline. But I could not stop.
“Your heroes,” I spat at her. “Your precious heroes with whom you wish to roam in the afterlife, how many of them have blood on their hands? You think they reached Elysium by waiting? By allowing fate to take its course? No, they defended the weak, and they took whichever lives they had to. You want to be a hero? This is the only way you will get there. Believe me, Phile, if you don’t, then all this”—I drew my hand in a large arc around the women and tannery—“everything you have tried to make of your life will be worth nothing, for by doing nothing, you will have condemned us all to death. Every one of us will die at the hands of our men. That will be your legacy.”
My chest heaved, and though I wished for nothing more than to tumble to the ground, I remained standing, my eyes blazing. I had admired Phile, loved her, but I could follow her no more.
“I will stand with you,” Damaris said and moved beside me. “They are all responsible. They all turn a blind eye. They all beat and rape. I stand with you.”
“As do I.” Althea stepped forward. “I have found freedom from a tyrant husband. You all deserve such freedom.”
My eyes went to Iphinone. In order to persuade the other women who knew me less well, I would need to have my friends stand by me.
“I have no husband, but I am with you,” she said.
“My daughters need protection from these monsters,” Halysia said next. “If I can save them from a future like mine, I must.”
One by one, women took their places beside me until soon, only a few remained. Among those were Dolos and Thalassa: the oldest and one of the youngest. I aimed my words at the one I believed would be easiest to persuade first.
“Dolos. You have seen so many deaths here. How can you believe it is right to stand aside and let this happen again?”
“Because more death does not make the world right, Otrera. You are so young. You have seen so little of life. Phile has created something special for us here. A sanctuary. And your actions will ruin that. Even your talk threatens to ruin that.”
“No, my actions will make us free,” I said.
“Imagine no longer hearing the screams at night or knowing that each time you step across the threshold of your home, it could be your last. Imagine never having to hear a friend has lost a baby or been beaten to within an inch of her life. I might be young, but that does not mean I am blind to the injustices that we have to face.”
“And what of the boys?” Glykeria was also yet to be persuaded. “My son, Kakos, will be of marrying age soon. You wish for me to bring a knife to his throat now that he is soon to be a husband?”
“No.” I recoiled at such a thought. “Your sons are innocent. They have not yet harmed a woman. But can you say the same of your husband? We are doing this to protect the innocent, Glykeria. The innocent women and the children.” Her eyes avoided mine, and I knew I was coming close.
A little more persuasion and she would be there.
I shifted my gaze from Glykeria back to Thalassa.
She was barely more than a girl, younger than me even, so I spoke to her with a softened voice as if to a child, not to a woman who had birthed three children of her own.
“Thalassa, you are afraid. I understand that. Of course you are. But you have seen what has happened here. It will happen again.”
“But Xanthus loves me.”
“Thalassa, he beats you. He burns you. We have all seen the marks on your skin. You cannot believe a man who does such things has any place here.”
“He is not all bad. He loses his temper. Often I am to blame. I break things. I am clumsy in the home. He gets upset. That is all.”
I could hear no more. I strode forward and pulled down the shoulder of her robe, exposing her left side. The skin there was puckered and raw, while the burn oozed pus into darker, older scars. Most women would have winced at such a sight, yet it was all too familiar to us.
“Would you ever see Hirtus do such a thing to Phile?” I spat at her. “No, you know you would not. This is not what love is.”
“Xanthus is different. It does not mean he does not love me.”
“Really? Would you ever do such a thing to your child?”
“No, never.” She gasped as if I had just slapped her.
“What will you do when he does?”
Her face hardened. I was pushing her, but I needed to. I needed her to see that her actions affected more than just herself.
“He would never do such a thing.”
“Why not? What about when one of them breaks something? When one spills something? You are the mother of his children. You bring money to his home, yet he beats you. He says he loves you, yet he makes you suffer. Why would it be any different with your children?”
Tears dripped down Thalassa’s cheeks as she pulled her robe up to cover her shoulder.
“I love him.”
“No, you love the idea of him. You cannot love a man who does that to you. You cannot truly love someone you fear. Just like he cannot love someone he abuses.”
Thalassa bowed her head. There were no more protests she could give me, that anyone could give me. Lifting my arms, I looked at Phile.
“Will you support us? We cannot do this without you, without your promise that these women will still have employment with you, even after the deeds have been done.”
Silence followed my question. Silence that grew and grew as Phile chewed on that same thumbnail, now bitten to the quick. She drew in a deep breath.
“I wanted to build a place better than the rest of our lands. A place where women felt protected, valued, listened to. I wanted to listen. And if this is what you want, then I hear you. We will do this. We will do this, Otrera, but know there will likely be consequences. Not from me but from the gods. They will be watching this, and they will judge.”