I could see her sitting rather upright in her favourite blue dress, with her hands folded around a late rose one of them must have plucked. I guessed who had presented her with the flower. In his position, I would have tackled Albia with a packet of raisin pastry half-moons, but Glaucus was just a big lump of bone and muscle; he knew nothing about women and their weaknesses. I had been Cupid's personal representative on the Aventine once; years later it was still my job to understand women, especially the tricky ones. He should have spoken to me first.
Glaucus made his oration. a resume of his long-term plans to remain in Greece and travel to the whole series of the Panathenaic Games. One day, he hoped to return to Rome triumphantly as an Olympic champion. According to him, with the right support package and personal dedication, this was feasible. His father, my trainer, would put up the money and perhaps even come out to supervise his son's programme. Young Glaucus was now asking Albia
to stay here too, as his soulmate. Share his life, rub him with oil, encourage him.
Albia would make her own choice. I would have groaned in private and slunk off – but I could see Gaius and Cornelius hiding together behind an old cracked amphora containing a young fig tree. So far, Gaius had mastered the art of the silent guffaw, but that could not be relied upon. I stayed, ready to intervene.
Glaucus talked for far too long. He had clearly never done this before. I was amazed he could sustain such a long monologue. It remained one-sided, for Albia merely tucked her chin in, and listened with her dark head on one side. Planning his life was the young man's passion. Once he was cantering through the details, he couldn't bear to stop. If you liked sport, it was not too boring. If you hated sport, it was dire.
Finally Glaucus produced his master stroke. From a fold in his tunic he drew a small moving object. In the light of an oil lamp which hung from a pillar close by them, he showed Albia an owl he had captured in the courtyard. Beautifully feathered – but extremely annoyed – this was his solemn love-gift. Albia, a sensible girl, refused to take it and be pecked.
Glaucus then summed up his curriculum vitae again. The owl struggled between his enormous dark hands. Albia must be wanting to escape too. Gaius and Cornelius were wetting themselves with mirth, the rascals. I was preparing myself to stride across the courtyard and grab the boys by the necks of their tunics if their mockery exploded.
No need for that. Albia jumped to her feet briskly.
"That was very interesting. I will consider when I have time!' I winced. Young women are so brutal. Helena must have been giving her advice on how to keep men guessing. Albia pointed at the little owl. So Now Glaucus, your owl is very sweet but you had better let him go quickly. This is the symbol of Pallas Athena. But I have been told the Greeks are superstitious if an owl comes indoors. They nail it to the front door by the wings – alive!'
Albia skipped off. After a moment, the disconsolate Glaucus opened his palms and released the owl, which flew up to a roof furiously, feathers dishevelled. The boys scarpered. I slid unobtrusively towards an exit.
Only then did I see Aulus outlined in a dark doorway. If he saw me, he gave no sign of it, but quietly vanished.
LVII
Next day Helena and I made attempts to find the Seven Sights group in the agora. I was starting to think they must be sailing around the nearby islands, buying overpriced sponges at Aegina or fake vases with Trojan heroes from desultory potters on Hydria. Maybe Phineus and Polystratus had already whisked them off to Rhodes and all cultural points east.
That afternoon, once more we left the others and spent time together. This time we went a little way out of Athens, where the noisy crowds were bothering us. We hired a frisky two-wheel trap and saw the countryside. Eventually we came to Mount Hymettus, which despite clouds of dust from a marble quarry was famous for its honey. Inevitably it was girdled with honey-selling stalls. Helena did her duty and equipped us with many souvenirs. pots that looked like beehives and contained Hymettus honeycombs. Both our mothers would be delighted with these, or so we convinced ourselves in our desperation to find them presents.
We had brought Nux. Usually Albia was happy to take care of her, but Albia had seemed sulky today. I thought I had better explain that to Helena."We may be about to lose Albia.'
"To Young Glaucus? I don't think so,' said Helena."She says he will wear out his body with sport and die at twenty-seven.'
"That's rather precise! So is she yearning for somebody else?'
"She is not ready.' Helena was holding back. She shared her thoughts on most subjects with me, but could be secretive on matters of the heart.
"Not ready to yearn in general, or not ready to jump on someone in particular?'
"I am sure she has nobody in mind.'
"You mean, she hasn't finalised her scheme to get him yet?'
"Falco, you are so devious!'
Me?
Not devious enough to fix up what I wanted, anyway. This
afternoon idyll might have led to romance for Helena and me, but Nux put a stop to it. Ever tried even kissing your wife with a jealous dog watching? Don't bother. This was one foreign trip from which we would not be returning home expecting our next child after a hilltop conception. If we were ever to be respectable parents of three and win our extra social privileges, we would need to make better arrangements.
There were more hills whose scenery, since we had no option, we doggedly admired. On our way back to town, we reached Mount Lykabettus, a steep little crag which dominates the north-east of the city. We had seen it from the Parthenon; it must have excellent views right across to the sea.
"The Lyceum.' Helena's sightseeing notes were becoming terse."Aristotle.'
Even she was growing jaded now; this time she stayed with the cart, while I took Nux for a constitutional. The dog walked to heel rather quietly as we went uphill, as if whatever happened on the Corinth acropolis with Cleonymus had permanently subdued her.
It was another fine day, though I had sensibly brought my hat. Even so, I was glad when Nux and I turned a bend in the road and came upon a small thatched hut. A local was sitting cross-legged outside, perched on a small platform; it looked like a low seat that had lost its back. She too wore a hat, a high-pointed straw thing of quaint design, as if she had woven it inexpertly herself. Beside her stood a large water jar; passing travellers could stop here to buy a cold drink.
My heart took a leap. Unexpectedly I had found a witness. I must have finally caught up with the crone Gaius and Cornelius had met selling Peirene spring water on the way to Acrocorinth.
I approached quietly. Nux sat down and scratched herself. She always knew how to impose a casual tone on gatherings. A drink was poured for me in a decent sized beaker; I dropped coppers into the outstretched hand. Only then did the crone – as I assumed she would be – look up from under her eccentric hat to thank me. Now I had a second shock. No crone this; she was merely middle-aged and vague. It was Philomela.
"We meet again!'
"You do love cliches, Falco.'
I drank my water, savouring it thoughtfully. Nux was licking at the spout on the big water jar, so I poured more for her. The dog decided that if a drink was permitted, she did not want it.
"Silly girl, Nux! For some reason, I am now thinking longingly of my children; they are terrors too… Time to travel home, I think.'
"Then there is something I should say,' announced Philomela."I want to entrust a message to you, Falco. I want you to explain something to somebody in Rome.'
"Who? What? Something that happened where?'
"Olympia.'
Gaius and Cornelius had said their water-seller told them she had worked on the Hill of Cronus. Whatever Philomela was finally going to tell me, I knew it would be important.