D. reclined on a couch among other couches amid the toga-clad philosophers. They were eating mezes and waffling between mouthfuls. One group was discussing reality.

'Perhaps,' said one, 'The story itself is less important than the interaction, one with another.'

'What is important is the potential territory covered,' said another. 'Gotta be generating the old spacetime.'

'But what about the metaphors?' chimed in a third.

'All metaphors are lies!' shouted the other two.

In another group, a fierce debate raged. The words 'teleological' and 'etiological' were bandied about.

'Perhaps,' interjected one, 'Ends and beginnings are one and the same when viewed from the right perspective?'

Somebody else mentioned 'alpha and omega', and a fight broke out. Bits of bread were thrown. Some of the bits had cucumber sauce on them. It got messy.

Annoyed, D. produced a smallish snake and tossed it into the middle of the floor. The snake, equally annoyed, began to swallow its own tail.

'Ouroboros!' they all shouted, save one. That one produced a vial and rubbed something on the snake's body, right where it was swallowing itself. The snake didn't like the taste and abandoned its autophagy, disgorging its body. It gave the philosophers a disdainful look and slithered away.

'What is the moral of this dream?' D. asked the philosopher with the vial.

'All you need to stop the plague is a little hand sanitizer,' replied the sage.

Demetrius woke, irritated and thirsty. He poured a drink from the carafe (a nice piece of local glass-blowing) and stood in the window admiring the sunrise.

He heard a rhythmic noise below: it sounded like grunting. He looked down.

His window overlooked his and Pertinax's back kitchen gardens. There was a low wall separating the two properties. Manius Flaccus Pertinax was there, swinging weights. That was the source of the grunts. Demetrius yawned.

An orange cat came into the bedroom and jumped onto the vacated bed. Demetrius started to pet it: realising it was only Radu, he stopped and turned back to the window to watch the birds wheeling over the sea. When he turned back again, he saw Radu, in human form this time, pulling on one of Demetrius's tunics he'd fished out of a chest.

'Good thing we take the same size,' he commented. 'I think it's rude of you not to scratch me behind the ears when I'm a cat. I'd do it for you, if positions were reversed.'

Demetrius rolled his eyes. 'No doubt. Come and look at this display.' Radu joined him at the window, where they contemplated Manius at his morning workout.

'Impressive what the army gets up to these days,' said Radu. 'That young man has a fine physique, but I doubt his mind is equally developed.'

'I wonder who he's trying to impress?' mused Demetrius. 'Nobody's around at this hour, but he's obviously oiled his muscles. Of course, the athletes say that improves performance, but who knows?'

'I would say the onus is on them to prove that,' quipped Radu, dodging quickly before Demetrius could smack him on the back of the head for making puns before breakfast.

'What say we go for a swim after breakfast?' Radu asked, smearing his bread with Cleo's excellent quince jam.

'Where?' asked Demetrius, reaching for the jar.

'I thought in the sea. Great weather for dolphining.'

'Perhaps – Oh, you glutton! You've finished the jam. I'll go and see if Cleo has any more.'

There was nobody in the kitchen. Through the back window, Demetrius could see Cleo and Kiki hanging up laundry in the morning sun. Whatever she was using for whitener was really working: his togas were dazzling, almost as if he were standing for public office, which gods forbid. The ladies, however, weren't chatting as usual. In fact, they were silent. This was an unprecedented occurrence in Demetrius's experience. He stood there, looking, the jam forgotten.

The ladies appeared to be listening. Aha, that was it. The gate in the corner of the garden. There stood Ermione, interrupted in the act of harvesting cucumbers from an obscenely healthy vine. Interrupted by Manius, who was standing on his side of the gate (barely), flexing his muscles in a way that Demetrius found obnoxious. And talking. About himself, of course.

'. . . and of course I lead by example. I can lift more weight than anybody in my century. Would you like to feel my muscles? Girls like that, I know. . . ' He winked. Demetrius thought him absolutely repulsive.

Cleo and Kiki exchanged worried glances.

'Er, no, thank you, sir,' replied Ermione nervously. 'My hands are dirty from the cucumbers.'

'You can wipe them on your skirt,' suggested the smug Roman. He grinned, showing perfect teeth.

Ermione picked up her basket, straightening, and gave the muscular Roman (muscle-bound thought Demetrius) a sidelong glance. 'Sorry, sir, I think I hear the master calling.'

Demetrius thought quickly. Opening the window, he called, 'Ermione! Come here a minute, I need you!'

Relieved, the girl called back. 'Coming, domine!' With a fleeting smile, she ran into the house. Demetrius caught looks of gratitude from Cleo and Kiki. He waved briefly, picked up his pot of jam, and went back to the dining room, passing Ermione on the way.

'Stay inside until he leaves,' he whispered before going back to his interrupted breakfast.

'What kept you so long?' Radu said. 'I was looking forward to that jam.'

