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.That settled him.Nonetheless, he hung his sword over his chiton.A servant came in through the curtain at his door and bowed.‘Leon asks that you dress in your best, lord,’ the man intoned.‘I am to help you.’Off came the sword and the chiton.Satyrus opened the chest under the window and poked through the folded wool there, looking for his favourite - a plain white wool chiton with a minute stripe of Tyrian Purple.He found it as much by feel as by sight - the wool was superb.‘How about this?’ he asked the servant.‘Certainly, sir,’ the servant replied.This time he was oiled, his hair carefully arranged and the chiton adjusted so that every fold fell as if it had been sculpted by Praxiteles, closed by a girdle made of gold cord.Satyrus added a knife that hung around his neck from a cord, vanishing into the folds of the chiton.The servant made a face.‘Hardly required, sir,’ he said.Satyrus was always annoyed by talkative servants.‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he said, and sat to have his best sandals put on his feet.When he was shod, he nodded.‘Thanks,’ he said to the servant.‘Yes, sir,’ the servant replied, and retreated through the door.Not for the first time, Satyrus wished he had a servant or a slave of his own - a comrade.Someone who would understand his own needs.All of Leon’s freedmen treated him like a child.Caught up in all that was the thought that he had treated Phiale badly.He sat at a table in the courtyard and scribbled a note, searching for a nice bit of poetry to use to express himself, but finding none.So he wrote:That man is my enemy, and has been for years.I am sorry that you were injured in our squabble.If I can be of any assistance, please send to me.He sealed it with his Herakles ring and sent it with a slave.It occurred to him as he walked down the cool marble halls towards the garden that he hadn’t asked why he was dressed like a prince.Melitta was still lying naked on her day-bed, trying to will herself to calm and coolness in the evening breeze, when a senior woman servant came to her chamber.‘I am to ask you to dress your best,’ the old woman said, with a smile.‘You have an invitation from the palace.’Kallista, also naked, rose from the balcony and clapped her hands.‘Amastris! It must be! I heard that Master Leon brought her home.’Melitta smiled.‘Thanks, Dorcus! I’ll be ready.’Dorcus turned to Kallista.‘It wouldn’t be amiss to pack a wrap for morning,’ she said, laying a finger along her nose.‘The palace messenger suggested that the Lady Amastris might wish to entertain our mistress overnight.’‘Dorcus? Be a dear and tell the steward that I’ll be out for dinner.And does Uncle Leon know? Oh - it’s his homecoming.Perhaps—’ She paused.‘Amastris is going to use me to see my brother, isn’t she?’ Melitta asked the older woman.Dorcus shook her head slightly.She was a woman of consequence in the household, and Melitta knew that every rumour came to her ears.‘Master Leon has an invitation of his own,’ she said.‘As does your brother - from the king himself.If the princess wishes to see your brother, she will have to scheme very quickly indeed.Dress well, young mistress.’ She paused.‘Given the - incident - this afternoon, all may not go as the princess imagines.Understand me, despoina?’Kallista didn’t need a second admonition.She had Melitta’s best Greek gown laid out on the bed - wool so fine as to be transparent, carefully oiled to a fine finish, the colour a dark purple-blue with gold stripes.There were also the Artemis brooches that Kinon had given her three years ago, and a dagger, and a wicked bronze pin in her hair, the knobbed grip hidden by an enormous pearl that matched the strings that held her long black tresses.Kallista slipped long, dangling gold earrings into her ears and clasped a necklace at her throat.Her hands rested on her mistress’s shoulders.‘You are beautiful,’ she said.She held up a silver mirror so that Melitta could admire herself.‘Not as beautiful as you,’ Melitta said.Her slave was like an avatar of Aphrodite - in fact, some men called her that very title.Melitta had been offered sums of up to twenty talents of silver for her slave’s favours.‘Hmm,’ Kallista said.She put her head down next to Melitta’s, so that the two were side by side in the mirror.‘Dark and fair.You are more the image of Hera or Artemis.A colder beauty - but no less beautiful.’‘Flatterer,’ Melitta said.She poked Kallista in the side and made the other girl squeal.‘Not with you,’ Kallista giggled.‘Every man’s head will turn when we walk in the palace.Hah! I feel like a cat among mice when I go there.’‘Freedom has not made you modest,’ Melitta said.Kallista lowered her eyes in a parody of virginal modesty.‘Has it not, my mistress?’‘How was Amyntas?’ Melitta asked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]