An Inheritance (part IX)
The Story of Isocrates
Ch. 9
As it was such a large haul, most of the fish was salted and set aside to cure; the rest had to be cooked posthaste. This led to a meal, that was far later than usual – and awkward besides, for the tension that was in the air. Although Isocrates had evaded the tongue-lashing, he still got the cold shoulder, and the evil eye, from his sister. Euandros was also holding a grudge.
He might have even sensed an attitude from Philetos.
Attitude or no, the servant had outdone himself in the kitchens, whipping up a veritable feast. The fish had been pan-fried, and seasoned to perfection, and this time the bread was brought to them straight out the oven. Isocrates tried to offer his compliments to the chef, and received a smile that was halfhearted, at best.
He took the rebuff in stride – what did he care? They all would be gone, on the morn, anyway. And he would be free to conduct his business, in peace; Tersios and his goons could return at any moment. He did not want his sister asking questions, which he knew she would; when suspicious, she turned into a gumshoe.
There was plenty left, when the last person pushed themselves from the table. The dishes were cleared, and Isocrates was abandoned. This all occurred in silence; there were no ‘Good nights,’ or ‘Sleep wells’ – they simply got up and walked off. Isocrates shrugged, and headed back to his brother’s room, with Stripe at his side; he still had him in his corner.
The sight of the empty bed, caused him to yawn wide, and to remember his ongoing feud with Hypnos. He sat in a chair, but seemed to have forgotten he was no safer there, nor anywhere, for that matter. His daytime activity had kept his blood flowing, and his mind alert; now he was winding down, fast. It then occurred to him that drinking might not have been the best idea; the alcohol made it even harder to mount a defense. He closed his eyes, to rest them – or that was the plan.
Spoiler Alert: he ended up drifting away.
And he was back in the flaming hall, where he was driven, and violently assaulted, by huntresses worse than lionesses. He still refused to enter the room that lay ahead, but he definitely recognized it now – it was his. He figured this out when he was subjected to the scene playing back-to-back; he might have known it when he first saw it, and just blocked it out. The wine had him sleeping deeply enough that he had to endure some reruns, before he returned to the waking world.
The difficult recoveries were becoming more so; his throat was now so raw that every cough was excruciating. Stripe had risen from his slumber to perform a checkup, but when he saw all was fine, he promptly went back to sleep. Isocrates stood up and got several torches going; the only illumination was from the halfmoon outside. He had no way to tell how long he slept; he only knew that it was still in the small hours.
His ankles were aching from standing next to the pond all day; he certainly was not up to another night of pacing. He needed to get off of his feet, but he knew what that would lead to – for a while, he just stood there frozen with indecision. Unable to come up with a solution, he gave up fighting it, and went to sit down, on the bed. He could not have remained standing for much longer, anyway; if reclining was a must, he might as well be comfortable.
But sitting there idle was like watching paint dry; he ended up back at a window, staring into the night. That way, he was technically on his feet, and yet – at the same time – he was able to lean on the sill, for support. This worked, for a while, until he felt himself beginning to doze; he shook it off, and cursed his abysmal lot. The rest of the night was much of the same, with him doing his best to stay alert, and out of the crematory.
* * *
The sky was changing over when he began to hear the sound of movement in the house; Stripe popped up at once, as he heard it too. Glad to finally quit the pointless vigil, Isocrates went to see his company on their way. They seemed to have resolved their differences overnight; now the pair was lovey-dovey, as if they were newlyweds. Isocrates was quite surprised that a relationship could turn so quickly, which was proof of his lack of experience.
Now with Carnaea having retracted her claws, Euandros had come around, and warmed back up to his host and instigator. He never even mentioned the night before; Isocrates started to tell him pretending would not get him anywhere. Instead, he washed his hands with the nonsense – if Euandros wanted to be henpecked, then that was his choice.
Before the departure, they broke bread again, having to serve themselves, as Philetos was out loading up the mule. When they finished eating, Carnaea stood and began collecting the plates; Isocrates told her he would get it later – he did not wish to keep them any longer than necessary. He led them outside, meaning to bid them farewell; the married couple embraced, and shared a passionate kiss.
Had Isocrates not known any better, he would have thought they were parting ways.
Their mouths remained locked together. Isocrates cleared his throat, so as to get their attention; he might as well have not been there. It was not until they came up for air, that their lips parted.
“I’ll miss you so much.” Were the words of Euandros, giving her another peck.
Isocrates’ brow furrowed, “What do you mean – you’ll miss her?” He blurted out.
Both Euandros, and Carnaea’s heads turned; the former looked bewildered, the latter as if her feelings were hurt.
“Just what I said.” Replied Euandros. “Who knows how long the summit should last.”
“But, won’t she be with you?”
“Of course not.” Euandros replied. “She can’t just go jumping back on the road, in her condition. She’ll have to rest first.”
“How long will the summit last?” Isocrates thought to ask.
“These things usually go on for a week or so.”
“A week!”
“Sometimes longer.” Euandros added, offhandedly.
“Wait…what?”
“Why does it even matter?” Carnaea cut in.
“I just thought…you never said you were staying over.” Isocrates continued to stammer.
