Sorry guys for the long wait. Whole bunch of stuff happened. Don't even wanna say it.
Here's you long awaited continuation of the Apollodoros Drama.
Warning: Contains mature themes. You may not agree with everything.
Come back, Dorian. My father's voice echoed in my head. Apollodoros, you come back here. Whenever my father called me by my full name, it was always serious.
I don't understand any of it. I was coming home from my studies in the academy, followed by Philo, a servant who supervised me. I was stopped by my friend, Euclid at the square. Philo stepped aside, watching me distantly. We spoke trivial matters until a man walked up to me.
"Greetings, sweet youth," he serenaded, "Beautiful youth. Would you accompany me for a walk?" Knowing what is expected of me and from my father, I was about to politely decline his offer when Philo swooped in and carried me away. I struggled and squirmed, but his grip would not fail. Then we went straight to my house and my father threw a fit.
"What do you think you were doing," he roared. "Do you know what he could have done? Foolhardy, as always. Why me, gods in Olympus above, why me?" I was about to reply that I would have declined his offer, it was what was expected of me, but the old man would not stop. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out the door and didn't look back, ignoring my father's calls.
Now I was here in a garden a while away from my house. I savored this bit of paradise in the city of Delos. I would come home later, I always did, and I was sure to receive a horde of beatings for running. But I needed to calm my nerves. Sometimes my father was too much. After all, I never had a mother. From the start, I knew Aristides never sired me, that I was adopted from a family that was only too happy to be rid of me. Of course, I was born on the island, a citizen of Delos, son of the acclaimed artist Aristides of Delos. And from the beginning, I was expected to live up to my father's image.
My lessons consisted of the usual natural sciences, rhetoric, sophistry, geometry, and astronomy, all lessons offered to youths my age from wealthy families like my father. But I was also expected to follow his footsteps as an artist. My skills in marble sculpture, his signature profession, were not satisfactory. Of course I was only an amateur yet he pushed for perfection. My skills in music were less encouraging and pottery was out of the question.
My best seemed to be in athletics. I am only fourteen years of age but already I outrun boys two years my senior. And my skills at discus are promising as well. Yet this was not enough for my father. Focus less on the body and more on the mind. I was expected to excel in all my lessons. And worse, my father was competitive. If another boy was my better in rhetoric, I wasn't trying hard enough. My shortcomings in music where others excelled were the result of laziness.
Worse yet was other men. Greeks are infamous in the known world for our acceptance of homosexuality, of the love between two men. Barbarians all over criticize our practice of pederasty, the relationship between an adult man and a boy. Don't let the term "boy" fool you. These "boys" were as young as fourteen and as old as eighteen. We could hardly be called children, given that we experience the changes of sexual maturity and can make many adult decisions. Almost every man, those married or bachelors, fathers and childless, was part of a pederast relationship, either as the suitor, called the erastes, or as the beloved, or eromenos. It was a part of growing up in Greece.
To the defense of my people's customs, I must explain the circumstances of these relationships. Yes they were of a romantic nature and quite often they took on a sexual form. But there were laws that protected the youth from being exploited. Certain boundaries couldn't be crossed. And besides the sexual aspect, the relationship has a more practical purpose. The erastes, the suitor, was more than a lover, he was also a mentor. He taught his eromenos, his beloved, how to be a part of community life. He taught him how to take part in politics, how to deal with law, all the social taboos of our culture. And if the man was skilled in a profession or art, the beloved could serve as an apprentice. These relationships were needed to be functioning members of society.
My father knows full well the purpose of these relationships. He knew the benefits of it. He knew full well I knew what was expected of me. Like a maiden, I couldn't just give in to any suitor. I had to be discrete, prudent, and conscientious. I wouldn't sell myself cheaply like a common whore. Like any other son of a wealthy artisan, I would only choose the best. By denying me the freedom to be in a relationship, my father was holding me back. Yet, my father will not hear or speak of it. He's not just frightened of male attention of the sexual kind but any male attention. He has Philo watch my teacher, Hermogenes, carefully in case the relationship even hinted at something more than mentor and student. My father had taken me out of three schools already for such suspicions. He even watches the servants to make sure no secret fraternizations took place under his own roof. Like I would dare choose a slave as a lover. His paranoia is ridiculous.
But so deep was I in my thoughts that I didn't notice the man next to me.
"Excuse me, are you well," asked a melodious voice. I turned and saw the most beautiful young man. He was tall and fit, in top condition. An athlete perhaps. Had to be so, his skin was browned by regular exposure to sunlight. His curly hair was a golden color, like sunlight. An aristocratic nose and sensual lips defined his face as well as angular features. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, although it could be the goatee on his chin. Most awe-inspiring were his eyes. They were sharp in shape, almost piercing like one who could see all, yet his brown eyes and crow's feet wrinkles suggested a warm person who smiled a lot. Absolute perfection.
So awestruck was I that I forgotten how to speak and stared like an idiot. But this man, apparently used to his impact on people chuckled. I almost melted. Then he reached out and placed a hand on my shoulders. I woke from my trance and babbled like a fool. Finally I collected myself.
"Yes, I am well." The stranger chuckled.
"Thank goodness. For a while I thought I had to seek help for you." We both chuckled at the statement, I did so nervously.
"Dear youth, do you know of an Aristides of Delos?" There was a subtle tone to his question, almost like he was playing with me.
"I do know so, he is my father," I answered, proud for once of my famous father. The man smiled, it was a smile that had all the warmth of the sun.
"How delightful, I have come from far to meet with your father. I am a client wishing to make business with him. Could you take me to him? It's getting late already."
Note: Finally after all this time. Sorry for the delay. Few words before the flames. No, I don't support pederasty, or any form of pedophilia. I do support homosexual relationships and thought that such a theme would be interesting to write about. I know I am a procrastinator. And I don't answer comments often although I like to read them. That I all.