'Get up, Uncle Demetri, you've got to see what we found in the garden!' Argyros urged again. Demetrius groaned.

'Something good for breakfast, I hope?' he teased the boy gently. Argyros shook his head while Chryssa did a little dance of impatience. 'Uncle Radu says come and see. He says it's sinifi-, siggifi-, er. . . '

'Significant?' Demetrius had reached the point of that much articulation. The girl nodded vigorously.

'Yep. What you said. Uncle Radu says he has an idea.'

'And since you're the curerater of this mad museum. . .' added Argyros.

'Curator?' supplied Demetrius, fastening his sandals.

Argyros allowed that this might be the word. '. . . you've got to come and see it.'

'Right now,' said Chryssa.

'Oh, I dunno,' said Demetrius. 'I thought maybe I'd go for a walk into the mountains first, visit a shrine or two. . . ' He broke off as their faces fell. 'I was just teasing,' he laughed. 'Let's go see this significant find of yours.'

Radu handed Demetrius the little bronze figure, which he'd been polishing with an old rag. 'What do you make of this?'

The kids looked on eagerly as he turned the thing this way and that. 'Looks like. . . a satyr, I think. Note the hooves and the tail.'

'Can I have it?' asked Argyros. 'He could fight with my gladiator.'

Demetrius shook his head. 'I'm afraid not, paidi mou. This is too old to be a toy.'

'That's right,' said Radu solemnly. 'Past a certain age, even your Aunt Kiki's knickknacks will turn into artefacts.' He winked at Chryssa, who giggled.

Argyros shrugged, resigned. 'Because it's siggificant?'

Demetrius snorted. 'I'm afraid so. I strongly suspect this is Etruscan. And Rome reveres the Etruscan culture.' For some reason which is beyond me, he thought. After all, it is just an old dust collector. But he handed the object back to Radu.

Radu studied it. 'Definitely a satyr. But I've never seen one with bloomers on before.'

'What are bloomers?' asked Ermione, joining the group. She was carrying a basket of laundry on one hip.

Demetrius chuckled. 'My erudite cousin is referring obscurely to the figure's perizoma. Satyrs aren't usually big on undergarments.'

'Why did the sculptor put underwear on him, then?' Ermione spoke with genuine curiosity, and not one hint of either prurience or prudery. Demetrius looked at her thoughtfully. That one is real philosopher material, he thought. I wonder if her mother knows?

Radu was ready to speculate. 'Maybe the shop was being harassed by the Etruscan League for Mythological Purity.'

Demetrius stared at him, annoyed. 'League for. . . ' Radu stared back: his expression was solemn, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. Finally Demetrius couldn't stand it any longer. They both burst out laughing.

Cleo happened by at this moment. She shook her head at the two unseemly members of the alleged ruling class. 'What is it now, paidakia?' She saw the figurine. 'Oh, that's what Telly dug up among the cucumbers? Eh, I've seen better in the market. Do you think it will fetch a good price?' She stretched out a hand, thinking to put it in her pocket.

'Oh, no, you don't,' said Radu, holding the satyr out of reach. 'We have plans for this artefact.'

'Artefact? What's that when it's at home?'

Argyros and Chryssa regarded their mother with big eyes. 'It's siggificant,' they intoned.

At this, the whole company broke up.

Dinner at Pertinax's villa had been a pleasant affair. The old gent appreciated the company of lively young people he regarded as his peers – especially since he missed his son. Privately, Demetrius was pretty sure the absence of Manius the miles gloriosus was one of the reasons Radu had agreed to accept this invitation with him. Radu wasn't a fan of the military.

Demetrius suspected that Radu had other intentions with regard to their senior neighbour, but as long as all remained friendly, Demetrius was willing to go along with his cousin. He contented himself with sleepily admiring the décor: the old patrician's home was laid out in surprisingly good taste. He said as much – omitting the surprising part – and was rewarded with an account of the virtues of Caecinus, the architect who had designed the villa in Pertinax's father's day.

Dinner was very pleasant, as Pertinax had old-Roman tastes. There were no servings of peacocks' anythings or other of the culinary excesses that Demetrius deplored. Instead, they dined on straightforward fare: fresh fish, a pork stew with an excellent garum sauce (not quite as good as Cleo's), fresh seasonal vegetables, with cheese and fruit as palate cleansers.

