Just Myrto by Laurie Gray Page A

anger and confusion rose in my throat. I struggled to spit it out. “I can assure you Xanthippe is not pleased.” I wanted to run home. My home. All the way back to my childhood before Mother died. Back to a world that was safe and made sense.
There is no place for me to run.
I straightened my back with determination and walked toward my husband. I could feel Plato watching my back, but he did not follow me.
    The men were in the midst of a rather heated discussion. Lamprocles glared at me.
Oh, yes, it could be worse. I may not be married to someone as desirable as Plato, but at least I’m not married to Lamprocles!
Without meaning to, I smiled. Lamprocles scowled. The only one who seemed to be completely at ease was Socrates. He gestured for me to have a seat by his side.
    â€œGentlemen, this is Myrto,” said Socrates. “She’ll be joining me for as long as she chooses.”
    The men nodded their greetings, but continued arguing. Everyone was talking at once.
    â€œI don’t trust him, I tell you. He’s too close to the Thirty Tyrants!”
    â€œIt’s true. Charmides is his uncle and Critias himself is a cousin.”
    â€œThey’ve ordered the execution of Alcibiades!”
    â€œSocrates could be next!”
    Socrates winked at me and cleared his throat. Every head turned to hear him speak. “Do you mind if I summarize our discussion for Myrto?
    â€œPlease do, Socrates,” the men all agreed.
    â€œVery well,” Socrates began. He pointed to two men on his left as he spoke. “Ever since Sparta defeated Athens and imposed the reign of the Thirty Tyrants, Dion and Megellus here have been plotting to overthrow the Tyrants and restore democracy to our people.” The two men nodded their agreement.
    â€œThe Tyrants destroyed our city when they tore down the long walls that protected us and connected us to the sea,” said Megellus.
    â€œAnd Critias himself celebrated during the ruin by dancing and playing his flute,” added Dion.
    â€œOf course, he was celebrating,” said Lamprocles. “He’s the leader of the whole, rotten bunch!”
    â€œCritias and Charmides,” growled Dion. “Two peas in a pod!”
    â€œAnd your friend Plato hails from the same vine,” chimed in Lamprocles. He was looking directly at me. At least ten years younger than all of the other men here, Lamprocles seemed a bit out of place, too. He and I were the only ones without beards.
    â€œTheir days are numbered,” said a man to our right.
    â€œYou speak the truth, Theages!” proclaimed a chorus of voices.
    â€œWhat do you say, Socrates?” asked Dion.
    â€œI say we must continue to examine the path to justice,” said Socrates. “Have decades of war brought us justice?”
    â€œNo,” the men agreed.
    â€œHave politicians and tyrants brought us justice?”
    â€œNo,” sang the chorus again.
    â€œThen we who love Athens and love wisdom, must ask ourselves, what is the justice we seek,” Socrates said.
    â€œBut what about Plato?” asked Megellus. “Can we trust him?”
    â€œWhen we were at war, did Plato take up his sword and fight?” asked Socrates.
    â€œHe did,” replied Dion. “He fought bravely for Athens for at least four years.”
    â€œIs there anyone who loves wisdom and justice more than Plato?” asked Socrates.
    â€œOnly you, Socrates,” said Theages.
    â€œIf that is true,” said Socrates, “it is only because I have loved them longer.”
    Socrates admiration for Plato seemed most genuine. Perhaps if I became a lover of wisdom and justice, I, too, would earn my husband’s approval.

10
    T HE DAY PASSED quickly with conversations here and there throughout the marketplace. Food and drink appeared with no apparent exchange of money. I quietly and gratefully soaked it all in, still wondering how one becomes a lover of wisdom.
    Thoughts and