Spiridion shrugged. “I’m curious to see Rhodes.”
Ariston cocked a brow. “Are you?”
“Medusa…” He glanced nervously at Ariston.
He nodded. While he wanted none of Xenia’s entreaties to move on and live without his love, he hungered to hear of Medusa. To know what she’d said and done in the time they were apart eased him somehow.
“Medusa spoke of Rhodes.” The boy’s smile wavered. “She said it would be the most beautiful of all Greece’s isles. That the people were kind and just.”
Ariston swallowed. “She said that?” He smiled, shaking his head. “She’s never been-”
“She said she knew it had to be.” Spiridion did smile then. “Because you were born there.”
Ariston felt tears sting his eyes then, and turned to stare into the sun. My lady, my lady, I miss you.
“I miss her,” Spiridion echoed his thoughts.
“As do I,” he agreed, hating the thickness of his voice. His hand gripped the carved owl he wore round his neck, rubbing his thumb along its smooth back.
“You wear her necklace,” Spiridion spoke.
Ariston glanced at the boy then. The necklace had been taken from her long before she’d found Kore and Spiridion.
“She would reach for it, as you do.” The boy pointed at the carved wooden owl. “I asked her why she did that, reach for her neck, then press her hand against her chest.”
“What did she say?”
Spiridion shook his head.
“What is it?” Ariston asked, frustrated by the boy’s denial.
Spiridion’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I may be a boy, but I will not weep in the market.”
Ariston felt a smile pull at his lips. “You’ve the makings of a fine man, Spiridion of Athens.”
“Soon to be of Rhodes.” Spiridion smiled at him. “I am glad you will be my father.”
The boys’ words felt like manacles about him. He could not give this boy what he needed, what his own father had given him in his youth. He was a shell of a man, he knew it was true. “I can never replace your father, Spiridion. I would never try. What was his name?”
“Kephas. My mother was called Hemera.”
“Good names. He was a herder?”
“He was. As his father before him. Our herd was large once,” he sounded sad. “So few were left. But I knew Kore needed milk. If I lost the others, it would be no matter.”
“Yet you managed to keep a sizable herd, while caring for your sister.” He looked at Spiridion, impressed anew. “I’m sorry you had to leave them.”
“What will I do on Rhodes? Do you have goats?”
“We do. But we have herders as well… though I’m sure they’d welcome your assistance now and then.” He smiled. “My father, his people, my family… they will all welcome you home, Spiridion. Some days you will feel as if you’ve too many fathers.”
Spiridion grinned. “And mothers?”
“And mothers,” Ariston nodded. “I have four sisters.”
“Four?” Spiridion’s eyes went round.
Ariston laughed. “You see why I left?”