dared desire? Only in my dreams â¦
My mind raced back to the wedding hymns and blessings. This was what I was supposed to say. âI desire what every woman desires,â I said. âA son.â
âAh, yes,â replied Socrates. âSons are wonderful. I have a son.â Socrates poured us each a cup of wine, raised his cup and waited for me to raise mine as well. âTo sons.â
With that desire in mind, I drank deeply from the cup. The wine was much stronger than I expected. In our home our wine was mixed with equal parts of water. Socratesâ wine tasted uncut. I could feel it rushing into my stomach and swiftly making its way into the muscles of my neck and shoulders.
Socrates smiled and again raised his cup. âTo sons!â Again we drank deeply. The wine danced down my back and into my legs.
How many cups of wine will it take for me to be ready for Socrates to try to give me a son?
I set my cup on the table and again found myself afraid to meet his gaze.
Socrates also set his cup down and gently lifted my chin with his hand, looking once again into my eyes.
âMyrto,â he said. âAre you afraid?â
I felt my heart pounding, but the wine was loosening my tongue. âShould I be afraid, Socrates?â I examined his face for the answer.
Socrates tilted his head and appeared to give this serious consideration. Finally, he replied, âFear is not about
shoulds
and
should nots,
Myrto. If and when you feel it, fear just is.â
As he said these words, my fear evaporated.
âI will never force myself upon you, Myrto. If you desire a son, I am honored to attend to that desire at your request.â
I hesitated, wondering if I could believe my new husband. âBut my brother has given me to you for the production of legitimate children regardless of my desire,â I said.
âI made that contract with your brother, itâs true,â conceded Socrates. âBut your brother is not here. Now that you are my wife, are we not free to make our own covenants?â
Surely he is mocking me. Men make agreements with men, not women. No contract with a woman can be binding.
âYou would make an agreement with a woman?â I asked.
âMost certainly,â Socrates said nodding, âbut even more importantly, how can I be sure that you are a woman and not a goddess in disguise?â
I laughed aloud. âThe wine is playing tricks upon us both!â I poured more wine in both our cups and raised my glass. âTo the wine!â
Socrates raised his cup, but took only a sip before setting it back down on the table. âWould it not be just like Pallas Athena to disguise herself as the granddaughter of Aristides the Just to see if I would indeed treat her justly? Or Aphrodite to appear in the form of a beautiful young woman named after her favorite flower?â
Socrates took the wine from my hand, set it on the table and took both of my hands in his. âMy flesh is mortal, my dear Myrto. I have learned to allow a goddess to express her desire rather than impose my own desires upon her. No mortal man can dominate a goddess and hope to survive.â
He kissed my cheek and led me to the bed. âCome,â he said. âLet us sleep. Tomorrow you can think again about what it is you desire.â
5
T HE NEXT MORNING the fear of living in Xanthippeâs house replaced my fear of sleeping in Socratesâ bed. I awoke to distant sounds of her ranting. Xanthippe means âyellow horse.â I pictured her reared up on her hind legs, neighing loudly and knocking me to the ground with her powerful front hooves.
Perhaps it would be best for me to stay right here until Socrates returns.
I surveyed the room. My clothes and all of my worldly possessions were neatly placed in one corner. A chamber pot awaited in the far corner. I adjusted my tunic and ran my fingers through my butchered hair. I pondered my garter which was draped across
The School of Darkness (v1.1)