The startling thing was the wine – not the drink, which was an unobjectionable Falernian, but the drinking cups. These were a matched set of blown glass in the shape of heads. Human heads. Heads of humans from somewhere in Africa, it looked like. Who in the world thought THAT up? wondered Demetrius.

Radu wondered, too. And asked. 'These are very unusual glasses, Pertinax. . . ' he began. Demetrius shot him a warning look. Radu returned a look of mock innocence.

He got no further, however. 'I knew it!' exclaimed Pertinax. 'I knew these horrors couldn't be in the best taste! No matter what Manius insisted in his letter. But you know how young people are. Always following the latest fashion.'

'They're certainly. . . intriguing,' countered Demetrius diplomatically. 'I'm sure Manius is in the thick of cultural developments over in Pietas Iulia – it's a much more important port than we are. Did he purchase them there?'

'Yes,' said the old man. 'He's forever sending me stuff like this. Wants us to be in the swing of things, I guess.'

'Your son shows admirable filial piety,' said Demetrius in a tone designed to convey approval. Radu kept quiet and nodded, tongue firmly in cheek. 'He wants to share the world with you, which I think is wonderful.'

'Do you think so?' said Pertinax eagerly. 'Then I hope you don't mind my trotting out these cups tonight. I wanted to tell him I had used them – although, frankly, they're not my. . . '

'. . . cup of Falernian?' suggested Radu.

They laughed, although Pertinax obviously wasn't sure why that was a joke. Still, he was grateful for the reassurance. Demetrius thought it sad that this old fellow, who after all was basically a decent person, could be so insecure about small things. He seemed to live his life along the lines of what would the Gracchi do? Demetrius felt a bit protective, and tended to think of Pertinax as a grandfather, even though he'd never had such a relative himself.

These thoughts reminded him. 'Radu! Show Pertinax the gift we have brought him.'

'A gift?' Pertinax's eyes lit up. 'You didn't need to. . . oh, my! What is that?' He studied the little satyr with interest.

'We found it in the garden this morning,' explained Radu. 'And we thought you would know how to appreciate it.'

'We think it might be Etruscan,' added Demetrius.

Pertinax nodded sagely. 'Dionysius of Halicarnassus said the Etruscans were the original people here. Of course, this is not Etruscan territory.'

'It's not?' Radu was startled. 'Then maybe this isn't. . . '

'Oh, no: you are no doubt correct, my young friend. This is Etruscan workmanship. And this modest little satyr,' he chuckled indulgently, 'is definitely wearing an item of Etruscan clothing. I am sure there was trade between Etruria and the Picenti.'

'That would be it,' said Demetrius. 'We are grateful for the knowledge. It is interesting to think what might lie beneath our, er, modern homes and gardens.'

'Yes, isn't it?' mused Pertinax, turning the figurine over in his hands. A thought stopped him. He turned to Demetrius. 'Do you know who would enjoy this artefact the most?' His eyes gleamed. 'The emperor.'

Demetrius was surprised. 'You'd like to give this to Claudius? Do it, with my blessing! But why?'

'Because Claudius is one of our best scholars,' said Pertinax simply. 'Yes, yes: I know fools think the emperor is a fool. But I assure you, he is not. They will find that out. I've actually had occasion to read his books, and I know that he is interested in history and the religious practices of other peoples. He would love this little fellow.' He tapped the figurine thoughtfully. 'I shall send it to him with a fine letter, by reliable messenger. I shall mention your part in this discovery, of course.' He smiled.

'I pray you do not!' exclaimed Demetrius in alarm. Nonono, not that! When Pertinax looked quizzical, he explained, 'Modesty is a family trait. Very un-Roman of us, I know. But we'd die of embarrassment.' And Alex would have a cow. Please tell the emperor the gift comes from you. I'll bet he's read your book, too.' He knew he had written one, because everybody had. 'And then, when he responds, you can tell us all about it.'

Pertinax looked from one to the other. Radu nodded encouragement. The old man smiled, relieved to have permission to be the centre of attention for once. The evening ended in gentle jollity, more wine in the ridiculous glasses, and a musical solo by Radu, who never went anywhere without a flute.

DG

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