Just Myrto Read Free

Aristides implored. “Who would take her without a dowry? It would take years to scrimp and save a reasonable sum. By then she’ll be well into her twenties or thirties!”
    â€œIt’s true I have no riches to offer with her,” Father said sadly, shaking his head. “Aristides the Just was a brave soldier and much beloved statesman, but he never accepted wealth in exchange for serving Athens. I have given you his name and done my best to educate you in good citizenship, but I leave you little more than he left me.”
    â€œFather, what would you have me do?” asked Aristides.
    â€œI have no answers,” Father admitted. “Talk to Socrates, your boyhood teacher. The Oracle once declared him the wisest man alive. Ask Socrates.”
    And with that Apollo released the arrow that ended our father’s life. I felt the warmth escape his body as I bathed him in rose water. I dressed him in his most festive white tunic and wound a crown of wooden ribbon and ivy around his forehead. I removed an obol from his coin purse and placed it in his mouth to pay the ferryman for the journey across the rivers Styx and Acheron intothe Underworld. I prayed that Hermes would deliver Father safely to Hades to be reunited with his own more renowned father, Aristides the Just.
    When Apollodorus arrived later that evening, he and Aristides laid Father out on a couch in the front courtyard. “Face him toward the door to greet the mourners,” instructed Aristides.
    Apollodorus complied. “Don’t forget to set out the purifying water, Myrto,” he said.
    â€œI will do that now,” I replied. I selected a tall earthen vase and placed it in front of our house. Then I grabbed two large buckets and walked to the river. By sunup the house would be full of mourners dressed in black for the gloomy vigil. Friends and relatives alike would moan and weep loudly as they entered. As they left the house, they would all sprinkle water on themselves to wash death from their bodies.
    The cool night air filled my mind with questions.
What will become of me now? Will Aristides find me a suitable husband?
Other brothers might consider selling a sister who had no dowry into slavery, but surely Aristides would honor Father’s dying wish to find me a husband.
Socrates will know the best way for Aristides to find me a husband.
I prayed to Athena that she would grant both Aristides and Socrates wisdom.
    When I returned Aristides and Apollodorus were sitting in the courtyard. “Father is to be buried along the Street of Tombs next to our grandfather, Aristides the Just,” said Aristides.
    Apollodorus nodded. “He will need a tombstone.”
    â€œI’ve already made the necessary arrangements,” replied Aristides.
    â€œAnd the inscription?” asked Apollodorus.
    â€œLysimachus, son of Aristides the Just, farewell.”
    Tears filled my eyes. I carried a lamp back into my bedroom where I let down my long dark braids.
How long my hair has grown in six years.
I ran my fingers through the thick strands.
How well I remember the one and only night I cut it.
I sat fiercely brushing the memory of Mother’s death out of my head. Then using a razor, for the second time in my life, I severed every flowing strand of hair in mourning.

2
    O NE MORNING NOT long after Father’s funeral, I awoke to see Aristides sitting beside the statue of Hermes in our courtyard. One of my earliest memories as a child was of Aristides sitting in that exact spot waiting for Socrates to arrive. Normally, Aristides would go to the Agora to find Socrates, but on this occasion, Father had invited Socrates to our home. Aristides sat poised with his wax-covered, wooden tablet and a narrow bone, chiseled to a point, desperate to write something that he could memorize and recite to please our father. Socrates engaged Aristides in a conversation that lasted all morning, but he never instructed Aristides to write a