Road to Hyperborea

Part 3 - The Home

He guzzled merrily and heartily. The nectar was syrupy and tasted of honey, raisins, pomegranates, thyme, and pennyroyal.

He put down the kylix on the table and gasped with delight.

"A marvel!" he exclaimed. "Dionysos truly favors the people of Chios."

"Does he, husband?" Euryleonis asked, laughing.

"Don't play coy, woman. Come sit with me and Melianthos and have some too; I mixed too much for myself alone." He knew full well that his Lacedaemonian born wife had no qualms about drinking wine, be it sweet wine from Thasos, or common swill. Whereas other Greeks from around the Mesogeios disapproved of women drinking wine, Spartans allowed them to drink and required them to train, just like men, so they could give birth to healthy and strong sons. His wife still trained at the gymnasion, despite most Metapontines frowning upon such conducts. She was a tremendous athlete in her own right: fleet-footed as Atalanta and fierce as Hippolyta. She had even once conquered the olive wreath at the Heraean Games.

As an athlete, her skin was sun-kissed and tanned, rather than pale and white as milk, and her body was toned and strong. She had an ample and firm bosom that she always bound when she was running and exercising. Her eyes were the color of cypress foliage and her hair that of honey, and her features were delicate and symmetrical.

She sat on a couch in front of him and filled another kylix to the brim.

"And where is the slave girl who procured such a fabulous beverage," he asked.

"She must be back in the kitchen," Euryleonis presumed, before clapping her hands. "Melitta! Come here, girl."

A young woman of fifteen or sixteen years emerged from the adjacent room. She was not unpleasant to look at, with dark eyes and hair.

"You called, Mistress?" she said.

Kallistos took his own kylix and put it on the table at the center of the room. "Here, girl. Take a sip of that wine you found."

"Husband!" his wife shouted.

The young slave bowed her head and tensed up like an ox at the cracking of the whip.

"What's wrong, woman?" he asked.

Euryleonis glared at him with exasperated amusement. "You would have a slave drink with us?"

"Come, girl," he said, shaking his head. "Sit and drink."

The girl approached the table, knelt and took a minuscule sip out of the kylix. It was enough to make her cough and hack: she obviously had never had wine.

"Take it back with you to the kitchen," he laughed as he dismissed her with a gesture.

She stood up, grabbed the cup and left the room with haste.

"Do you think it proper?" Euryleonis inquired with severity and furrowed brow.

"If I cared about what is proper, woman, you would be drinking water in the gynaeceion. Is a mouthful of her find not a suitable reward for good service? Besides, I doubt Melanthios disapproved of the girl's presence..." Kallistos said with a wry smile and a wink at his adolescent son. He had spied him trying to sneak a glance at the budding breasts that peeked through the fabric of the slave's chiton.

The boy blushed and sunk his head between his shoulders. He had his mother's hair and eyes, but his father's strong features. He was fifteen, shy and small for his age, but Kallistos himself had been somewhat short and frail until his late twenties. His father was certain that with enough determination, young Melanthios could become a skilled athlete.