*
Doso stayed.
In the end, it was as simple as that. Oh, Callithoe knew the story had more twists and turns than that: whispered conversations, sly tests, and even pleading tears, on Cleisidice's part. Cleisidice, who had formed an immediate attachment to the unfortunate woman. Doso, she had discovered, had escaped the pirates by hiding by the stern-cables when the boat had been put ashore for the evening.
The more pressing reason for Doso's place here, however, had to do with Metaneira's need to care for both Iambe and Demophon. Demophon, a five year old menace of endless energy and mischief.
"You are blessed among mortals, young Demophon," said Doso, when first she met him, out in the garden. The workmen barely kept it alive by toting water in jugs from the thin trickle of a river beyond.
Doso's pronouncement caused Demophon to stop in the midst of dashing after an arthritic old hunting dog that had once accompanied Celeus across the marshes. He looked up at Doso, all brown inquisitive eyes and chubby cheeks, his hair a wild riot of curls.
"What's a mortal?" he asked.
Doso, scrubbed clean and wearing a blue peplos that mother had given her, smiled at him. "A mortal is something that lives and breathes and rejoices in all that this flawed and wondrous world has to offer."
"'Joices?" he asked skeptically. "I don't 'joice."
For indeed, Demophon always let it be known that he disagreed with whatever one was telling him at the time.
Doso bent near, as though to whisper a secret. Demophon inclined his head to listen. Instead, Doso wrinkled up her nose and, making pincers of her fingers, seized Demophon by the middle and tickled him until he howled with laughter.
"Not 'joicing," he protested. "Not 'joicing!"
But he could not resist the tickles, and Doso could not resist smiling.
The expression looked so unusual on her. Sorrow had seemed etched in the delicate skin around her eyes.
"You are rejoicing even now, little man!" she teased.
Demophon shrieked and dashed around a statue of Apollo, one eye over his shoulder in a clear invitation for Doso to chase him.
The smile still on her lips, Doso lumbered after him like a great old mother bear.
The Ruling Elite and Other Stories Page 9
