youth, and one who is sworn to the goddess, as I am myself-though whether such a thing would please her as well, I cannot say.
But I can say, and I will, that it appeared to me that Pasicrates was not wholly insensible to the attractions of my person. (Unlike yourself, dear Latro, though I hesitate to write it.) We look upon these people, who live only for war and are forever training for battle, and think how comely they are. But what must they think, who hear for the first time, from our lips, the trumpets of eloquence and the deep-mouthed tocsins of philosophy? Must not they think us as far above common men as we think them? So (as I dare to hope) does the messenger of the great regent think your poor friend-
Eurykles of Miletos
CHAPTER XXVI-Pasicrates
The regent's messenger has restored my scroll to me. He sought me out this morning and asked whether I recalled meeting with him the night before. I do not remember that now; but I must have when we spoke, since I told him I did.
He said, 'Then you know I'm Pausanias's runner.'
I nodded and said I was surprised he did not leave our plodding march to return with word from Eutaktos.
'The only order I brought was that he should continue the search if he has not found you, and return with all speed if he had. It's you Pausanias wants to see, not me. If I were to run back, could you keep pace with me?'
I confessed I did not know but said I would try.
'Then we'll race to the tree on that hill and see who shows the best heels.'
He no sooner spoke than he was off like an arrow. I followed as fast as I could, and my legs are longer than his; but I never overtook him, and he had time to halt at the tree and turn to study me before I came pounding up.
'You might run to Megara at that,' he said. 'But look at this poor tortoise.' It was Basias, the man whose tent I share, doing his best in his cuirass and greaves and waving his sword.
Pasicrates called, 'You can't touch us with that! Get a longer blade!' Seeing that we were not deserting the column, Basias slowed to a walk.
'Want to sit here?' Pasicrates asked. 'They have to tramp up this hill anyway.' His face had that relentless regularity we find so attractive in a statue's, but his eyes seemed as cruel as a stoat's. As though I had not seen their look, I threw myself down in the shade.
'How did you lose your memory? Do you know?'
I shook my head.
'Perhaps the child does, or that Eurykles.'
'Who are they?'
'Friends of yours that Eutaktos brought along. I talked to them yesterday. Come to think of it, Io was there when I talked with you-the little slave. She's yours, she says.'
I said, 'I remember the child, but not her name.'
'What about Eurykles?'
I shook my head again.
'When I got here, I wondered why Eutaktos had bothered with them. I understand now.'
We spoke no more after that until Basias reached us.
'Just a foot race,' Pasicrates told him. 'I don't think my job's in danger, but Latro can replace me if I'm wounded.'
Basias nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his finger and flinging it away. 'Wrestler, too.'
'You've tried him?'
Red-faced and panting, Basias dropped beside us. 'Beat him. Five falls, though. He's strong.'
'He looks it. How much do you know about him?'
'Forgets. Got a slave girl. I've got his sword. That's all.'
'I see. Latro, what's my name?'
'Pasicrates.'
'Right. How'd you know?'
'You told me,' I said.
Basias explained, 'In the morning he remembers everything after we camped. But it goes. By noon he won't remember anything before he woke.'
'And the child remembers for him?'
'He had a book. It says read this each morning, but we can't read the rest. Eutaktos had me take it.'
'I want you to give it back-I'll have a word with Eutaktos. Latro, if you had your book again, would you read it for me?'
I said, 'If you want to hear it.'
'Or for Pausanias, the regent of Rope?'
'Of course.'
'Good. I don't think I'll have you do it yet, because there might be something there he wouldn't wish me to know. We'll see tonight when we reach Megara. Basias, what about Eurykles? Does he help Latro too?'
'A bit. Not so much as the child.'
'What do you think of him?'
Basias grinned. 'He better stay out of sight in Rope. The women'll kill him.'
'He bothers me,' Pasicrates said half to himself.
'Hit him and he won't.'
'Not like that. Latro, among us it's customary for each older man to have a younger friend. You understand? It's a good system. The younger man learns more. If he gets into trouble, he's got someone to speak for him. This isn't the same thing.'
Absently, I asked what it was. I was watching a scarlet wildflower nod in the breeze; it seemed charged with meaning.
'Like a man with a daughter. Except that the daughter's the man himself.'
Basias said, 'Bet you've plenty after you.'
'Certainly.' Pasicrates had been lying on his back on the sparse grass. Now he sat up. 'I'm Pausanias's protege, and they like that. That's why it seems so familiar. And yet so strange. I wish he were a slave.'
Basias asked why, but Pasicrates did not. answer After a moment he said, 'His hands are cold. Have you noticed?'
Not long after, the marchers caught up with us and we fell in with the rest. I moved among them looking for the child Pasicrates had mentioned, and soon found her. To test my grasp of what I had heard, I said, 'I have good news, Io. I'm going to get my scroll back.'
'That's wonderful, and you knew my name!'
'Pasicrates told me.'
'And he said Eutaktos is going to let you have it again?'
'Yes. Except that I don't think Eutaktos knows it. Pasicrates will order him to.'
Io looked doubtful. 'Eutaktos is a lot older.'
'I know,' I told her.
When we had walked a few more stades, a tall woman in a purple cloak handed me this scroll, with the stylus I am using thrust through the cords. 'Here, Latro,' she said. 'The lochagos ordered Basias to return it. I'd been keeping it for him, and I said I'd bring it.' She slipped an arm through mine.
'It was Pasicrates,' Io whispered to her.
'Really? He's quite a handsome youth, but not as handsome as your master.'
'What does that have to do with it?'
