“Wider.” Iatromea prodded Alea’s tongue with a gnarled finger.
Alea stretched her mouth so the healer could peer inside. Danae glanced at her mother. Eleni was staring at the back of Iatromea’s head as though she might be able to see the woman’s thoughts if she just looked hard enough.
Philemon sat next to Alea on the bench. He hadn’t let go of her hand. It would have been a touching scene, if it weren’t for the secret growing in Alea’s stomach.
“Well?” Thaddeus said impatiently. “What’s wrong with her?”
Iatromea grumbled something incomprehensible, then proceeded to prod and poke Alea in various places. Once satisfied with her examination, she straightened up.
“Heat exhaustion.”
“There,” her mother’s voice was light with relief. “Didn’t I say? Nothing to worry about.”
“Women,” grumbled Thaddeus.
“Father.” Philemon rose to his feet. He was trembling. Danae noticed his knuckles had turned white as he clung to Alea’s hand. “I too wish for the wedding to be brought forward. It was the worst time of my life when Alea was gone—” he glanced down at his intended and swallowed “—and I don’t want to waste another moment.” He raised his head and looked his father dead in the eye.
Danae thought this might be the bravest thing Philemon had ever done.
Thaddeus stared at him as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. Philemon stood firm, like a hardy blade of grass against the withering heat of the sun.
“I... I am a man now, and it is my right to marry when I wish.”
There was silence as Thaddeus considered his son. Danae held her breath.
Then Thaddeus let out a booming laugh. “It is good for a man to speak his mind. And yes, you are a man now. To get anywhere in life you must go after what you want and not give up until it’s between your teeth.” He slapped Philemon on the shoulder. “All right then, you shall have your wedding in the month of ploughing.”
Philemon looked so shocked that Danae wondered if he too was going to faint.
“Oh, Thaddeus, thank you—” Eleni began, but he interrupted her.
“There, you got what you wanted. Now—” he gestured toward the door “—I’m a very busy man.”
“Yes, of course.” Eleni took both her daughters’ hands and backed away. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”
Iatromea coughed.
Thaddeus grunted and shouted for the boy to fetch his purse.
“No, we’ll pay, I insist.”
Danae looked at her mother, brow furrowed. Thaddeus was infinitely wealthier than they were. He probably wouldn’t even notice the missing coin, whereas paying the healer would mean no bread for her family for a week.
Philemon showed them out, still flushed from standing up to his father. He waved them out into the heat of the day and shut the door.
Danae slipped an arm around Alea’s waist as their mother turned to the old healer.
“How much do I owe you?”
An unpleasant smile hooked the corners of Iatromea’s mouth. “Five obols.”
Eleni balked. The healer’s eyes slid past her to rest on Alea’s stomach.
Danae’s blood ran cold. She knew. She’d known all along.
Her mother’s lips turned white as she pressed them together and rooted around in her purse. She drew out two obols.
“It’s all I have on me. But you will receive the rest tomorrow.”