“I didn’t think I needed to ask.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because this is still my home.”
“Your home is in Dolopia now.” He reminded her.
“Then I’m no longer welcome here?”
“I never said you’re unwelcome, but common courtesy should not be ignored.”
“Nay, but nor should your familial bonds.” Carnaea replied, flipping the objection on its head.
While he wanted to push back, an argument predicated on pregnancy was all but airtight, so he knew that it was no point in trying.
During the exchange, Philetos had been finishing up his task of bringing out the baggage, and securing it on the mule. Compared to when they arrived, this was a light load, as Euandros’ sundries had only made up for a quarter of the total. The mule was in no position to celebrate – since it was no longer in the pen, it had to put up with Stripe again.
Euandros came over and offered his hand to shake. Isocrates accepted it, and was pulled in close.
“Don’t tell Nae about the possible invasion.” Euandros said quietly, with his mouth next to Isocrates’ ear.
“You haven’t told her, already?” Isocrates asked, surprised, and in the same hushed tone.
“I don’t want to upset her, in her delicate state.”
Isocrates brow furrowed again – he had a hard time seeing his sister as delicate.
For her part, Carnaea wore a similar expression, having grown suspicious of all the whispering.
Once Isocrates had given his assent, the clench broke. Euandros nodded, and headed for the mule, but when passing by Carnaea, he stopped short. There was another public display of affection by the lovebirds; Isocrates did not bother trying to disturb them. When the pair got their amorous inclinations in check, Euandros went and took hold of the lead rope, and set off with the mule.
“Be careful, master!” Philetos called after him.
“Hurry back, love!” Carnaea added.
Isocrates rolled his eyes, and headed back for the courtyard.
From the moment Carnaea came in from seeing Euandros on his way, she started giving her brother the third-degree, “Why were you two whispering” – “Is Euandros keeping something from me?” – “What aren’t you telling me?” – such was the gist of it, although there were many more iterations. Isocrates was tightlipped throughout the line-of-questioning; firstly, because he gave his word not to say anything, and secondly, for the sake of pure enjoyment.
It was clear that his stonewalling was causing her much distress.
The deluge of inquiry was followed up by a drought, of sorts; she revised her mode of attack, and employed the silent treatment. She seemed to think refusing to converse was a tactic to her advantage – if only she knew. She also chose to make herself scarce, spending much of the day holed up in her quarters; this too was greatly appreciated. Isocrates was relishing in the solitude, when Philetos came and summoned him to the andron, to attend dorpon.
As already mentioned, the fish which they could not immediately scarf down was curing – a process that took a few days. In the interim, they were back to just bread and oil, and, surprisingly, his sister was not complaining about it. She had opted for yet another method to achieve her objective, assuming she might catch more flies using honey. When he reached for the bread, she made sure to pass it to him; when he told Philetos he was thirsty, she was quick to grab the pitcher.
“Let me get that for you.” She said graciously, and went on to pour the water, which happened to be all that they had to drink. “Pardon me for being so forceful earlier, in trying to ply you for information.”
“I’m used to your nosy ways.” Responded Isocrates, taking a sip of water.
“After thinking about it, I realized that there was no need to push you to talk – you’ll tell me, when you get ready.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” He replied.
Her fake smile disappeared.
“Would you mind passing me another piece of bread?” He asked.
“Get it yourself.” Was her response.
There were a few moments quiet afterwards, leading Isocrates to get his hopes up – she opened her mouth again, and they were dashed.
“As much as I’m enjoying my time here, with you, I’m going to pay Iolanthe a visit.”
“You’re going where?” Isocrates asked, his annoyance quickly becoming worry, as he did not want her out, poking round.
“You remember my friend Iolanthe; her father is –”
“I know who you’re referring to, but what makes you think you’re going anywhere?”
“Excuse me?”
“Euandros left you here so that you can rest.”
“I can make it up and down the hill, thank you.”
Isocrates sighed, and frantically racked his brain for another excuse to use in talking her out of going, “It will be dark soon.” He said.
That was all he could come up with.
“The sun hasn’t even started setting, and it’s summer – the days are long.”
Realizing that she would not be dissuaded, he decided to enlighten her – best to get out in front of it, “Don’t be surprised if you find our neighbors aren’t feeling very neighborly, at present.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“There was a recent tax hike.”
“Enacted by whom?”
“By me.”
“On what grounds?” She asked, her expression one of confusion.
Isocrates wanted to keep his word, but his hand was forced, “Hypatos, or the Lord of Vultures,” he began, emphasizing the epithet, “has his legion positioned on the border of Phthia, and could well invade.”
“But how terrifying.” Carnaea replied, her eyes growing wide.
“Indeed; that’s what Euandros and I were whispering about. He thought it was best to keep it from you, so as not to cause you to panic, but I think that you deserve to know.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but what does all this have to do with raising taxes?”
“I’m planning on overseeing renovations, having the outer wall reinforced and what not, in case the community has to gather here for protection.” He explained. “And the folk will need food to eat.” He thought to add.
“I guess that makes sense, but why’d you say the neighbors might be angry? – they should understand.”
