Two

[Arianna]

"Calixte, stop your gawking and help me."

Arianna watched her mother shake out a wet garment.

The little girl pouted. "But mother—"

Damia shook her head. "No buts, young lady. You can go play later."

Calixte opened her mouth to protest, but her mother smacked her playfully on the backside. "Hop to it, little miss," she said, a smile crossing her tanned face.

Little Calixte heaved a sigh, resigning herself to the monotonous task of hanging laundry out to dry. Looking deeply offended, she rubbed her backside and pouted, reaching for a piece of clean clothing with her free hand.

Arianna shook her head as she hung a dark brown garment on the line. Calixte never had much patience for household chores. She'd far rather run around with the other village children and play silly little games all day. Calixte longed for excitement, and spent hours sitting up on the battlements and gazing out over the sea.

The soldiers had at first been reticent to allow the little girl to hang around, but Calixte, who had not yet seen her eighth winter, quickly charmed them all with her sweet smile and high spirits. She was irresistible.

Arianna glanced at her sister, two years her junior. Calixte's green eyes were glazed over as she mindlessly reached up to hang another garment. She was definitely the beauty in the family.

"Mother, did you hear about what Prince Paris did?" Calixte asked suddenly. As well as the gossip, Arianna thought wryly.

Her mother evidently felt the same. "Calixte," she said, putting her hand on her hip. The wet garment she had been about to hang up was still in her grasp, and several droplets of water smashed to the dusty ground. "It is none of your concern what that good-for-nothing prince has been up to. Do you understand me?" Calixte's brow furrowed at the reception of her news. "Calixte…" her mother prompted.

"Yes Mana," Calixte muttered, her head bowed, shoulders tense, obviously biting her tongue to keep herself from further scolding.

Arianna tossed a tunic over the clothesline, smoothing it as she looked out over the sea, sending a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess Hestia for the beautiful location of the family's home. The small abode was set far back enough from the walls of the city that Arianna felt safe from the heavy storms that sometimes ravaged the shore, but close enough to the beach that if she closed her eyes and breathed deeply on windy days, she could almost feel the salt spray.

Arianna glanced over at Calixte. Her little sister was standing on tiptoe to hang up one of her father's work tunics, her long braids hanging nearly to her waist. Calixte's shoulders heaved in an enormous sigh as the little girl finished her task and tilted her head back to gaze up at the clear sky, her hands posed on her hips.

Arianna frowned. Calixte looked almost… peaceful. Arianna blinked twice and then hung up one of her younger sister's undergarments before looking back at her sister. To her surprise, Calixte was still standing there. Her sandaled feet, which usually tapped to imaginary music, were oddly still on the packed dirt. Her hands were still on her hips, and there was not even a breeze to swing Calixte's brown braids to and fro across her back.

"What are you doing?" Arianna asked. She didn't notice her mother turning to look at her two daughters.

"Just waiting." Calixte said quietly, never taking her eyes from the sky.

"For what?" Arianna asked, her hands clasped behind her back as she began to rock back and forth on her heels a little bit. Arianna always became fidgety when she was uneasy.

"Something extraordinary," Calixte said.

Unnerved, Arianna frowned and tore her gaze from her younger sister's still form. She shook out a cloth and hung it over the line, purposefully keeping her eyes from Calixte until her mother's voice broke into her thoughts.

"You may go, Calixte."

Arianna heard a squeal of delight and turned in time to see Calixte scampering away, hollering something to a little boy nearby, whose face lit in delight. "Calixte's coming to play!" he called, which inspired more whoops and shouts.

Arianna looked at her mother, who was smiling sadly as she watched Calixte run off with several of the neighborhood children.

"Why did you let her go, Mana?" Arianna asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion. "I thought we were supposed to help Calixte learn patience."

Damia smiled at her daughter and picked up the empty laundry basket, setting it on her hip. "You're right, Arianna, but today as I watched her face I couldn't help but give in. I think sometimes we forget that Calixte has not yet seen her eighth winter. She is still very young, and bound to be impetuous. If Calixte is to learn patience, she must see it in everything you and I do. But remember, sweet, neither of us wants to cloy your sister with unrealistic demands."

Arianna plopped down on the short stone wall that lined the back of their home. "I suppose," she said, resting her chin in one hand.

Damia exhaled in a laugh and set the basket, woven by her own hand, on the ground. She crossed the packed dirt of the yard and sat next to Arianna, reaching out to touch her dark braid. "Oh my Arianna," she said, putting her arm around her daughter. "Adults don't know everything. We do the best we can, sweet, but the gods don't give us all the answers."

