Why? She was my dinner partner-and (if I could rely on an exchange I had heard that afternoon) willing to be my guest wife if I were willing. Willing? Fifty years earlier I had offered her any contract she would accept every time she let me visit her and had finally shut up only after she had told me repeatedly, patiently, and gently that she did not intend to have more children and would not marry again for any other purpose.
But there she was, rejuvenated (not that it mattered), looking gloriously young and healthy-and a colonist. I wondered who the man was who had persuaded her to do this? I envied him and wondered what superhuman qualities he possessed-but whatever they were, if Tamara was willing to share a bed with me even for one night and only for old times' sake, I would take what the gods offered and not worry about him; her wealth is endlessly divisible. Tamara!-bells sound at her name.
She kissed two wet little girls, then dropped to her knees and kissed me.
Then she said softly, rubbing her mouth against mine, "You darling. When I heard you were here, I hurried. Mi laroona d' vashti meedth du?"
"Yes! And any other night you have free."
"Not so fast with English, doreeth mi; I learning it slowly-because my daughter wants her assistants in rejuvenation to speak language not known to most clients...and because our family speaks English much as Galacta."
"You are now a rejuvenator? And have a daughter here?"
"lshtar datter mi-did you not know, petsan mi-mi? Nay, I am nurse only. But studying I am and Ishtar hope-tells that I will be assistant technician in half handful of years. Good- nay?"
"Good, I suppose. But what a loss to the art!"
"Blandjor," she said happily, tousling my wet hair. "Even though rejuvenated-did you note?-here the art pays no living. Too many willing ones, sweeter and younger and prettier." The twins had stayed with us, listening and quiet for a moment. Tamara reached out both arms, hugged them to her. "Example. These my granddaughters. Eager to grow tall so they can lie down and be short." She kissed each of them. "And red curls they have. I not have."
I started to say that age and red curls did not matter, then realized that a compliment to Tamara so phrased could cause chins to quiver. But I did not need to speak; the spout had opened again:
"Aunt Tammy, we are not eager-"
"-just willing and practical-"
"-and anyhow he won't marry us-"
"-he just teases about it-"
"-and you can't be our grandmother-"
"-'cause that would make you our Buddy Boy's grandmother-"
"-which is illogical, impossible, and ridiculous-"
"-so you have to be our 'Aunt Tammy.'"
I found their logic doubly enthymematic if not a total non sequitur, but I agreed with it because the notion of Tamara being the Senior's grandmother was one I could not face. So I changed the subject:
"Tamara dear, would you let me take off your sandals and then you come join us in the soak? Or shall I get out and get dry?"
She did not have to answer:
"We gotta run get ready-"
"-cause Mama Hamadryad has finished her face and started her nipples-"
"-so if we don't hurry, we'll have to come to dinner with our hides bare naked-"
"-and for a party that would never do-"
"-and you two had better hurry too-"
"-or Buddy Boy will throw it to the pigs. Scuse!"
I climbed out and let Tamara dry me-unnecessary as there was a blowdry at hand. But if Tamara offers me anything my answer is Yes. It took a while; we "wasted" time on touch and talk. (Is there a better way to spend time?)
When I was dry and wondering if I should try the cosmetics bench (I don't use cosmetics much, just depilatories), one of the twins came rushing back with a garment for me, a blue chlamys. She said breathlessly, "Lazarus says try this or what would you like?-but that you needn't wear anything if you don't want to 'cause it's a hot night and you count as family because you're Minerva's father, one of them."
I thought I had them keyed now by freckle pattern. "Thank you, Lorelei; I'll wear it." I've always felt that a napkin was enough to wear in dining at home in a properly tempered house-or outdoors in private on a warm night. But, as guest of honor even though "family," I could not go bare when they were taking the trouble to be festively formal.
"You're welcome, but I'm Captain Lazuli, but that's all right, she's me. Scuse!" She vanished.
I put it on; we went into the garden and retrieved Tamara's gown-and it matched what I was wearing. The same shade of blue, I mean, and a Golden-Age-of-Hellas- flavor to it. Hers was about two grams of blue fog. The bodice fastened at the right shoulder and came diagonally down to her waist at the left. Its skirt was longer than mine-but that was appropriate; Greek men of their Golden Age did wear their skirts shorter than did women, instead of the reverse that is more usual on Secundus. (I did not know as yet what was customary on Tertius.) We matched, and I was pleased.
Accident? "Accidents" around the Senior are usually planned.
We ate in the garden, a couch for each couple, arranged in hexagon with the fountain as the sixth side. Athene made the water dance and danced lights in it, to match whatever she was playing. All the womenfolk but Tamara helped with the primary serving; Lori and Lazi played Hebe from then on- it was impossible to keep them nailed to their couch anyhow. As the feast started, Ira was with Minerva, Lazarus with Ishtar, Galahad with Hamadryad, and the twins together. But the women moved around like chessmen, sharing a couch, a few bites, a little cuddling, then moving on-all but Tamara, whose firm-soft, rounded bottom lay against my lap the entire feast. It was just as well that she did not move; I'm not shy but prefer not to show the gallant reflex unless I need it at once-and I was very conscious of her dear body warm against me.
But while Lazarus started the repast with Ishtar, the next time I looked his way it was Minerva who reclined against him-and next, one of the twins, which one I am not sure. And so on.
I won't describe the feast except to say that I did not expect it in a young colony and to add that I have paid high prices for poorer food in famous restaurants in New Rome.
All but Lazarus and his sisters were wearing colorful, pseudo-Grecian garments. But Lazarus was dressed as a Scottish chieftain of two and a half millennia ago-the kilt, bonnet, sporran, dirk, claymore, etc. The sword he laid aside but handy, as if expecting to need it. I can state firmly that he was never entitled to dress as a chief by the rules of those long-lost clans. There is doubt that he is entitled to wear any Scottish dress. He once said that he was "half Scotch and half soda," but on another occasion he told Ira Weatheral that he had first worn the kilt at a time (shortly before the flight of the New Frontiers) when the style was popular in his home country-found that he liked it, and thereafter wore the kilt when local custom permitted.
That night he went all out and added a fierce mustache to match his finery.
His twin sisters were dressed exactly as he was. I am still wondering whether all this was to honor me, to impress me, or to amuse me. Perhaps all three.
I would happily have spent those three hours in quiet, feeding Tamara and letting her feed me, bathed in the peace of soul that comes from touching her, but the closed happiness circle (and closed it was; Athene's voice now came from the fountain) showed that the Senior expected us to share company, talking and listening in turn, as ritually as in any protocol-bound salon in New Rome. And so we did, in shared and gentle harmony-with the twins adding unexpected grace notes but usually managing to restrain their exuberance and be "grown-up." The Senior started it, using Ira as Stimulator. "Ira, what would you say if a god came through that entranceway?"