'Our showoff neighbour,' Demetrius explained. 'And I get first crack at this jam. I got up for it.'

Later in the day, the passengers aboard an actuaria in the Adriatic, bound for Salona, spotted a pair of playful dolphins leaping in front of their bow, then swimming alongside the ship, although keeping well clear of the oars. The dolphins decided to follow behind when a few passengers started tossing fish over the stern. The merchant from whose barrels the fish came shouted at the passengers angrily and tried ineffectually to shoo away the dolphins.

'What is that boat called?' asked Radu before snapping up another fish.

'It's a navis actuaria,' replied Demetrius between backflips.

'A 'ship that moves'? Duh, I can see that. As opposed to what? One that turns around in circles?'

'That's what it's called. I'm not responsible for nautical terminology. Or the quality of the fish they're hauling. Too salty! Let's go!' And they pirouetted away after giving the passengers a 'so long, and thanks for the fish' display. As they swam back toward the Italian side, they could still hear the fish merchant's complaints and the laughter of the bored passengers. The rowers, of course, weren't saying anything. They were saving their breath for rowing.

The sky was blue as ever, the sea calm (hence all the rowing), and the water warm. But Radu had a question.

'Why were there so many soldiers on that ship?'

Demetrius tried to shrug, but as dolphins don't have proper shoulders, or arms, for that matter, ended up flipping his flippers and doing a somersault. Radu laughed, which dolphins do normally, and they forgot about the Roman Empire and its works and pomps.

'What do you mean, domine, that you two 'aren't very hungry and only want a supper of mezes'? Have you been eating gyros from that Paraebates's stand again? I've warned you: he's cooking cow's ears. It's bad for you.'

'Paraebates? Wasn't he a character in that play we saw the other night?' asked Radu with an innocent expression. Demetrius assured his proud cook that they hadn't been sampling rival cuisines. They would never do that when they had such a good cook at home. It was just that they'd overindulged in her delicious jam at breakfast. Mollified, Cleo went away.

Demetrius ran to fetch another pitcher of water. 'That fish was entirely too salty.' When he returned, he found the peristylium deserted save for Telly, who was watering plants in his loincloth, a habit Demetrius secretly found amusing. To call Telly 'wiry' would be charitable: his lean frame was covered mostly with spare muscle and curly white hair – all except for the top of his head, which was as smooth as a baby's bottom.

'Did you see where Radu went?' Telly snapped out of his plant-watering trance and shook his head. Demetrius went into the kitchen and looked outside. Oh, no, Manius is back, he thought. Indeed, the young Roman was prowling around his father's kitchen garden, pretending to take an interest in the produce. His real interest was obvious: Ermione was taking down laundry. Her mother and aunt were nowhere in evidence: in fact, Demetrius could hear them around the side of the house, talking to a neighbour.

What he saw next stopped him in his tracks.

Radu. Radu walking up to Ermione. Ermione smiling coyly up at him. Radu playfully helping Ermione remove the clothes from the line for folding. Radu taking one end of a toga, Ermione the other. Walking forward, walking back, exchanging corners. Touching hands. Flirting. And finally. . .

'Radu, what are you doing?' Demetrius almost shouted. But he didn't. He whispered it.

Raud and Ermione, kissing. Kind of a chaste kiss, really. But far too familiar. Out of the corner of his eye – his horrified attention still riveted on the sight of his idiot cousin violating a prime directive – Demetrius saw that Manius also saw this.

And stared, muttering under his breath. Throwing down an innocent cucumber with unnecessary violence, the soldier stamped back into his house and slammed the door.

Demetrius waited until Radu and Ermione came back into the house. As the girl carried the laundry away, Demetrius grabbed his cousin by the neck and frog-marched him into a bedroom.

'What in the name of forty-two hells do you think you're playing at?' Demetrius fulminated. He did this at a low, intense volume. The effect was like that of a leopard growling inside a pillow fort. 'Ermione's our friends' daughter. We're responsible for her safety. At the moment, she's enslaved and can't fight back. She's young and innocent. You know all this. You also know that humans aren't the species to be flirting with. Why are you being cute?'

Radu grinned. 'Calm down, Sunny Jim. Yes, I know all that. But did you see Manius's face when we did that? I'll bet we get no more trouble from that guy.'

'Er, ah. Ah. I see,' said Demetrius, who did. 'Ermione was in on it?'

Ermione, no fool, stuck her head around the door. 'Totally in on it, domine. Domine Radu and I worked it out before. And don't worry, we told Mama and Auntie, too. They approved of the drama.' She laughed: the sound of a child pleased with the game. 'We copied some ideas from the Miles Gloriosus

Demetrius let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. 'Well done, you two. I guess theatre attendance does sharpen the wits.'

They laughed and went in to dinner.

DG

29.04.24 Front Page

Back Issue Page