“They should have, but they didn’t…not without coercion.”
“What kind of coercion?” She asked, with apprehension.
“The kind that was necessary.”
Upon hearing this, she got up and left. Philetos retrieved her unfinished plate, and having lost his appetite, Isocrates offered his as well.
* * *
Daylight had started fading, when Carnaea returned; Isocrates was still in the andron, waiting. She came in with a sack, which she placed upon the table, and looked as if she had just learned of another death.
“I borrowed some meat and vegetables, on your behalf.” She explained.
Isocrates assumed that she had misspoken.
“I think you mean our behalf.” He replied.
She shook her head.
“Philetos!” She called out.
Almost instantly, the servant appeared.
“Yes, mistress?”
“Pack my belongings; we’re going elsewhere.” She announced.
Isocrates was understandably taken aback. Philetos was clearly just as shocked, but he went to do as told.
“And be quick,” she added, catching him at the doorway, “lest it gets too dark – word is that there are wolves about.”
“There are quite a few bags, mistress; it may take a while.”
“Just grab what’s important, then; we’ll send for the rest.”
“At once.” He replied, and exited.
“You can’t just decide to stay somewhere else!” Isocrates said in protest, rising to his feet.
“I certainly can, and I am.” Replied Carnaea. “Iolanthe said I’m welcome there, for however long is needed.
“Euandros left you here in my charge; I’m responsible for your safety.”
“I cannot remain here with you – one who exploits his own neighbors, in a crisis.”
“That’s what they’re saying?”
“You said it yourself – only you left out the part about Delearces being nearly beaten to death.”
“That was a mistake.”
“How so? – they say you were there.”
“I tried to stop it.”
“Well, that’s not what I heard; they say you were an active participant.”
“That’s a lie!” Isocrates declared, trying to convince her, and needing to convince himself.
Moments later, Philetos returned.
“All is prepared?” Carnaea asked.
“The bags are by the door, mistress; I’m ready when you are.” Replied the servant.
“Excellent. Gods willing, the wolves are not out yet.” Said she.
“You mean, you were serious about the wolves?” Isocrates asked, having assumed that she was talking about him.
“Of course, I was serious – who would joke about such things? Livestock has been coming up missing, almost daily.”
“Then, at the very least, I should see that you make it to Iolanthe’s, safely.”
“Philetos can protect me, if it comes to that.”
Isocrates looked at the old man, and was doubtful.
“As capable as he might be, Stripe and I will come…just in case.”
“Please don’t – I’d rather be eaten, than to be seen in your company. Let’s go, Philetos.”
She and the servant set off.
Isocrates followed them through the hall, making for the front door. He still had more to say, but he kept it to himself. As much as his sister got under his skin, he still valued their relationship – yet and still, it was better this way.
As she was nearing the door, she turned back to face him, “I would imagine that you won’t be attending the Harvest Festival overmorrow?” She asked.
As he had been rather busy, he had forgotten about the celebration; when he was young, he looked forward to it, every year.
“Probably not.” He replied, as there was nothing to think about – he knew he was persona non grata.
She nodded in understanding, and walked out the door.
Philetos gathered up the bags, and went after her. Isocrates followed, and watched from the portico as they departed. The sky was a deep shade of lavender; if they were to beat Nyx, they would have to hurry. While he was standing there, Stripe padded over and sat beside him; back from some unknown escapade. After watching till the pair disappeared, Isocrates went back inside, and the hound followed.
He retrieved the sack that his sister had left for him in the andron, and inspected the contents. There were some peppers and onions, and two large smoked steaks, of an unspecified type – if he had to guess, he thought it was venison. After marmot, venison was his favorite food, but he was in no mood to enjoy it now. He tossed one of the steaks over his shoulder – Stripe caught it in the air – and went to put the rest of the food in the pantry.
With that out the way, he then returned to the andron, where Stripe had already inhaled the steak he was given. Isocrates was planning on spending the night there, as opposed to in his quarters, where his eyes would just keep straying to the bed. He was reaching for a chair when something on the wall happened to catch his attention.
He looked in that direction and, sure enough, the most hated spider ever, was staring back at him. It was up near the ceiling though, too high for him to get at. He took the chair and slid it over to the wall, beneath the tiny eight-legged denizen of Hades. Stripe had rushed over to see what was going on, but, as yet, seemed unaware of the intruder.
Sliding off a sandal, Isocrates climbed onto the chair, but his target remained out of reach. The spider did not even attempt to move away; it just stayed in the same spot, like it was taunting him. He stretched as far as he could – and almost fell.
After regaining his balance, he climbed back down, and searched for something that would better suit his purposes. Scanning the room, his eyes settled on the spear mounted on the opposite wall – the same one he used to kill his father. He quickly darted over and snatched the spear down, then hurried back, but he had taken his eyes away for too long.
He was standing beside the chair, so he was in the right spot, but the wall above him was bare. He looked around, in hopes that the spider was still in the open, and had simply changed locations, but it was gone. In a fit of rage, he brought the spear down over one of his knees, snapping it in half.
It should come as no surprise that the plan to stay in the andron was scrapped.
(to be continued…)
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