Chapter 7
Offerings
They set out at dawn. A cool breeze brushed their cheeks, and the ripe scent of fish wafted from the basket rocking between them.
Danae stole a glance at her mother. Eleni looked as terrible as she felt, her eyes bloodshot, ringed by puckered purple skin.
It had been three weeks since Arius’s arrival, and none of them had slept for more than a couple of hours at a time.
Despite being such a small creature, his lungs were like a pair of hunting horns.
Alea had lost so much blood during the birth, she barely had the strength to nurse him, her milk drying by the day.
It took all Danae’s resolve not to break at the sight of her sister, withering with each turn of the sun.
“What do you think he’ll give us?”
Her mother glanced down at the basket of scaly bodies. “I don’t know,” she said tersely. “As long as we get enough for Alea, that’s all that matters.”
“She needs meat,” Eleni had said before they left the hut.
They’d already been forced to sell the goats to a family from a village on the far side of the island, but they still barely had enough coin for grain.
So, her mother had taken a portion of Odell’s morning catch and was hoping Myron, the butcher, would be willing to trade.
They did not speak again until they reached the village.
The square was quiet. Only a couple of awnings were out, unfurled by early-rising shopkeepers.
Her mother quickened her pace toward the butcher’s hut, and Danae had to stride to keep up.
Eleni had insisted they visit the butcher before his stall opened, as their family had been banned from doing business in the village, and Myron was unlikely to trade with them under the hateful eyes of his other customers.
Her mother raised a fist and rapped quickly on the butcher’s door. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Myron peered out, his face still crumpled with sleep. Before he could speak, Eleni grabbed the basket of fish from Danae and proffered it to him.
“We have no coin, but we need meat. Goat, chicken, whatever you can trade us.”
The butcher’s gaze slid from their faces to the square beyond.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.
“Myron,” Eleni’s voice trembled, “my daughter is near death, and her child will starve if she does not recover. If you have a bone of compassion in your body, please...help us.”
Danae felt as though there was a fist around her throat as Myron twisted his hands, his eyes darting everywhere except their faces.
Finally, his shoulders sagged. “All right.” He took the fish. “Wait here.”
As he disappeared back inside his hut, there was a burst of laughter behind them. Danae turned. Three farmhands, likely on their way to the inland fields, were crossing the square. One of them shouted, “Give your whore sister a kiss from me!”
In a heartbeat she was pacing toward them.
“My sister is not a whore.”
“That’s not what Davos says,” the boy sneered. “He said he had her for a stale lump of bread.” He laughed again. “She couldn’t wait to open her legs.”
“Liar!” Flames of fury licked over Danae’s skin. Her mother was calling her name, but she paid no heed as she planted both hands on his chest and shoved. The lad stumbled back, then a nasty grin spread over his face.
“Want some too, do you?”
He lunged for her. But Danae was quicker and dodged out of his way.
The farmhand might have the physical advantage, but she had years of brawling with her tall, strong brothers in her arsenal.
And she had rage. She pivoted, throwing all her weight behind her fist, and punched him square in the face.
His nose cracked, spraying them both in a shower of ruby droplets.
She roared and hit him again, thumping his flesh with her fists, elbows, knees.
It took both the other two farmhands to drag her off him and throw her bodily to the ground.
The boy lay on his back, whimpering through broken teeth.
“Get away from her!” Eleni’s voice rolled like a tidal wave across the square.
The boys rounding on Danae backed away as her mother advanced, holding a leg of cloth-wrapped goat meat like a club.
“Animal,” one of them spat at Danae as they helped their battered friend to his feet.
Eleni grabbed Danae by the scruff of her tunic and yanked her up. It was only then she noticed how many people had come out of their huts. Some were holding sticks. A couple had knives. She stumbled as her mother pulled her into a run. She did not look back.
As they sprinted back along the coastal path, she was suddenly aware of the intense throbbing in her hand. She glanced down and saw the skin had split across her knuckles.
Her mother would not slow until they reached the path leading up to their hut. Danae finally braved a glance at her. The anger she’d felt in the square paled in comparison to the rage radiating from her mother.
