Just Myrto Read Online Free PDF

one of the wooden chairs. Socrates had neither removed it from my waist nor consummated our marriage.
    I sat in the other chair and poured myself a quarter cup of wine. I added another quarter cup of water and mixed the drink with my index finger. I licked my finger, gave the mixture another swirl, and then licked my finger again. Had the wine clouded my memory? I checked the bed. No blood.
    Am I or am I not a married woman?
I mulled this over as I broke off pieces of bread from the basket, softened them in my wine and ate. I did feel strangely different. Hungry and alive.
What is it Idesire?
I don’t know. But I shouldn’t mind being married to a man who treats me as a goddess.
    I sprinkled some of the uncut red wine on the bed.
Close enough.
No one but Socrates and I knew the truth. And surely no man would tell such a secret. I admired my handiwork before packing the garter away with my other belongings.
    I selected the most aromatic red apple from the basket and was munching contentedly when I heard a light tapping at the door. I wiped the apple’s juices from my mouth and considered who it might be. I knew of no one to fear but Xanthippe, who seemed unlikely to tap lightly.
    â€œCome in,” I answered.
    â€œGood morning, ma’am,” said a young girl. She kept her eyes on the floor and hid behind silky chestnut hair. “Mr. Socrates says to make sure you have whatever you need.”
    â€œWhat is your name, child?” I asked. She reminded me very much of myself when I was eleven and serving my father.
    â€œKorinna, ma’am,” she replied shyly.
    â€œGood morning, Korinna.” I had indeed been transformed from a “miss” yesterday to a “ma’am” today. “Please have a seat here beside me and tell me about my new home.”
    Korinna hesitated. Hers was indeed a friendly face. Perhaps she could show me other secret pockets of safety in this home.
    â€œPlease join me,” I invited her. “I was just enjoying some breakfast.”
    Korinna glanced back at the open doorway before giving me a slight nod and sitting awkwardly on the very edge of the chair.
    â€œWhere is Socrates?” I asked.
    â€œMr. Socrates and Mr. Lamprocles left for the marketplace at sun-up,” she said. “Mr. Socrates always meets his students there.”
    The sound of scurrying outside the door catapulted Korinna to her feet. An even younger face peeked into the room.
    â€œIris!” cried Korinna. “What are you doing?”
    â€œI just want to see her, too,” the small voice said sheepishly.
    â€œDo come in, child, and let me see you,” I coaxed. “Your name is Iris?”
    The girl stared at me wide-eyed as she nodded.
    â€œIris!” Korinna again scolded her. Iris shifted her inquisitive eyes to the basket on the table.
    â€œAre you two sisters?” To their great fortune, neither of them looked anything like Socrates. In fact, I had never heard anyone suggest that Socrates had any daughters.
    â€œOh, no, ma’am,” replied Korinna, “We’re not sisters. Mrs. Xanthippe just saved us both.”
    â€œSaved you from what, Korinna?”
    â€œWhy from exposure, ma’am,” Korinna replied.
    â€œAnd as soon as we’re old enough to bring a good price, we’ll go live with the richest family she can find,” Iris added.
    â€œThe nicest family, Iris,” Korinna corrected her.
    â€œHow many of you has Xanthippe saved?” I pictured the yellow horse trotting up the hillside through the darkness of night drawn by the cries of exposed baby girls.
And why does she save them? Why, to raise them as slaves and sell them for a profit, of course.
    This reality seemed completely lost on Korinna. “There are 14 of us,” Korinna told me. “Melissa will be going to her new family soon, so I expect Mrs. Xanthippe’ll be looking for another abandoned baby girl to save,” Korinna