Homer’s Daughter by Robert Graves Page A

grown, Glauce,” shouted one of my maids, pointing at the plump stomach of a weaving-woman. “For shame, and your wedding not for another month! Did this happen at the Ascent of Aphrodite?”
    â€œI’ll drown you for that!” answered Glauce. “Don’t you know honest fat from dishonest? I keep only beans and good bread and figs inside.”
    â€œHere, let me feel! No, child, you can’t deceive me! There’s more here than ever went in at your mouth. Who is the fortunate father?”
    They tussled, screamed, pulled each other’s hair, and laughed wildly. Glauce soon forced her opponent under the water, holding her down by the shoulders. “So you think I behave like your friend Melantho!” she yelled. “Is that it?”
    â€œLet her go, Glauce,” I ordered. “The joke has gone far enough.”
    Up came the maid, choking and spluttering, and pretended to be thoroughly subdued; but soon she caught Glauce off her guard, and pushed her backwards into a pool. It was only high spirits, and neither bore the other any ill will. However, I took Glauce aside to ask her: “What did you say just now?”
    â€œNothing, mistress.”
    â€œGlauce, that is untrue. You were angry for a moment, and said more than you intended. I know, because you looked guiltily around to see whether I had overheard.”
    â€œI bear Melantho no grudge.”
    Then the Goddess Athene put these words into my mouth: “Yet it was about Melantho that you weavers were gossiping when I visited the factory yesterday morning.”
    â€œI did not gossip, mistress.”
    â€œGlauce: tell me the truth, or I shall take one of those cudgels and bang you across the face until your own mother will ask ‘Who can this be?’”
    â€œI swear by all the Gods that I did not gossip! I only listened.”
    â€œVery well, then, what did you hear?”
    â€œLies, I daresay. It must have been a lie. You know how much scandal is talked in the market place.”
    â€œIndeed, I do; but I insist on hearing what this particular scandal was! Melantho is the daughter of our cattlemaster Melantheus and also the Lady Ctimene’s maid; I am bound to protect her good name.”
    I frightened the truth out of Glauce. One hot day, it seems, at siesta time, Melantho had been seen stealthily leaving a boathouse on the far side of the southern harbour, and though nobody knew whether she had enjoyed anyone’s company there, three days later she was wearing a valuable gold bracelet. She claimed to have found this in the vegetable patch behind her cottage when she went to pull a lettuce, and to have got Melantheus’s permission to keep it.
    I asked Glauce: “To whom does the boathouse belong?”
    â€œI am not sure.”
    â€œWell, to whom do they say that it belongs? All marketplace stories are circumstantial.”
    â€œPlease, mistress…”
    â€œThe cudgel is handy; what do you say?”
    â€œThat your suitor, my lord Eurymachus, owns it.”
    â€œVery good, Glauce. Like you, I refuse to believe this story, but it is always best to know what people are saying.” I forced a gay laugh, and shouted: “Now, girls, out you come! Wash off the brine in the spring water and then anoint yourselves. I have the oil, and scallop shells make useful scrapers.”
    So we trooped back to the Springs, where we washed,anointed and scraped ourselves, dressed our hair, and set the cloth for dinner. The wine was strong, and though I had tempered it well, the girls grew excited and wanted to dance, even after eating like mares in a clover field.
    â€œNot now,” I said. “This is when you rest. But if you will promise to keep quiet until the shadow from this stick touches the edge of that stone, I will join you in the ball dance afterwards.”
    They all lay down obediently and dozed. I stayed awake, watching the shadow creep slowly towards the stone,