Just Myrto Read Free Page A

single word.
    Now when Socrates arrived, Aristides jumped to his feet and practically shouted, “Good morning, Socrates!”
    â€œGreetings, my young friend,” Socrates replied. “I offer you my most sincere condolences on the passing of your father.”
    Aristides nodded and ushered Socrates to a wooden couch in the courtyard. They continued to pay their respects to Father, speaking well of the life he had lived.
    Socrates looked exactly the same as a decade ago. Perhaps his gray beard was a bit longer, but his feet were still bare, and he wore the same weathered tunic. He was a curious old man, eyes full oflaughter and lips full of questions. Was he really the wisest man of all? He didn’t look at all like the judges and sophists I’d seen at Father’s funeral. They seemed to take themselves and their wisdom more seriously.
    I gathered a number of figs and dipped some crusty bread in wine for Aristides and Socrates to enjoy as they discussed my future. A pleasant taste in their mouths would surely result in a more pleasant life for me.
Please let them choose for me a husband who is kind. It is better to be slave to a kind master than the wife of a cruel husband.
    â€œSo this is Myrto.” Socrates smiled warmly as he said my name. I bowed my head and offered him the food I had prepared.
    â€œShe is already in her eighteenth year with no marriage prospects and no dowry,” Aristides lamented. “What would you do if she were your daughter, Socrates?”
    Socrates selected a fig. “Ah, but she is not my daughter, Aristides.”
    I could feel his eyes upon me, but I dared not let my eyes meet his. I placed the plate between them and backed away.
    â€œHave you someone in mind who might accept her if she had a dowry?”
    â€œNo. Most of my friends are already married or betrothed. Others have died in battle. My mother has a brother who was recently widowed. He might agree to marry her out of family duty and the hope of having another healthy son or two.”
    â€œThere you have it,” said Socrates. “A perfectly good solution.” He sampled a morsel of bread.
    A perfectly good solution indeed! It was Uncle’s abuse which fated our auntie to an early grave!
I stepped back into the salon and perched by an open window. My flesh quaked and my blood swirled. I feltconsumed by Poseidon himself.
Oh, Hera, goddess of marriage! Hear my prayer and intercede on my behalf. Anyone but Uncle!
    â€œI’m not so sure,” pondered Aristides. “If that is what Father had intended he could have arranged that himself or instructed me to do so.” Aristides reached over to the plate, grabbed a handful of figs and popped several in his mouth.
    â€œTrue enough,” agreed Socrates.
    â€œBut he did not,” Aristides continued, shaking his head and chewing slowly. Finally, he swallowed. “Father instructed me to talk to you.”
    Socrates smiled and helped himself to a large portion of the wine-soaked bread. “A rather strange instruction, don’t you think?” Socrates asked.
    â€œI do. After all, you never really taught me anything,” said Aristides. He furrowed his brow and stroked his shiny, black beard. “Still, when I was with you, I made tremendous progress in my education.”
    â€œYes,” mused Socrates. “I’ve often wondered how our lessons would have concluded had you not sailed away so abruptly on that military expedition.”
    Aristides began pacing about the courtyard. “And now that I’ve returned, and with Father’s passing, it seems everything I ever learned has trickled away,” he confided. Aristides stopped directly in front of Socrates and threw up his hands. “What should I do?”
    â€œSo far, you have considered only the widowed and the unmarried,” said Socrates. “What about the Athenian decree that allows married men to take a second wife in hopes of