Chapter 3
Ripe Fruit
Six weeks later, on her way out to feed the goats, Danae discovered Philemon dithering on the doorstep. He wore a new red tunic, trimmed with gold stitching. It didn’t suit him.
They exchanged the sacred greeting.
“I’ve come to see Alea.” Proudly, he held up a small, cloth-wrapped parcel.
Danae sighed inwardly. Philemon had visited every week since Alea’s return. She couldn’t bear the thought of another afternoon spent listening to his dull stories and was about to tell him her sister was resting and he should come back tomorrow, when her mother appeared behind her.
“Philemon,” Eleni beamed. “Just one moment. Danae, entertain our guest while I ready Alea.”
The door shut behind her, and Danae was left standing nose to nose with her sister’s intended. He backed away and picked at the wrappings of his present at a safe distance.
They stood in silence for a while. Danae crossed her arms and scoured her mind for something polite to say. She settled on gesturing to the package in his hand.
“What’s that then?”
Philemon’s face stretched into a satisfied grin as he tapped the side of his nose. “Ah, ah. I don’t want you ruining the surprise.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What I can tell you,” he conceded, “is that this is a very special gift, all the way from—”
“Athens?”
Philemon’s father owned a large olive grove and traded his produce in the city. From what she’d overheard of his conversations with Alea, Philemon endlessly went on about the latest fashion, the food and the superior culture. Apparently, even the air was sweeter in Athens.
A slight frown appeared between his brows.
“Yes, actually.” He drew himself up. “I was there only yesterday on very important business with my father. I wish I could take Alea to see the new Temple of Athena. It really is the most stunning building. Did you know it took ten years to complete? The friezes alone were...”
His words became a drone in her ears. What really irritated her wasn’t that he was boring, monopolized Alea’s time or turned into a gibbering jellyfish whenever his father was around, but that he got to go to the mainland.
When Danae was younger, she loved going out on her father’s boat and helping him sell his catch at Naxos Port.
But her mother put a stop to all that. Young women on Naxos didn’t leave their huts, except to do washing in the river and run errands in the village.
And they definitely didn’t get to go to Athens.
They were saved further interaction by her mother opening the door and ushering Philemon inside. Danae went to follow him, but Eleni stretched out an arm and blocked her way.
“Give them some privacy.” From behind her back she produced a broken wicker basket. “Make yourself useful and mend this.”
Danae took the basket and glowered at her. “You’re staying inside then?”
“Of course. I’m her mother.”
“Fine.”
She sat down next to the goats and began weaving the broken pieces of straw back into the lattice of the bowl. She finished long before Philemon reemerged, wearing a deeply irritating grin. As soon as he’d left the yard, she sprang to her feet and ran indoors.
Alea was sitting next to the hearth, her cheeks flushed, their mother busy pinning something to her tunic. As Danae moved closer, she saw it glint. It was a brooch. An owl molded in bronze with feathers carved into the metal and two little green gems for eyes.
Her sister gazed down at it, her face radiant.
“Danae, isn’t it beautiful? Have you ever seen such a lovely thing?”
“No,” she said honestly.
“Ma, don’t you agree?”
Danae glanced at her mother, expecting her to share Alea’s joy, but she looked distant.
“Ma?”
Eleni returned to the room and beamed at her eldest. “It’s stunning my love, a mark of the strength of his affection.”
As much as Danae disliked Philemon, she couldn’t help smiling.
Suddenly, Alea lurched off her chair and staggered toward the door. Danae ran after her to find her retching in the yard behind the goat pen.
She held Alea’s curls and rubbed her back.
“Should we send for the healer?” She glanced up at her mother, who had followed them out.
Eleni looked around, as though worried someone might see them.
“No,” she said through tight lips. “I know what’s wrong. Come back inside, quickly.”
Alea sat on the pallet, gazing at her lap, her eyes unfocused. Danae reached for her sister’s hand, but Alea twitched her fingers away.
Danae looked at her mother. “Are you sure?” she asked solemnly.
“I think so. I had the same sickness with all four of you children.” Eleni knelt beside her sister. “And, Alea, your monthly blood still hasn’t come.”
Whoever had done this to her sister deserved to have their genitals mutilated, and their limbs ripped from their body while they still breathed. Danae’s rage boiled over into tears. She turned away and quickly wiped her eyes. Alea wasn’t crying. If her sister could be strong, so could she.
