Demetrius crouched next to an ornate stool. He pointed to a leg. 'Seriously, Cleopa, do you think you could turn a leg with a few fewer curlicues?'

'But why, Domine? These are beautiful! Look at the workmanship.' Cleopas ran a calloused palm over the elegantly rounded surfaces, stroking them like a lover.

'Well, maybe – just maybe, mind you – there might be customers who prefer a more restrained style.' Like me, he thought.

Cleopas looked skeptical. 'You gotta go with the fashion, Domine.' Demetrius shook his head, regarding the (particularly expensive) decorative chair with loathing. At least those bare-breasted sphinxes were no longer in his living-room. The shop was actually shaping up nicely: as much as the men liked to sit around playing tavli, they could work wonders when properly motivated.

Renting next door to a wineshop was probably a good motivator. To make sure there wasn't too much drinking, Demetrius sent Kiki over twice a day with snacks. She kept a sharp eye on the doings, particularly as they were supposed to be teaching Argyros the rudiments of the trade.

Demetrius started to sit down.

'Not there, Domine! That's our showpiece. Here, sit on this one I've just planed.' Demetrius picked up the stool and inspected its seat cautiously for splinters. Then he and the stool set themselves down in the doorway to enjoy the late-morning sun. The warm light caressed his face, and the cheerful bickering of the cabinetmakers faded into the background. He dozed lightly.

His dream – he was at an airport check-in, arguing about carry-on luggage with a clerk from Olympic Airways – was abruptly interrupted by a tug at his toga.

'Excuse me, mister, are any of these buildings for rent?'

Demetrius opened his eyes and looked down. A small, dusty boy peeked up at him through an unruly fringe of curly, dark hair. His hopeful smile was infectious. Demetrius involuntarily smiled back.

'I think they've all been rented.' The boy's face fell. Demetrius looked up to see a small man and a smaller woman, road-weary, with a handcart. It seemed impossible that these tiny people had pulled that cart very far. He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

'Excuse the disturbance, sir. We're new to town and looking for a place to live and work.'

Demetrius stood up and offered the young man his hand. 'Demetrius Gheorghenius Stellarus,' he said by way of introduction. 'What is it you do?'

'We're wicker workers, sir. I'm Fortunatus. This is my wife Iulia and our son Stephanus. We've come from Rome. Would you like to see some of our work? We managed to bring some pieces.'

Demetrius would, indeed, like to see this work. He examined an intricately-worked chair and found it good – less heavy than wood, and blessedly free of bare-bosomed mythic figures. He wouldn't like to imagine those in wicker or rattan. The lightness of the piece pleased him.

'Would you like to come in for a minute? I have some people I'd like you to meet.'

Fortunatus looked incredibly relieved. 'That would be very kind of you, sir.' Demetrius led the way into the shop.

He gestured to Argyros, who stopped playing with wood chips and came running. 'Argyro, here's a friend for you. His name is Stephanus.'

Argyros grinned happily. 'Nice to meet you, Stephano. Do you want to play castella?'

'Not now,' said Demetrius. 'Instead, you take Stephano and run up to the house. Tell your mother we need refreshments for everybody, plus three visitors. And help her carry things back, okay?' The kids nodded happily and ran off. Demetrius noticed that the little boy, who'd looked so tired a short time before, seemed to have renewed energy. He watched them until they turned the corner: Argyros was pointing out features of interest as they ran. Demetrius went back inside.

Introductions made, the two sets of furniture makers found they had a professional language in common. Demetrius sat down in the wicker chair, which he found quite comfortable, taking no part in the shop talk but enjoying the fact that humans were discussing their areas of expertise rather than divergent opinions about reality. In his experience, humans spent far too much time arguing about subjects they knew little about. The shoptalk was soothing. Soon he had drifted into a doze again. He was back in the airport and had discovered an obscure second-hand shop with some very curious items. . .

'Wake up, Uncle Demetri!' Argyros was dutifully toting a jug of something in his circled arms. Behind him came Radu, Stephanus on his shoulders holding a small basket, Cleo with a covered tray, and Ermione and Chryssa carrying a wicker hamper carefully between them. Lunch had arrived, brought by people curious to meet other people. In answer to Demetrius' inquiry, Cleo informed him that Telly had stayed behind to watch the house, and Kiki to watch Telly, so all would be well.

Demetri privately thought things would be all right as long as the cats were watching the humans, but got up and helped lay out the foodstuffs. An old door across two sawhorses served as a makeshift table. Babis and the other two cousins, Theo and Clopas, helped arrange the seating and move equipment out of the way. They, too, were looking forward to a meal break.

