The Art of Manliness

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The Zhang and di Angelo families feverishly worked to finish harvesting. Their landlords were expected to come in a couple weeks. Frank and Hazel spent more time apart, each one working to help their family. Frank helped his grandmother and mother finish harvesting the onions. Hazel sorted olives with Maria and later pressed it into oil with Nico.

    Across the countryside, everyone was busier than normal. Hazel missed going out with her sheep. They were staying closer to the house now. The air was cooler now and brisk winds often scorched the earth, ruffling her hair and chilling her bones. Soon, the sheep wouldn't be eating grass at all, but subside on the hay and grains they had stored all the summer long.

     Their wooly coats had grown back, thicker than ever for the promise of a bitterly cold winter. Every morning, Hazel woke up shivering beside her brother and sister despite the blanket they shared between them. Mrs. O'Learey had taken to curling up beside Nico and her rhythmic snores lulled them all to sleep. At dawn, she would be the first one up, nose perking towards the sky at the promise of a new day.

After they had finished pressing the olive into oil, Hades instructed them on cleaning the house. He and Hazel checked on the cheeses that were maturing in time for winter. Some of it would go to their landlord. Though Hades lived a great distance from any city, he and his family were technically slaves. Much like helots were bound to their land, Hades could not choose to move if he so wished and a great proportion of what he made went to Athena.

     The visit was important this year not only because the annual inspection, but because he needed to get Athena's permission so Bianca could become a priestess. There was all the question of Hazel's marriage. Whoever he decided on would have to be approved by Athena. This rankled him and was one of the reasons he was so picky in choosing his daughter's future husband. Why easily assent if the man had to jump through another hoop to win her hand?

     These worries weighed on Hades as he ordered his family to clean up their house. They swept everyday and washed their pottery until it gleaned. They polished and oiled their metal tools and trimmed the overgrown shrubs near their house. He wanted it to look at best as it could in time for the annual inspection, so that Athena would be disposed to grant his requests.

     Hazel was proud of the work she had done with the sheep and she took care to pick thistles and burrs from their costs in the morning. Their wool was as soft as clouds and Hazel was sure that when Athena tasted the sweet milk and cheese they produced, she'd be thrilled.

    Still, she was sad because each year some of the flock was led off to be sacrificed to the gods and she would give them a last hug, tears streaming from her eyes before they were led away. Hazel was no Pythagorean, but she swore off sheep and goat meat lest she unintentionally eat her friends. So it was with mingled trepidation and excitement that she awaited the annual inspection.

***

    Frank and his family were similarly busy cleaning up his house. Poseidon was a merchant whose fleet of ships had made him as rich as a Persian satrap. He was said to live lavishly, preferring a seaside estate above all his other houses. Some years he was the one who came, but he often sent a freedman in his service to do the work for him.

"Remember to keep your posture straight and your mouth smart, Fai," Frank's grandmother would remind him.

Frank's family were free born, but they rented the land, so it was good to make a good impression on whomever Poseidon send as his envoy. Sometimes the envoys were kind and shared news from the city, but other times they were brutish men who dealt harshly with tenants.

As the day of their arrival grew closer, Frank became more and more anxious. One evening, his mother sat firm beside him and said they must speak. Frank turned his head towards her. "What is troubling you?" Emily asked her son. "Is it the envoy?"

Frank nodded, his cheeks coloring. "I feel ashamed to feel afraid over such silly things. My father braved war and I freak out over some freedman."

He sighed and Emily placed one hand on her son's shoulder. "Your father was afraid sometimes."

Frank looked up in shock as his mother continued. "Your father was no fool — he feared war."

Franks brows knit together. "Then why did he enlist voluntarily in it?"

Mars had been a mercenary and he died in the Pelonoepissian War. He was a brilliant soldier by all accounts, but his mercenary status meant he never rose in prominence. He earned himself kleos instead by fighting with the kind of courage that inspired men.

Emily wet her lips. "Your father found himself through war. He enjoyed it — yes, but he enjoyed the comradeship and the strategy as much as the actual fighting. He knew war was dangerous and this made him courageous. Many men can be brave and act without fear, but he went into battle with fear and that gave him all the strength he needed."

Frank blinked. "Why are you telling me this, mother?"

"Because one day, you'll find yourself facing your fears," Emily answered, "and when that day comes, I know you'll be like your father and rise to the occasion."

She gave him a kiss on the forehead and stood up, leaving him to collect his thoughts. He had grown up believing his father had never felt fear. Now, he knew that wasn't true and he felt as if some icicle in his heart had melted. Courage wasn't born in a man — it was made — and Frank decided that he could cultivate it in himself.

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