Tasso’s Journey

With each step forward, Tasso saw Mandini’s face, smiling. In his memory, he saw her smirk the first time he called her by that nickname. Diamanto Laskari was her full name, as he learned the blessed day they met. But she would always be “Mandini” to him. Agreeing to marriage without sight of the bride was a risk for any man, but the name Laskari was long respected for generations. Tasso, one of three brothers and a sister, avoided the selection of a wife as long as possible. Unusually tall, with generous locks of jet black hair, Anastasios Stamatopoulos, or Tasso, as his friends called him, stood like a giant. He could have had the pick of any young girl from neighboring villages. But when an older cousin visited Tasso in Magoula on the way to Sparta one afternoon years ago, he became interested in the little woman named Diamanto.
“You’ll like her. I promise!” The cousin pleaded as Tasso’s mother stood nearby, eavesdropping.
“She’s a bit older,” he confessed. “Yet beautiful none the less.”
“How old?” she barked, seeming to quickly dispel any bad deal bestowed upon him. “He wants children, you know! Why isn’t she married already? What’s wrong with her?”
Tasso was embarrassed of her unending questions.
“Just meet her!” The eager cousin put a hand on his arm, a gentle gesture he knew was meant to block out his mother’s objections.
Tasso agreed, and the next day, the older cousin arranged for a secret meeting between he and Diamanto. Even the girl’s relatives were unaware of the rendezvous. Typically, the entire Greek family was present at such pivotal moments in a young couple’s life, but Tasso was glad the old man put one over on both families, letting the two of them meet one another without watchful eyes of others. In a grove outside Mistras, the old man said he needed Diamanto to help him pick figs his field. Tasso was instructed to come at noon. He had been in the process of building a chicken coop for the older cousin, and was coming to finish the roof.
The cousin expressed empathy for the girl whose previously failed engagement left her unmarried well into her twenties, an unfortunate status for any young woman. Recognizing the matchmaker’s attempt, Tasso saw no harm in getting a sneak preview before the negotiations between their families went any further.
Tasso approached the field right as the sun peaked overhead, its intense heat putting the area in a blinding haze. There was a girl standing beside a fig tree with a basket on the ground next to her feet. She was pretty, and very petite. He half-laughed to himself at their immense difference in stature. When he got closer, the girl put her eyes to the ground, and Tasso guessed she was waiting for a formal introduction. The old man must have forgotten his manners as he immediately began to boast about Tasso’s skills of builder and craftsman, blatantly selling Tasso’s attributes to the innocent, prospective bride without the expected formality.
“I’ll be happy to see the project finished only if it meets your standards,” Tasso attempted to stop the old man’s rant. When he said this, the girl’s head picked up. She looked at him with kind eyes and smiled, obviously taking note of the old man’s poor attempt to make this encounter look accidental.
Tasso climbed a ladder and began inspecting his project, uneasily waiting for an introduction.
The girl stayed by the tree, busily picking figs until finally the old man called out, “Oh my! Forgive me sweetheart, I’ve been so improper! Come meet Tasso, my younger cousin from Magoula. His father was my mother’s second cousin from Astros. We spent summers together in Sparta years ago.”
Tasso climbed down from the ladder and wiped his hands on a rag from his back pocket.
“Tasso, may I introduce you to Diamanto Laskari of Vassara, daughter of Kotso and Georgia.” The old man turned to the girl, “Diamanto, this is Anastasios Stamatopoulos of Magoula, Sparta.”
“Pleased to meet you. Please call me Tasso.” He smiled as Diamanto returned his look and nodded, stretching a wide grin. He liked her instantly.
Their exchanges were few but polite for the next hour or so, until the old man stepped away to water his donkey, another of the matchmaker’s tricks to give them privacy. When the old man didn’t return after a few minutes, Tasso became worried, and left Diamanto alone to look for him. Returning to the cart laughing, he informed Diamanto that her chaperone for the afternoon had fallen asleep in the shade. He suggested they too move out of the sun and share the lunch tied up in satchels in the cart. He was eager to have time alone with the pretty girl from Vassara.
They stretched out a cloth under an olive tree nearby, shaded, but close enough to the cart and the old man. Diamanto spread out the kasseri and feta cheeses, bread, tomatoes and melon.
“Would you care for something?” Diamanto held out a piece of bread to Tasso.
“After you.” Tasso insisted. She smiled and looked downward, obviously trying to hide her grin. Tasso could sense the girl was nervous, so he tried to put her at ease.
“Your uncle tells me you are also from Vassara. Is the village as beautiful as people say?”
“Vassara is the most beautiful. Perhaps not as exciting as a city like Sparta, but breathtaking in its views of Parnonas.” When she talked about her birthplace, Diamanto seemed to relax. Tasso let her continue, describing her hometown in great detail. He could only stare at her beauty. Diamanto’s demeanor was that of a blissful, yet humble girl. When she smiled, the shine in her eyes made him calm and happy.
“Vassara sounds incredible. Perhaps I can visit someday,” he suggested.
“That would be nice.” She blushed, then laughed.
Regardless of her petite frame, she seemed to be a giant in warmth and honesty. He didn’t care about her age. In fact, twenty-three quite suited him for a bride, as she was still younger than his twenty-eight. Whatever broken arrangements from past betrothals were his gain now. Then she surprised him by saying, “You know, I’m not the youngest of girls from Vassara. There are others much more suited in age for marriage.”
Pleased by her openness, he replied, “Suited in age perhaps, but not for me. Your uncle told me of your broken betrothal. I regret your misfortune.” There was a momentary silence. Then he continued,
“You were fond of him?” He looked directly into her eyes.
“I didn’t know him.” she said. “He was the son of my uncle’s friend.”
Tasso exhaled; relieved to know she wasn’t harboring old feelings for another man. Surprisingly, Diamanto offered more, “When the dowry failed to arrive in time from my older sister in America, his parents broke the engagement.” She paused again. “I was told the boy asked for the marriage to proceed even without the money, but his parents refused.”
Tasso, imagining his own mother’s strict expectations, related to the boy’s predicament.
“God has a way of bestowing many blessings on us throughout our lives. I believe great things await you.” He placed his large hand over hers.
When the old man woke up, he joined the pair as they finished the homemade wine. His cousin appeared content with his successful scheme. Likewise, Tasso felt a warm glow of happiness run through his body. The rest would be easy, he thought as he put his arm around his cousin, giving a tight squeeze of appreciation as they prepared to part ways.
“Thank for working on the roof, Tasso. I knew your talents would not disappoint me.”
“I thank you,” said Tasso, This is sure to be the highlight of my day.” He looked straight at Diamanto as he spoke. She beamed at him.
“It would be my pleasure to see you again, Miss Laskari.”
He tried to memorize the details of her face. When their cart trotted away, there was a pull at his heart, one that returned every time he and his Mandini parted