Chapter Three
“The city is alive, full of promise and hope.” Ariston’s voice was low, meant for the boy taking in the comings and goings of the busy market place. “There is work still to be done, to return Athens to glory. Each citizen must aid in her growth, and protection.”
The boy shifted on the bench, turning this way and that as some new diversion entered the marketplace. “Protection? From another invasion?”
He shook his head. The boy had no reason to fear invasion. But he was old enough to learn more about the way of this world. “No, not now. Greece is fueled by outrage, none would dare attempt such a thing now.” He winked at the boy, nodding at him. “You’ve a keen mind. I see you watching, listening to the lady Xenia and her guests.”
Spiridion looked nervous. “I’m sorry-”
“Do not be,” Ariston leaned against the wall at their back. “Tell me, what have you
learned?”
“Farming.” He glanced at Ariston, who nodded his encouragement. “The weather has turned, growing colder.”
“And?” Ariston asked.
“I heard on elder say food stores were short.”
“What have they proposed to do about it?” Ariston asked.
“Offer the Gods more tributes,” the boy said.
Ariston shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He smiled when Spiridion did as he. “What say you to this idea?”
Spiridion looked at him. “It is right, to ask the Gods for help.”
Ariston nodded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“But should they not seek new fields?” Spiridion asked. “Or barter with those beyond our borders? Lady Xenia says we have many allies-”
Ariston laughed.
Spiridion smiled.
“A keen mind.” Ariston shook his head, sighing. “Yes, Spiridion, that is what they should do. But will they? We shall see.”
“Why are the crops dying, Ariston?”
“I have no answer.” He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Greece is a fertile land. To hear it withers away, not just Athens but all across our fair country, is troubling. That the sun hides…”
“Have we offended the Gods?” Spiridion asked.
“Take care,” he murmured. “I fear they are easy to offend. That our fates are so intertwined with those with the temperament of a babe-” he bit off, glancing at the boy. “Live well, Spiridion. Be an honorable man, and the Gods will never turn from you.” He tasted the bitterness of his words but knew tainting this boy against the Gods would likely damn him for life. No matter how he reviled the Olympians, Ariston wished this boy could live ever in their favor. He was smart, his frame promised he’d grow tall and strong. He would serve Greece well.
The boy looked thoughtful. “When will we go home, Ariston? To Rhodes?”
“Or I may sail, with Elpis, to Rhodes and wait for you there?” Medusa’s voice, her bright eyes appeared before him. They stood, tangled together on their beach, preparing for the parting they knew they’d face. They’d thought it was only the Persians that separated them. If he’d known it was Olympus itself, he would never have sailed away from her. His own words echoed in his ears, “I am favored by the Gods, my lady, to have you.”
“As I am, to have you as my lord and husband.” She’d answered, her love as real as the air he pulled into his lungs. He could feel her velvet fingertips brush along his jaw. Oh to capture her hand, to anchor it against him…
He pressed his hands together, fighting the roar that rose in his throat.
“Ariston?” Spiridion asked.
He’d grown used to the pain. It was his constant companion. But not to think of her, to let her fade, was worse. He could not lose her again. He welcomed the pain. It was work, living and breathing each day. But he did so for her, for this boy that she’d loved and asked him to care for. He cleared his throat. “You’ve had enough of Athens already?”
Spiridion shrugged. “I’m curious to see Rhodes.”
Ariston cocked a brow. “Are you?”
“Medusa…” He glanced nervously at Ariston.
He nodded. While he wanted none of Xenia’s entreaties to move on and live without his love, he hungered to hear of Medusa. To know what she’d said and done in the time they were apart eased him somehow.
“Medusa spoke of Rhodes.” The boy’s smile wavered. “She said it would be the most beautiful of all Greece’s isles. That the people were kind and just.”
Ariston swallowed. “She said that?” He smiled, shaking his head. “She’s never been-”
“She said she knew it had to be.” Spiridion did smile then. “Because you were born there.”
Ariston felt tears sting his eyes then, and turned to stare into the sun. My lady, my lady, I miss you.
“I miss her,” Spiridion echoed his thoughts.
“As do I,” he agreed, hating the thickness of his voice. His hand gripped the carved owl he wore round his neck, rubbing his thumb along its smooth back.
“You wear her necklace,” Spiridion spoke.
Ariston glanced at the boy then. The necklace had been taken from her long before she’d found Kore and Spiridion.
“She would reach for it, as you do.” The boy pointed at the carved wooden owl. “I asked her why she did that, reach for her neck, then press her hand against her chest.”
“What did she say?”
Spiridion shook his head.
“What is it?” Ariston asked, frustrated by the boy’s denial.
Spiridion’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I may be a boy, but I will not weep in the market.”
Ariston felt a smile pull at his lips. “You’ve the makings of a fine man, Spiridion of Athens.”
“Soon to be of Rhodes.” Spiridion smiled at him. “I am glad you will be my father.”
The boys’ words felt like manacles about him. He could not give this boy what he needed, what his own father had given him in his youth. He was a shell of a man, he knew it was true. “I can never replace your father, Spiridion. I would never try. What was his name?”
“Kephas. My mother was called Hemera.”
“Good names. He was a herder?”
“He was. As his father before him. Our herd was large once,” he sounded sad. “So few were left. But I knew Kore needed milk. If I lost the others, it would be no matter.”
“Yet you managed to keep a sizable herd, while caring for your sister.” He looked at Spiridion, impressed anew. “I’m sorry you had to leave them.”
“What will I do on Rhodes? Do you have goats?”
“We do. But we have herders as well… though I’m sure they’d welcome your assistance now and then.” He smiled. “My father, his people, my family… they will all welcome you home, Spiridion. Some days you will feel as if you’ve too many fathers.”
Spiridion grinned. “And mothers?”
“And mothers,” Ariston nodded. “I have four sisters.”
“Four?” Spiridion’s eyes went round.
Ariston laughed. “You see why I left?”
Spiridion nodded. “Younger?”
Ariston nodded, still smiling. “In truth, they are, all of them, good people. My father is young and hearty, a man of intelligence and patience. My mother, Lady Sarra, is fond of laughter, and she has a glorious laugh.”
“What is your father’s name?”
“Antonis.”
“Does he look like you?” Spridion’s gaze was traveling over him, inspecting him.
“I’ve been told I have my mother’s eyes… and her mouth. The rest is my father.”
Spiridion nodded.
“My uncle is-”
“Themosticles,” Spiridion nodded, smiling once more. “She spoke of you often.”
His heart swelled. “Her sisters were less pleased by this, I’m sure.”
Spiridion shrugged. “It was hard to tell. Even when a Gorgon is smiling, they appear to scowl.”
&n
bsp; The boy’s jest was so surprising that Ariston laughed.
Spiridion did as well, his face alight with boyish charm and beauty.
Ariston draped his arm around the boys’ shoulders. “You shall go to Rhodes soon, but not too soon. Let us wait until Kore is steady on her legs or we’d worry over her falling into the sea.”
Spiridion nodded. “That is wise.”