possible sliver of moon peeped between the clouds and left shadows beneath the walls, and the heat had passed. The air was soft, perfumed by the flowers Kalleos had bought that afternoon.
I was sweeping near a corner where there were many urns holding many flowers, when a woman's hand stroked my shoulder. I turned to see who she was, but her face was lost in the shadows. She said, 'Come, child of war. Do that later, or never.'
Knowing what she wanted, I laid my broom on the flagstones and sought her among the blossoms, not finding her until she showed herself to me by kindling a silver lamp shaped like a dove, which hung over the couch in her chamber.
I cannot remember what women I have possessed. Perhaps there have been none. I know that for me tonight she was the first-that no other would have been real beside her, that our joy endured while cities rose and fell, and that while I clasped her the breezes of spring blew perpetually.
My lover was half woman and half child, her cheeks and all her flesh rose-tinted in the roseate light from the dove, slender yet round of limb, her breasts small but perfect, her eyes like the skies of summer, her hair like fire, like butter, like night, ripe with myriad perfumes. 'You forget,' she said. 'But you will remember me.'
I nodded because I could not speak. I do not think I could have lifted my hand.
'I am more lovely than my rival. Three faces she has, but none like mine. You have forgotten her; you will never forget me.'
'Never.' Her chamber was hung with crimson velvet; it seemed to glow in the dim light.
'And I am lovelier far than Kore, the Maiden.' Her voice grew bitter. 'Not long ago, I gave my favor to a poor creature called Myrrha. Better I had withheld it. Her own father bore her down, and she became a tree, a speechless thing with wooden limbs.' A horned doorman fluttered wide, white sleeves to ensure our privacy. 'Yet she bore him a child, the fairest ever seen. I locked it in a chest-so you would call it-to keep it safe, for I had lovers who would have used it like a woman.'
I nodded, though I would rather she had talked of love.
'I trusted her-that vile girl who calls herself the Maiden, though her legs clasp Hades. She opened the chest and stole the child. I begged for justice, but she kept it four moons each year. At last it died, and from its blood sprang this blood-red blossom where we lie.'
I said, 'I would lie here forever, for every kiss of yours is new to me.'
'Yet you will not, O my lover. Soon, how soon you must go! But you will not forget me, nor what I say.'
Then she whispered in my ear, repeating the same thing again and again in many ways. I cannot write it here, because I do not remember what it was-and it seems to me that even as I heard her words they were lost; but perhaps they only sank into some part of me where memory does not go. She showed me an apple of gold and spun the dove to make its light play upon that apple.
Then she was gone, and her chamber too, and I was left leaning on my broom in the cold court. The moon glowed high overhead, a crescent glyph cupping some meaning I did not comprehend.
I got one of the lamps and searched among the flowers for the door to her room; when I found it, it was only a crimson anemone, half-open, before which fluttered a tiny white moth.
With my hand I brushed him away and held it up, and it seemed to me the heart of the blossoms held a spark of laughter, but perhaps it was only a tear of dew.
A woman touched my shoulder. It was Kalleos, her breath heavy with wine because she had been drinking with the men.
'You don't have to worry about that, Latro,' she said. 'Poking among the flowers with a light. Get it tomorrow, when you can see what you're doing. Put away that broom and come with me. You're a fine figure of a man, know that?'
'Thank you,' I said. 'What is it you want, madame?'
'Only your arm to get me to my door. I'm ready for my bed tonight, by every god, and I'll sleep like a chalcis. I've a skin in there, Latro, and I'll give you a drink before you go. It isn't right that you should work all the time and never get to party.'
I took her to her room, where she sat on her bed, her weight making the straps creak under the mattress until I thought they must break. She told me where the wineskin was and had me pour cups for us both; and while I was drinking mine, she blew out the lamp.
'I'm at that age when a woman looks best in the dark,' she said. 'Come and sit with me.'
My hand brushed her naked breast.
'Surely you know how to put your arm around a woman?'
It was not completely dark. I had left the door open a crack, and a thread of light from the silver dove stole in, whispering something too faint for me to hear. Kalleos had let her robe fall to her hips, and I could see her white breasts and the rounded bulge that ended in the dark cloth of her robe. I felt they should disgust me now, but they did not. Rather it seemed that in some way Kalleos was the woman in the anemone, as a word written is the spoken word, and not just a dirty smudge upon the papyrus.
'Kiss me,' she said. 'And let me lay down.'
I did as she told me, then took off her sandals and pulled her gown away from her legs.
By that time she was snoring. I went out, shutting the door behind me, and came here to my own place, where I write these words.
CHAPTER XXI-Eutaktos
The lochagos knocked as I was serving the first meal today. Kalleos moaned. 'That's trouble, I'm sure of it.'
Zoe, who had been boasting about the big tip she had been given the night before, said, 'It might be good news. You never know.'
'Anything that happens before dark is bad news when you've got a headache. When you're my age, you'll understand.'
The knocking grew louder. Phye said, 'That's not knuckles. He's pounding with something.'
It had been the grounding iron of a spear, as I learned when I opened the door. Eutaktosk and half a dozen shieldmen shouldered their way in. Their hoplons and cuirasses protected their bellies, but their helmets were pushed back, and I was able to hit one in the neck and throw Eutaktos over my hip before the rest got their spears leveled. I threw my chair and drew my sword, and the women began to scream. Eutaktos was up again and had his own sword out, with Io hanging from his sword arm and crying, 'Don't kill him!'
He shook her off. 'We won't, unless he runs on the spears. Who's master here?'
Kalleos came forward, wearing the expression she used when the women threw food. 'I am, and that's my slave you're talking about killing. If you kill him, you'll pay for him. Nine minas he cost me not a month ago, and I have a receipt signed by a leading citizen.'
'You're no daughter of Hellen's.'
'I didn't say I was a citizen,' Kalleos answered with dignity. 'I said the man I spoke of is. He's at sea in command of a squadron of our warships at this very moment. As for me, as a freedwoman and a resident foreigner I am protected by our laws.'
Eutaktos looked sourly from her to me. 'How many men here?'
'Right now? Three. Why do you want to know?'
'Get the rest.'
Kalleos shrugged and told Phye, 'Bring in Lalos and Leon.'
'You there.' Eutaktos pointed to me with his sword. 'Quick! Name the man who sold you.'
I shook my head.
Io said, 'Hypereides, sir. Please don't hurt Latro-he can't remember.'
The shieldmen, who had been nudging one another and winking while they stared at the women, fell silent as though someone had given a command. Eutaktos lowered his sword and sent it rasping back into the scabbard. 'You say he doesn't remember, little girl?'
Suddenly abashed, Io nodded.