“Ma—”
“No.” Eleni’s voice was an iron blade. “You do not get to speak.”
She knew she would pay dearly for what she’d done, and it was unlikely Myron would help them again. But even as her hands trembled and her body ached, she did not regret it. After everything that had happened to her family, it had been worth it—even just for a moment—to feel powerful.
The earth bloomed. Petals fell to make way for ripening fruit, and the sun began its descent in the sky, arcing lower with each passing day.
As the glaring brightness of summer melted into the deep reds, yellows and browns of autumn, Alea regained her strength.
Slowly, color returned to her cheeks, and the hollow caverns of her body filled and softened.
Danae could not say which day it was, only that one morning she looked at her sister and realized the fear that woke her each dawn was gone.
Alea would not leave them for the Underworld, not yet.
“You promised me, as soon as he was old enough, you would take him to the temple.” Arius gurgled happily and grasped a fistful of Alea’s hair. She winced and attempted to free the captured strands. “It’s been six months!”
“Exactly, only six months.” Danae pummeled a lump of dough with her fists. Her promise had been made in a moment of sleep-deprived weakness and she had hoped Alea would forget about it.
“Why don’t you want to take him?”
Danae reached into a pot of flour and dusted the table. “I’ve told you before, after what the Maenad Ariadne told me, I think we should stay away from the temple.” She glanced into the yard, where her mother was sweeping out the old goat pen. She could have done with Eleni’s support.
“You’re not still worried about the shade? Danae, that was months ago, surely it will have gone away by now.”
Scarlet eyes peering through the hut window were seared across her memory. She opened her mouth to speak, but fear stilled her tongue.
“The timing is perfect,” continued Alea. “You can take our offerings for the Thesmophoria and bring Arius to receive Demeter’s blessing.”
She sighed. “Alea, please—”
“Don’t you love your nephew? Don’t you want to protect him from Hera’s wrath?”
“Shh,” Danae hissed.
Alea set her jaw. “His father will surely come to visit him soon, which will reveal everything. If he is under Demeter’s protection, she—” Alea glanced skyward “—is less likely to harm him.”
“He’s safe here, at home. Gods know what might happen to him out there.” Danae flung flour across the room as she gestured. “You’ve not been out of this hut. You don’t know what it’s been like for me and Ma—”
“At least I’m not starting fights!”
“I was defending you!”
“Enough!” Their mother stepped through the doorway. “I am sick to the back teeth of this endless bickering.” She turned to Alea. “You must calm yourself—it’s not good for you.”
Danae poured her frustration into the dough and hurled it onto the table with a vigorous slap.
Her mother took Arius from her sister. “You should rest.”
“I’m fine.”
They all knew that was a lie. As she looked at her sister, Danae felt a stab of guilt. Though stronger than she was in the first weeks, Alea hadn’t been the same since the birth. She tired easily and barely had any strength. Arguing like they were would cost her.
Danae sighed. “I’ll take him tomorrow with the offerings and entreat Demeter to bless him.”
She half expected her mother to tell her that she would do no such thing, but Eleni nodded sagely.
“It is only right, Demeter returned Alea to us after all.”
Her sister’s pale face lit up. She smiled at her mother then looked to Danae.
“Thank you.”
Alea’s fears might be placated. But taking Arius away from the safety of the hut meant facing her own.
The sky was a deep hyacinth blush, but the chill of night still lingered in the air. Danae was glad. The summer heat had remained longer this year, and when the sun crested the horizon, it wouldn’t be long before the earth was baking.
She pushed open the yard gate. Arius was strapped to her chest, a full bag of cheeses and a loaf of bread slung over her shoulder.
There was at least a week’s worth of food in her pack, far less than her family had offered at the previous year’s Thesmophoria, but still more than they could spare.
She ground the resentment between her teeth.
By the time they reached the tree-lined path that led through the valley, a hazy heat had settled over the land.
Danae tugged the cloth of Arius’s swaddling over his head, shading him from the sun’s glare.
They would most likely have to shelter in the temple for the hottest part of the day before returning home.
She sighed at the thought of spending hours trapped under the scrutiny of the priestesses.