'Where did you lot come from?' asked Demetrius, gazing down at the basket of kittens.

'The cats got married again,' explained Argyros wisely.

Radu ruffled his hair. 'But who officiated at the ceremony?'

Chryssa knelt down and picked up the orange one – the adventurous one that had climbed out of the basket. She held it up to Demetrius. 'This one kind of looks like you.' She winked.

Demetrius took the kitten, which purred smugly, and surprisingly loudly for such a small creature. 'Hey, there, kitty.'

Radu shot him a look. 'You didn't. . . ?'

Demetrius looked up, startled. 'What? No! I would never. . . There's the culprit, over there.' He pointed to Tomas, the big orange tomcat now slinking around the wainscotting. The kids giggled.

Demetrius studied the furry object in his arms, now struggling to be put down. 'Your paterfamilias is Tomas. I shall call you Tomas Junior, TI for short.'

The kids, who spelled in Greek, didn't think Taviota was a good name for a cat. So they called him Tomi.

It was midafternoon on the Flosis. The autumn sun shone down warmly on the river, which flowed slowly toward the sea. This was perfectly all right with the three friends who picnicked in leisurely fashion on its banks. It was a warm, lazy day, the figs were ripe, and the wine tasted good.

'That is good news about Manius's engagement,' said Radu. 'We're looking forward to the wedding.'

'Yes,' put in Demetrius. 'We wish them both much happiness. And you, too.'

Pertinax beamed at them both. 'Thank you. I must admit this development is the answer to my prayers – many, and to several gods.'

'You chose them wisely, then,' said Radu, reaching for the grapes. He winked at Demetrius, who gave him a warning look.

Pertinax took no notice, being used to Radu's ways by now. 'I can hope for grandchildren now. This is a great comfort. Flaminia is a fine young woman. And she has nine brothers and sisters! This bodes well.'

'Your grandchildren will be blessed with aunts and uncles, for sure,' said Demetrius.

'It is good to have family,' said Pertinax happily. 'Once the nuptuals are accomplished – which you will both attend. . . '

'Naturally,' they both chorused.

'. . . then I shall enjoy my leisure and devote myself more completely to my philosophical studies.'

Radu suppressed a chuckle. Before Demetrius could reply, the old man added, 'It is strange: all of my good fortunes, beginning with when I met you, seem to have started here, on this very spot on the riverbank.'

'Oh, really?' said Demetrius, a little confused.

'Yes. Do you remember our first dinner together, at your house? When you so kindly offered me the experience of the torpedo fish?'

'Oh, yes, indeed! That was most. . . enlightening.'

'It was an unforgettable evening! And before that, on this very spot, I was reading about the torpedo fish, when I was charged by otters and attacked by jays. A most curious encounter, worthy of the natural histories.'

'I remember you telling us about it,' said Demetrius. 'I believe I said at the time that it was probably a good omen.'

'And you were right! After that, I met you both, and Manius went to Dalmatia and came back a hero, and now he has found a wife! And I have been much comforted by your slaves and their children – oh, such lovely children! Those otters were a blessing.'

Radu regarded the Flosis studiously. 'I am sure the otters would be gratified to know that.'

Pertinax laughed. 'You never fail to surprise me, my young friend. Otters be gratified? Animals do not feel as we do. They serve as omens and messengers for the gods, true. But no mere creature could experience the breadth and depth of emotion that a man can.'

Radu stared at him, open-mouthed, and to cover, Demetrius said quickly, 'But surely Pythagoras. . . '

'Oh, you quote Pythagoras, do you?' Pertinax seized upon the topic with delight and brought in many a man of more authority than ever Pythagoras was, gleefully demolishing the assertion that animals were sentient and capable of deep emotion. Demetrius sat back, smiling indulgently, and let all of this erudition wash over him, while Radu surreptitiously fed bread and cheese to some grateful squirrels behind a nearby tree.

D. stood on the pavement beside a busy street full of people. Automobiles crawled by, bumper to bumper. Taxis honked horns. His gaze travelled upward, and then further upward, seeking the tops of the two giant oblongs of steel, concrete, and glass that towered above. . .

'Bother this for a game of soldiers,' said Demetrius, and woke up.

It was midnight, or thereabouts. Through the open window, the moon shone full and inviting. Without thinking, he shed his sleeping tunic and leapt into the night air. By the time he was fully outside, all there was to see was an owl, its wings spread under the stars.

He hooted, the sound piercing the quiet of the sleeping town. From a nearby tree came an answering call. Radu joined him, and the two of them rode subtle currents of air along the Adriatic beach while the inhabitants of Potentia slept.

The feeling of wind across his feathers was a sensation that had no human analogy. Wing muscles flexed, and Demetrius had avian thoughts. Quantum events took place in a mind fed by images from eyes that saw the world in a way that no philosopher, Roman or Greek, had ever known. A sense of oneness with this planet filled him with a wonder that he never felt among men. Pythagoras was right, he thought, and swooped down over the statue of the Roman soldier, flying in circles around his head for the sheer joy of it.

I guess we won't mind staying here for a while.

DG

30.09.24 Front Page

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