Chapter 3 #2
Philemon’s mother clapped her hands, and a boy in a loincloth scampered out from one of the rooms. Danae glanced at Alea. It was rare for a merchant to be able to afford a slave. Thaddeus’s business must be doing very well indeed.
“Bring wine.”
“Oh, just water for us. Thank you,” Danae’s mother said quickly before the boy could leave.
Philemon’s mother sighed. “Bring both.” She threw them another languid smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yes, sorry to surprise you like this. I was hoping to speak to your husband.”
“He’s out. He and Philemon might be home soon...or not. You never can tell with Thaddeus.”
The boy returned, and Philemon’s mother took a cup of wine from the tray, immediately raising it to her lips.
Danae looked up at the olives. Their green skins were so shiny they looked like they might burst. Her hands worried the edge of her tunic. No one was saying anything.
“How do you make olive oil?” she blurted into the silence.
“Danae,” her mother hissed as she passed a cup of water to Alea.
“What? I’m just making conversation.”
She was spared further reprimand by the front door opening.
Thaddeus and Philemon entered the garden.
Philemon’s face shone when he saw Alea, his eyes never leaving his intended.
Danae’s heart twinged. He really did seem to care for her sister.
Gods, she hoped their mother could persuade Thaddeus to bring the marriage forward.
Danae’s mother rose to her feet. “Sorry to impose on you unannounced, but—”
“Where is Odell?” Thaddeus interrupted.
“He’s fishing. It’s a very busy time for him. He wishes he could be here.”
Thaddeus sat heavily next to his wife while Philemon pulled up a stool next to Alea.
“Go on then. What is it?”
Danae’s mother smoothed the skirt of her dress. “After everything that’s happened, we feel that these two young people shouldn’t be made to wait any longer. Demeter herself returned Alea to us, and we want to honor that by bringing the wedding forward to the month of ploughing.”
Philemon looked excitedly at his father. There was a tense pause before Thaddeus laughed. It was not pleasant.
“You do remember who’s paying for this damned wedding?”
Eleni’s lips tightened. “Odell is contributing what he can.”
“A pittance,” Thaddeus spat. His wife flinched. “We agreed, the month of the goddess. All the arrangements have been made. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to bring the preparations forward?”
“We’re happy to scale back the celebrations if it means—”
“Scale back? My only son is not getting married in some peasant ceremony. That might be what you’re used to, but by the gods my family is not.” Thaddeus’s gaze slid to Alea. “Why the sudden rush?”
Alea looked like she was melting under his scrutiny. Danae’s pulse quickened. She could see the perspiration beading on her sister’s brow.
“Like I said,” her mother dived in, “we believe we would be honoring Demeter by marrying the pair as soon as possible. The goddess, in her mercy, returned Alea to us so that she and Philemon could be together and—”
Silently, as though kissed with sleep by a mischievous god, Alea crumpled.
Philemon lunged, catching her as she slumped forward and Danae fell to her knees beside her sister, the luscious grass staining her skirt. Alea was pale as stone.
“Boy!” Thaddeus shouted. “Send for the healer.”
“No.” Eleni jumped to her feet. “She just fainted, she’ll be fine in a moment.”
“Give her some wine,” said Philemon’s mother.
Thaddeus ignored them as the boy entered the garden. “Fetch Iatromea, now.”
“Really, Thaddeus, please don’t go to any bother, you know what women are like, she’s just overcome with excitement about the marriage.”
There was panic in Eleni’s voice. As the village healer, Iatromea had delivered countless children, including Danae and her sister. They couldn’t let her near Alea in her condition, especially not in the home of her intended.
Thaddeus turned to her mother with a glint in his eye. “She’s my future daughter-in-law. I’m not leaving anything to chance.”
“Wider.” Iatromea prodded Alea’s tongue with a gnarled finger.
Alea stretched her mouth so the healer could peer inside. Danae glanced at her mother. Eleni was staring at the back of Iatromea’s head as though she might be able to see the woman’s thoughts if she just looked hard enough.
Philemon sat next to Alea on the bench. He hadn’t let go of her hand. It would have been a touching scene, if it weren’t for the secret growing in Alea’s stomach.
“Well?” Thaddeus said impatiently. “What’s wrong with her?”
Iatromea grumbled something incomprehensible, then proceeded to prod and poke Alea in various places. Once satisfied with her examination, she straightened up.
“Heat exhaustion.”
“There,” her mother’s voice was light with relief. “Didn’t I say? Nothing to worry about.”
“Women,” grumbled Thaddeus.
“Father.” Philemon rose to his feet. He was trembling.
Danae noticed his knuckles had turned white as he clung to Alea’s hand.
“I too wish for the wedding to be brought forward. It was the worst time of my life when Alea was gone—” he glanced down at his intended and swallowed “—and I don’t want to waste another moment.
” He raised his head and looked his father dead in the eye.
Danae thought this might be the bravest thing Philemon had ever done.
Thaddeus stared at him as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. Philemon stood firm, like a hardy blade of grass against the withering heat of the sun.