Arianna lifted her head, her eyes searching her mother's wide, careworn face, tanned from so many years of hard work. "They don't? But mother, why are you and Pateras in charge if you don't know everything? And kings and queens and princes and all the rest?"

Damia laughed aloud, her whole body shaking in amusement. She touched her finger to the tip of Arianna's nose. "You are such a wise girl, my thygatera, but no mortal knows all the secrets of the earth. Sometimes the gods will reveal things to us a little at a time, like how to cultivate the rough land around Troy, how to take grain and make good bread out of it. But they never see fit to tell us how to raise our children. That's left to us. Your Pateras and I do the best we can."

Arianna drew her knees up to her chest and began to rock back and forth slowly. "I won't ever tell Calixte," she said solemnly. "I don't think she'd ever listen to you again, Mana."

Damia's face, which had been split in an uncharacteristic smile returned to its normal position: pleasant, but clearly a firm disciplinarian. "I would never ask you to keep anything from your sister, but I need to tell you something, Arianna. Though you are very young, I feel I can trust you with this. Can you promise me something, my sweet?"

Arianna nodded slowly, feeling the heat of the sun on her cheeks and the top of her head.

Damia looked around, as though checking for eavesdroppers, then brought her eyes to Arianna's. "I want you to promise me that you will look after Calixte, especially once I am gone."

"Oh mother, don't say such things!" Arianna gasped, letting her long legs drop to the ground and reaching out to take her mother's hands in her own. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Apollo willing."

Damia's mouth curved. "Hush, little one. I do not fear for my life. When my time comes, that will be that. It is your sister I worry about. You and I both know that Calixte does not think before she speaks, nor does she concern herself with matters other than the most superficial. I fear that her innocence will evolve into frivolity, which could be taken advantage of." Damia scooted closer to her daughter, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Watch her, my Arianna. Your sister is a tragedy just waiting to happen."

Arianna was silent for a moment, watching the emotions pass over her mother's usually stoic face. Could she promise to care for Calixte? As much as Arianna loved her baby sister, Calixte was passionate and had the potential to become high-strung, even hysterical. Arianna let out an unsteady sigh. "I will do as you say, Mana."

Damia's eyes held something odd—it looked almost like respect, but Arianna could not see why her mother would have respect for a daughter who had not yet passed eleven winters.

"You are a good girl, Arianna of Troy. Someday you will be a good wife and mother too, I think."

Arianna's eyes widened. "Mana! I am much too young to think of marriage."

Damia shook her head, mouth curving in amusement. "You are older than you think, my girl. Would you like to know the name of your betrothed?"

Arianna gasped and tightened her grasp on her mother's hands. "You and Pateras have already chosen? But, Mana, so soon?"

Damia stood. "His name is Lysander. He is training to become a warrior of Troy. He comes from a good family, and is a good boy. He will make a fine husband for you; don't fret so."

Arianna rose and brushed off her sandy hands on her clothes. "How old is he, mother?" she asked.

Damia's lip curved knowingly. "He is young, my Arianna. Your father and I would never have chosen an old man for you. I believe he will see his fifteenth winter in just a few months."

Arianna nodded, unable to help the smile that bloomed on her face. "How nice," she said noncommittally. "I am very grateful that you and Pateras have chosen someone so close to my own age." Already, thoughts of what he might look like swirled about in Arianna's head, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Her—married! It was practically unthinkable.

Damia looked as though she were going to tease her daughter, but suddenly drew her gaze toward the sky. Dark clouds had gathered quickly, and the air, which before had been dry and arid, was rapidly growing humid. Arianna inhaled. The land smelled of rain.

Damia's brow knit in a frown. "And just as we put all the wash out to dry. There wasn't a cloud in the sky this morning!" she exclaimed, walking quickly to the wash line and beginning to pull things off the line with jerky, frustrated movement, dropping them carelessly into her basket. "I suppose we'll have to lay them out in the house," she muttered to herself, gnawing on her bottom lip as a rumble of thunder sounded.

Arianna bit back a giggle and rushed to help. Working together, mother and daughter were able to gather up all of the clothes before the first drop fell. Arianna smiled when she heard her mother's sigh of relief and continued litany of complaints against the weather.

Thoughts of Calixte, her husband-to-be, and the future whirled through Arianna's mind as her mother stepped into the house, leaving her alone. Arianna stepped away from the family's small home, tilting her head back just in time to feel a warm summer droplet of rain plop onto her forehead.

Arianna's lips curved and she stretched out her arms to welcome the rain. It would be another full hour before she went back inside.

Glossary of Greek words:

+Mana: mother

+Pateras: father

+Thygatera: daughter