“Alea, listen to me.” Her mother tucked a curl behind her sister’s ear. “This changes nothing. You will still marry Philemon.”
“How?” Alea’s voice was barely audible.
“We’ll go to Thaddeus and ask him to bring the wedding forward.
I’ll think of something to convince him.
Babies arrive early all the time, no one will know it isn’t Philemon’s.
” Her mother straightened up and crossed the room to the wicker chest at the foot of the girls’ pallet.
She began pulling out dresses. “Which one is his favorite again?”
“Will Thaddeus agree to it?” asked Danae.
“He’ll have to,” said her mother, inspecting a sky blue tunic.
“I don’t want to lie to him.”
Her mother lowered the dress.
Alea lifted her head, crystal clarity in her hazel eyes. “I don’t want to deceive Philemon. I want to tell him the truth and if he won’t have me any more—” her voice wavered “—then I’ll stay here.”
Danae felt a surge of love for her sister. Beautiful, noble Alea. She moved to stand next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll help Alea look after the baby. We could do it together.
” She imagined the two of them running across the beach, a chubby infant swinging between their arms. They could be their own little family, and neither of them would have to get married.
They could get by on selling cheese, and she could fish like her father.
Eleni’s eyes blazed. She dropped the dress and paced across the small room to grab Alea’s chin.
“Look at me. You must marry that boy.”
“Ma—” Danae began, but her mother rounded on her.
“Gods help me, Danae, you’re a woman now. You should know better. Your father and I can’t support you forever. How do you think you would live? We would be shunned, all of us.”
Danae pressed her lips together and bit down on the insides to stop them trembling.
Her mother smoothed her apron and sighed. “We’re going to get through this. But you must trust me, both of you.”
It was agreed that Danae, Alea and their mother would visit Thaddeus the following morning.
Her father should have been with them. But that night, when Odell returned home and her mother told him of Alea’s condition, he didn’t say a word.
Instead, he took himself off into the yard with a jug of wine he didn’t bother to mix with water.
The girls lay on their pallet and tried to ignore the clashing of their parents’ voices outside.
Alea faced the wall, her back to Danae.
“Are you afraid?”
There was a pause.
“No.”
“Good, because I’m going to be with you. For everything.”
“I know.”
Danae wondered how to articulate the thought that had gnawed at her since Alea’s return. It felt so large and tangled she didn’t know how to begin.
Eventually she said, “I know you don’t remember, and you don’t have to talk about it if anything does come back...but you can if you want to... I just... I want you to know that.”
More silence. Her bones felt heavy as she rolled over.
She closed her eyes, but even after her parents grew quiet and retreated inside, sleep ran from her like a shadow chased by the sun.
Danae stared at the large wooden door as her mother rapped the iron knocker.
She squeezed her sister’s hand, hoping to reassure her.
In the end, her mother had chosen the blue tunic for Alea.
She looked perfect, if a little pale. Her hair was elaborately coiled, the owl brooch proudly pinned to her chest. There hadn’t been much time for Danae after preparing her sister, so her mother had just wound a strip of fabric around her unruly mane and put her in one of Alea’s old green tunics.
Even dressed as they were, people were staring. Philemon and his family lived at the other end of the village, where the big houses were. They had separate rooms and proper wooden shutters. Danae was excited to see inside. She’d never been to a merchant’s house before.
The door opened. Philemon’s mother stood in the doorway. She was blond and willowy like her son. Her face was unnaturally pale, painted with white lead. It was a trend that had floated across the water from Athens. Fashionable or not, she looked half dead.
Philemon’s mother smiled dreamily and intoned the sacred greeting. “You’d better come in.” She stood back and wafted an arm toward the interior of the house.
Danae suppressed a gasp as she stepped inside.
The house was built around a small garden.
A large olive tree grew from a central patch of perfectly manicured grass, stretching up to the sky between an open square of terracotta tiles.
Stone pillars held up the roof and rooms sprouted from each side of the garden.
“You have a lovely home,” said Eleni.
Philemon’s mother breathed a soft “hmm” and beckoned them into the garden. They sat on benches beneath the olive tree, specks of sunlight sprinkled on their laps.