“I... I am a man now, and it is my right to marry when I wish.”
There was silence as Thaddeus considered his son. Danae held her breath.
Then Thaddeus let out a booming laugh. “It is good for a man to speak his mind. And yes, you are a man now. To get anywhere in life you must go after what you want and not give up until it’s between your teeth.
” He slapped Philemon on the shoulder. “All right then, you shall have your wedding in the month of ploughing.”
Philemon looked so shocked that Danae wondered if he too was going to faint.
“Oh, Thaddeus, thank you—” Eleni began, but he interrupted her.
“There, you got what you wanted. Now—” he gestured toward the door “—I’m a very busy man.”
“Yes, of course.” Eleni took both her daughters’ hands and backed away. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”
Iatromea coughed.
Thaddeus grunted and shouted for the boy to fetch his purse.
“No, we’ll pay, I insist.”
Danae looked at her mother, brow furrowed. Thaddeus was infinitely wealthier than they were. He probably wouldn’t even notice the missing coin, whereas paying the healer would mean no bread for her family for a week.
Philemon showed them out, still flushed from standing up to his father. He waved them out into the heat of the day and shut the door.
Danae slipped an arm around Alea’s waist as their mother turned to the old healer.
“How much do I owe you?”
An unpleasant smile hooked the corners of Iatromea’s mouth. “Five obols.”
Eleni balked. The healer’s eyes slid past her to rest on Alea’s stomach.
Danae’s blood ran cold. She knew. She’d known all along.
Her mother’s lips turned white as she pressed them together and rooted around in her purse. She drew out two obols.
“It’s all I have on me. But you will receive the rest tomorrow.”
Iatromea snatched the coins. “By sundown.” She threw a contemptuous glance at Alea, then shuffled off down the dusty road.
“Ma?” Alea said in a trembling voice.
“It’s all right,” Eleni said quickly as she ushered the girls away from the house. “I’ll take care of it.”
They began to walk back through the village.
“I’m sorry,” Alea said so softly it was barely audible.
“It’s not your fault. These things can happen early in a pregnancy. I should have gone on my own.”
Danae watched Alea with an iron weight in her stomach. Intuiting her sister’s mind used to come as naturally as breathing. Now she felt like a stranger. She was slipping away, and Danae didn’t know why.
Her gaze trailed over the large, sun-bleached houses to her left and lingered on one with blue-painted shutters.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that their mother’s plan had worked.
Perhaps her sister would end up living in a house like one of these, with her own courtyard garden and an apple tree in the center.
Apples were Alea’s favorite. Danae smiled.
She’d sneak out to Timon’s orchard when they got home and bring her sister back a skirt-full.
She stopped walking. In the shadowy gap between two of the houses was a pair of red eyes, the same crimson orbs she’d seen at the Thesmophoria. The air around them seemed to ripple, as though the eyes were attached to a body that was somehow there and not there at the same time.
“Danae.” Her mother touched her arm and she blinked. The eyes were gone. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing,” she said as her mother pulled her away.
A couple of weeks after their visit to Thaddeus, Danae and Alea were lugging their family’s hydria along the dirt track to the village.
With each step the vase grew heavier. Danae readjusted her grip as the handle slipped between her moist fingers.
The midday sun was relentless. Normally, they would make the journey in the cool of morning, but Alea’s sickness had delayed them.
Before Alea’s disappearance, the sisters would chatter all the way to the well. But the gulf between them was widening, gorging itself each day on their silence. Danae could not shake the sense that there was something Alea was not telling her.
Sticky and irritable, they finally reached the square. After hefting the hydria across the last stretch of dirt and setting it down against the bricks of the well, together they heaved the heavy iron handle and hoisted the pail up from its watery depths.
A crash of broken pottery echoed from the far side of the square. Philemon and his father were standing outside the blacksmith’s hut, shattered fragments of an amphora scattered around Philemon’s feet, his sandals drenched with wine. He didn’t seem to notice. His red-rimmed eyes were fixed on Alea.
Behind them, Melia emerged from her husband’s hut. She’d halved in size since the death of her daughters, a grief-ravaged skeleton of the woman she’d once been. She staggered past Philemon and Thaddeus, her face twisted with hatred.
“You don’t deserve to be alive,” she shouted. “My beautiful daughters are gone but you are still here. Disgusting, depraved...” She collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Her husband ran forward and half dragged, half carried her back inside.
Danae couldn’t breathe. Melia knew.
Thaddeus seized Philemon by the scruff of his tunic and barked something in his ear before shoving his son in the direction of the sisters. By now, a crowd had gathered, waiting in rapt silence for the drama to unfold.
Watching Philemon walk across the square was agonizing. When he finally reached them, he looked like he was going to be sick. For the longest moment nobody moved. Then a peal of laughter rippled around the square. Anger flushed his cheeks.
“Philemon, I—” Alea began.
With as much violence as if he’d hit her, Philemon spat in Alea’s face.