The newcomers were shy at first, but they were obviously hungry. For a while, talk was all of the 'pass the. . . ' and 'this is delicious!' variety. Demetrius winked at Radu, who was surrounded by happy children, and asked, 'Cleo, how do you get this melitzanosalata so perfect every time?'

Cleo flushed, pleased at the compliment. 'I salt the aubergines before roasting, and use the best olive oil,' she replied. 'Cooks know these things, right, Iulia?'

Iulia started to say, 'Everything is so good, I can't thank you enough. . .' and she stopped, her hand in front of her mouth. Overcome with emotion, she buried her face in a fold of her gown.

Her husband patted her back gently. 'I'm sorry, it's just that my wife is so grateful for your hospitality. It has been. . . a rough few weeks. We had to leave. . . rather suddenly.'

'Oh, you poor dear!' exclaimed Cleo. Wrapping her arm around Iulia's narrow shoulders, Cleo hurried her away from the company toward the back door. In a moment, she hustled back in to pick up two plates of food, and gestured for the ever-helpful Argyros to bring chairs for them. Argyros did as he was bidden and then rejoined the company, while Radu covered up an awkward pause with conversation.

'I'm sorry you had to move so unexpectedly, Fortunate, but I'm glad you happened down our street today.' The others murmured assent. Cleopas made sure everyone's cup was refilled.

'Did you walk all the way from Rome?' Chryssa asked in surprise.

Stephanus nodded vigorously. 'It took us more than a week! We're really tired of walking.'

'Why?' Argyros asked the question the grownups were too polite to.

Silence. Fortunatus cleared his throat. 'The, er, Emperor said all the people in my neighbourhood had to leave. No exceptions. We only had a short time to prepare. So we packed what we could carry, sold the rest, and headed out.' He shrugged sadly.

'I guess it's bad if the Emperor takes a dislike to you,' commented Cleopas. Babis poked him in the ribs, and he shut up. Nobody wanted to ask why the Emperor didn't want these people in his backyard – foreigners themselves, they were sympathetic to others in precarious situations.

Fortunatus sighed. 'When we saw that this street was rebuilding, we thought perhaps we could find a place to set up shop. We really hadn't thought much beyond that.' He looked around uncertainly.

'We don't have anywhere to live.' Stephanus said to Argyros, stating the obvious. 'We used to be Romans, like you are Potentians. But now what are we?'

All eyes turned to Demetrius – in the absence of any sane Roman household organisation, he was the paterfamilias. This thought occurred to Radu, who chuckled quietly.

Demetrius shot Radu an annoyed look. He had heard the chuckle and knew what it meant. 'I think. . . ' he started to say. But that was as far as he got.

Cleo burst into the workshop. 'Have you people heard what is going on? These good people need a place to live! Here's what will happen: after lunch, Cleopa, you take the others back to the villa. Tell Kiki we're fixing up the upstairs here. We need bedding and that extra stuff that's in the garden shed.'

Oh, no, thought Demetrius, remembering the household items he had banished there due to extreme kitschiness and sheer exuberant Greek bad taste. These poor people.

'Ermione, you and the kids can sweep and dust and air the place out while the men help Iulia and Fortunatus unpack.' Cleo closed her eyes for a moment, visualising the upstairs layout. She was enjoying herself: a captain with a new ship.

'But what are we to. . . I mean, how can we. . . ?' Apparently, Fortunatus was unused to this much decisive action all at once. Demetrius sympathised: encountering Cleo in full flight for the first time was, to him, far more impressive than a Roman cohort on the march. He smiled.

Cleopas spoke up. 'Fortunate, you and your wife can share the shop with us. Together, we should be able to cover a bigger market! After all, some people. . . ' he threw Demetrius a reproving glance, '. . . have less sophisticated tastes than others.'

Fortunatus, smiling broadly, clasped hands with his new partners, one after another.

Cleo nodded approval. 'So it's all settled,' she said, pressing Iulia to her side (and almost engulfing her). Almost as an afterthought, she looked up at Demetrius. 'That's if this meets with your approval, Domine?'

Demetrius grinned. 'I couldn't have said it better myself.' He ignored Radu's snicker as he reached for more melitzanosalata. 'But I insist we all finish this excellent meal first.'

Demetrius was sort of looking forward to a quiet meal – but musical instruments appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere, and music was made. Radu pitched in on the aulos. During a rousing chorus of the Song of Seikilos, Fortunatus produced a flute and Stephanus a hand drum.

They'll fit right in, was Demetrius's thought. Iulia cleared her throat and sang for the company:

Eliyahu ha-navi, Eliyahu ha-Tishbi. . .

She sang it a couple of times. The others clapped in time, and the kids picked up the words and sang along.

Demetrius and Radu exchanged glances of surprise, but clapped along with the others.

DG

20.05.24 Front Page

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