Aphrodite ’ s Cleft
Mark Mellon
" Eat up , my boy . Young men must eat , especially after a daylong ride ."
Papa Nikon took his own advice and dug into his trencher . He and the young
man made short work of the chicken with potatoes Nikon ' s cook prepared . Nikon had
removed his bulbous , black headdress and sat at the rough hewn table with the top
buttons undone on his plain black cassock . Thin gray hair was compensated for by an
ample , mid-chest beard . They sat in Nikon ' s three room , stone house , the only
substantial structure in Paleothea aside from the small Orthodox church beside it .
Nikon ' s brown eyes danced with intelligence and curiosity . " Do you like our
crude fare , McCrae ?"
" This is the best meal I have eaten in days , Papa Nikon ," McCrae Spenser
responded in his best Etonian Classical Greek .
" Do you hear that , Eleutheria ?" Nikon shouted outside . " The Ingiliz thinks well of
your cooking ."
Dressed from head to toe in black , the old crow who cooked for Nikon raucously
laughed in the backyard .
" Have more wine ."