"I entered my twenty-eighth year last month," I said.
"And still unwed. Sin you've left the king's service, you'll be settling down here, is it no?"
"What are you ettling after, Mother?"
My father interrupted: "When we got your letter from Athens-did you receive mine, by the bye?"
"Na, I didna."
"That oft befalls. As I wrote, your mother and I have taken thought on finding you a proper goodwife. I've put out inquiries amongst the knightly families of the region, and methinks I've found one."
"Who?" I gulped.
"Manto, daughter of Ion of Argoura."
I tried to recall Ion's family. He had several daughters, but the lass would have grown beyond recognition, anyway.
"She's fifteen," said my mother, "and well brought up. At no rate ugly, albeit her teeth might be better. But that's of less weight than her portion. Ion's offering two and a half talents! With your bonus you'll be a rich young couple. Besides, they're a branch of the Skopadai, so we shall have a connection with ilk of the best families of southern Thessalia."
I grunted. My father said: "The lad's no listening. What's agley?"
"Nought. Only-well-ah—"
"Is your mind bent another way?" asked my father suspiciously. When I did not answer, Mother burst out: " 'Tis the foreign cutty! Is it no true? I thought I saw him rolling ox eyes at her yesternight! Answer me, Leon!"
"Rhoda, my dear," said my father, "let's no—"
"Is it no true, Leon?" she cried. "The Persian strumpet—"
"I'll no have you speak on her in sic words!" I said, rising. "An you persist, I'll forth into the world again, talent and all."
"Leon! You darena speak thus till your own mother—"
"Pray, pray!" said my father. "Let's be keeping our tempers. Tell us about the kimmer, Leon."
"She's a well-born Persian lady, of a landowning family in Sousa muckle like ours. Aside from that, she's the brawest, purest, bonniest lass I've met in Hellas or Persia."
My mother said: "These foreign wenches can easily fool a wean like you. Too late you find they're temple whores or the like."
"I said I wudna bear sic talk!" I shouted.
"Now, now," said my father. "Do curb your tongue, Rhoda. You're but making matters waur. Now, Leon, let's speak of the little matter of property. Some Persians are said to be unco rich—"
" 'Tis no for her property I love her, for she has none. She quarreled with her goodsire and ran away with her brother. And even gif she be reconciled, the Persians dinna give their daughters dowries. The man's family pays, instead."
My father's eyes bulged, and he sat down heavily. "By the gods!" he gasped. "I wudna have believed it. A foreigner is bad enough, let abee a dowerless wench—why son, you're fair, dune daft! I have never heard the like!"
"There was my grandfather Leon," I said.
"Aye, but that's long syne. Look you, Leon, take the besom to concubine if you maun. We all ken how strong are the lusts of youth—"
"Dinna speak on her so! Persians of good class are as jealous of their women's virtue as we, and I'll warrant she's a virgin still."
"Virgin or no," said my mother, "I might put up with a lass of small dowry, were she of well-known respectable local folk. But a filthy foreigner! Why, son, you'd even lose your franchise! 'Twere a disgrace to us all! I durstna see my friends again, but would shut mysel up like Danae in her tower. Well, one thing's sure: the hussy maun be out of my house the night."
"An she go, I go, too," I said.
My mother raged at me, but my father asserted himself for once. "Hold your tongue, Rhoda. He has all your stubbornness; press him too far and he'll go as he says. Whereas, while he stays, there's a chance he'll somegate be brought to see reason. Forbye, 'twould smirch our repute for hospitality to ask our guests to leave over a matter in which, as far as we ken, they're blameless."
After some further argument, my father and I wrung a grudging agreement from my mother that there should be no more talk of sending my friends away.
"More by token," I said, "the lass shall be used with all our wonted courtesy. The erst I hear to the contrary—out I go!"
That night my father bid a number of his knightly friends and relations to the hall for a man's banquet. By next day, our quarrel had simmered down for the nonce. That morning I met Nirouphar in the courtyard and asked her how things went.
"They're as kind as they could be," she said. "Especially your dear mother, whom I love already as my own. But—oh, Rheon, she was telling me of your marriage customs! I fear it is hopeless for us."
I saw what Mother was up to, but short of leaving home I knew not what I could do about it. Despite my heated speech of the previous day, I was loath to leave, so soon at any rate after so long an absence. Besides, I had no definite plans for earning my bread, aside from hazy thoughts of re-enlisting in Alexander's armies.
In the afternoon, Vardanas came in from showing my brother Aristos tricks with his kamynda. The downy-bearded young Aristos was ever the difficult one of our family, dour and self-willed, but he was like putty in the Persian's hands. Next, Vardanas borrowed Aristos' lyre. When I came upon them, Vardanas was sitting in the courtyard, singing sad Persian love songs in a high quavery voice. When Aristos got bored and went off to practice with the noose, Vardanas struck a final chord and said:
"Have you spoken to your parents about the matter that concerns us all, Leon?"
"Aye. And the violence of their protests all but blew the roof off."
"As I expected," he said, striking another sad chord. "Are you no pleased?"
"Nay, my friend. For I bid fair to join you in your misery."
"What mean you, laddie?"
"It is your fair sister Phila."
"Herakles! What see. you in her?" I blurted. To me Phila was simply a snub-nosed brat with reddish hair who had grown up into a snub-nosed sixteen-year-old maid with reddish hair—a good fishing companion, perhaps, but not the sort any man in search of wife or mistress would look at twice.
"She has my heart in her keeping, though she know it not."
"O deathless gods! Eros has tied a knot more snarled than that of Gordios, and we have no sword wherewith to cleave it. Belike 'twere better not to bring this condition of yours before ray parents yet; they've had one shock already."
Vardanas gave a deep sigh. "Alas, dearest friend! Would we were Athenians, who fall in love only with those of their own sex!" He began another melancholy Persian love song.
This was serious enough, but that night Phila stopped me in the house to ask me all about Vardanas.
"Oh," said she, closing her eyes, "is he no grand, though?"
Things quieted down for the nonce. There was always so much to be done on the estate that a man suffering from frustrated love could thus work off his feelings.
But in the month of Gamelion, when a sudden snowstorm had driven us in for the day and our guests were occupied elsewhere, our problem blew up into another domestic storm. I threatened to leave home, Phila threatened to slay herself if Vardanas departed, and my parents threatened all sorts of dire things.
Into this battle of words came my brother Demonax, shaking the snow from the folds of his cloak and thus further displeasing Mother, who hated wet floors. Everybody appealed to him, for he was by general consent deemed the wisest and justest of us all, and he had of late been taking over more and more of the management of the manor from my father.
Demonax, howsomever, kept a judicial silence, seeming more amused than appalled by our various plights. When the rest of us had shouted ourselves hoarse, he smiled his slow smile and said mildly: