Chapter Fifty-Three
It was decided. All the young men and boys would leave with Hirtus at the start of the new moon—a mere nine days away.
All of those who had goatherded before were to go with him, but others would go as well.
Those who would have begun their goatherding that year or whose voices had begun to crack were to leave too. There were no exceptions.
I met opposition, women who did not believe that their sons should be punished for the acts of others, but they were few, and it was Glykeria who brought an end to their protests.
She had not spoken a single word to me since I sent her son to the underworld, yet when an argument broke out at the fountain, she was the one who spoke out.
“It is not punishment for them to grow up with integrity,” she said.
One single sentence silenced them all. The women dispersed, muttering quietly to one another, leaving Glykeria and me alone.
There were countless sentiments I could have offered her in that moment.
I could have thanked her; I could have apologized for what I had done to her son.
I could have simply asked after her health. Instead, I turned and left.
For two days, the young men remained in the houses, leaving only to fetch their food and relieve themselves. Always guarded. Always watched. Never was a single one allowed alone or given the slightest hint of freedom until Hirtus came knocking on my door.
“I need some of the young men to be released,” he said.
“That is not an option.” My response was immediate and impulsive, and Hirtus knew this.
“Otrera, it is not wise to keep them all imprisoned. It will make their anger against you fester.” His point was reasonable, but the one he spoke afterward struck me far more deeply.
“I must ensure the majority understand our cause before we leave Ninniya. For Phile’s sake and mine.
The two of us alone will not be enough to hold them if they turn against us. ”
Only then did I realize the risks that came with the commitment he made to me. All it would take was a single person with a sharp knife in the dead of night, and the young men would have no one to hold them in line. He needed more protection.
“Iphinone’s son, Ereas, is of a pure heart. Halysia’s and Trapezitai’s too. They are younger, but they can be trusted to stand with you,” I said.
“Yes, I had chosen those myself. But I will need more. Older ones.”
I knew of whom he spoke, but whether through stubbornness or hurt, I did not speak his name.
“Take whoever you wish,” I said. “But they go to your home alone. They cannot be allowed to traipse through the village unaccompanied. And I do not want to see hair or hide of him. Them,” I tried to correct myself quickly. “I do not want to see them.”
* * *
The morning they left, the sun was a vivid pink.
Its rays unfurled over the land, coloring the hills and sky the same ethereal hue, while in the distance, opaque clouds drifted lazily toward us.
I stood apart from the group and watched as the young men hugged their mothers and sisters, wiping their eyes and trying to disguise their fear.
Each was laden with bags, and I suspected Hirtus and Phile had emptied their stores to ensure this transition to their new life was as comfortable as possible.
“Your servants are to come with you?” I said to Phile, gesturing to the two men who now drew attention not because of their scars but because of their age.
“They say they wish to see the world,” Phile replied. “But in truth, I think they are afraid of you.”
She chuckled, though the laughter soon devolved into a throaty cough, and I could find no way to smile in response. Instead, I looked at her pleadingly.
“Phile, please reconsider. Stay with us for a few more moons at least. Perhaps your chest will ease. You will manage the journey better when you are stronger.”
“There is only one journey I am making, Otrera, but I promise I will make my trip there as slowly as possible.”
From across the way, Hirtus called out, and all but one of the young men heeded his command.
“I should join the others,” Phile said, offering me a final farewell before following the young men and leaving me alone with Cleon.
Somehow, those days without seeing him had deepened the intense color of his eyes and squared his jaw.
I recalled in that moment the first time I saw him.
The way he alone drew my attention. But now it was not merely mine he drew.
I could feel the eyes of the other women, watching us, waiting for my reaction. I would give them none.
“I have spoken to Hirtus,” Cleon said eventually. “He mentioned that perhaps, when several years have passed, we might return. Not to stay, just to visit. Only if it is agreeable to you, of course.”
“He said the same to me,” I replied.
Silence bloomed. Cleon’s hands twitched at his sides, pulling at the threads on his tunic.
“It was never my intention to hurt you, Otrera. That was the last thing I wanted. I hope you know that.” His gaze moved past me, not to the men or to anything else tangible.
Just away. Perhaps to the past. Perhaps to a future that would never be.
Either way, when he looked back, a light glimmered in his eyes.
“I would have been a good husband to you, Otrera, and I still could. I know we must do this now, for the good of all the people here, but when I return, in whatever manner that might be, I wonder if you would consider being my wife.”
After all the words I had spoken to him, the cruelty with which I had dismissed him, I could not fathom how he would make such an offer. Or how his voice continued to hold so much hope. Hope I needed to quash. And yet I could not.
“The future is a long way away, Cleon. Who knows who we will both be when you return?”
* * *
I could have walked with them for a while, as many women did.
Almost all those with sons, whose bodies were able, walked for half a day before they returned.
But I did not. There was work to be done.
Spring would soon be upon us, and it would be bountiful, but we needed to be wise with that bounty.
We needed to ensure that Phile’s legacy remained strong by hunting when the animals were abundant and fixing the homes while the weather was warm.
We needed to prepare our wares and decide how best to trade them now that we had lost Hirtus and his contacts with the merchants at the agoras.
There was much to do, yet that first morning when the heavy weight of rulership was placed upon my shoulders, I could not stay in the village.
A desire burned deep within me. A desire that I knew would not fade.
So I found Aina.
She had not joined the crowd to bid the men farewell but had said goodbye to Ereas in private so that she could retreat to her home.
Those first days after the Dionysia, I feared Aina would find comfort only in the shadows and the darkness.
I feared she would sink into herself the way I had seen so many do and become little more than a wraith with a beating heart.
But she could not. Because I needed her.
I did not knock but entered her home with confident strides.
“It is today,” I said.
“What is this?” She flinched, pain flashing on her face. But I would not let it settle.
“It is today,” I repeated.
“I know. I have made my farewell to Ereas already.”
“No, that is not what I mean. I mean, it is today.”
Confused, she sat up, and her face folded in consternation as she struggled to understand what game I was playing. Only when she saw my broad smile did she finally understand what I was saying, though I voiced it to prevent myself from backing out.
“Today is the day I ride Erebus.”