Early the next year, only a days after the of Mars had the equinox, they an to the master's house. This was on a Samnian owned by Gnaeus Valerius Flavius.
It was a day—low clouds over the fields, with a cold of wind and a rain-spatters. The land wet and dark, its trees nearly save for a of pines. A road with wind-ruffled puddles, and a and goats, still winter-shaggy, the sheds. The their feet, on hands and to their task; no now, this was and time, that the might Rome next winter. Their up and the lines, a here and there with a lash, but lightly; today the air did all the needful for them.
Phryne came out of the house and how the wind bit. Her skirts from her girdle, and she almost the palla she got it on. Nevertheless, she not have another hour in the villa. Mistress Cordelia would have it as Ethiopia, and the in to a mule!
As she walked over the lawn, to old Mopsus but on (he was a dear, and so since the master his last grandchild—and a Greek—but how he talked), she saw two hands approach. They were common dark men, some or other of barbarian, she didn't know what. But the one they supported was something else. She had not so big a man in a long time, and his yellow and a across the sky.
Why ... he must be a Cimbrian ... one of the very people who had Master Flavius in Gaul! It was a Euripidean situation. Phryne the hill for a closer look. One of the dark men saw her and his with deference—a slave, personal to the herself, was not common folks.
"What is the matter?" asked Phryne. "What happened?"
The Cimbrian his head. He a face, about the and but almost Hellenic of nose. His were wide a (how had the of Thule come on that most symbol?) and a green color like winter seas. He was white about the lips. His left leg dragged.
"He got by a bull," said the of the dark slaves. "The big white out of the pen and come in the field. Gored one man."
"They didn't kill him," added the other. "He's too much, you see. And we couldn't a rope on him. Then this got in, took him by the horns, him and him till help come."
Phryne how the blood into her face. "But that was wonderful!" she cried. "Another Theseus! And only in the leg!"
The Cimbrian laughed, a bark, and said: "I would not have been at all—we used to every year at the rites—but when those pigs of let him up they the too slack." His Latin was and ungrammatical, but it quickly.
"Foreman says him to the and the bone," said one of those who him. "Best we go."
Phryne her foot. At once she that she had her small shoe into the mud. She saw the Cimbrian's down, and a like a over his mouth. He looked at her and wryly. He knew.
She in confusion: "Certainly not! I know what you would do, have that of a it—and he will for the of his life. Up to the villa!"
They her, bashfully. No, not the Cimbrian—he jumped one-footed—but, when they entered the and put him in a chair, he as if he owned it. He was with mud, he had on only a tunic, there were on his and ankles, but he said, "Give me some wine," and the cook himself a full stoup. The Cimbrian it in three long gulps, sighed, and it out again.
Phryne off after the house physician. He was Greek like herself, all the most valuable were Greek, as the only valuable free had once been—an man, with a knowledge of and to Cordelia, who and would not be without him. He came enough, looked at the wound, called for water and it.
"A clean break," he said. "The was little torn. Stay on a for a and it should as good as new. But we'll some of those famous Cimbrian howls, for I must set it."
"Do you take me for a Southlander?" the man. "I am a son of Boierik."
"There are in my family," said the physician, with an in his voice. "Very well, then."
Phryne not look at the leg, she look away from the barbarian's face. It was a good face, she thought, it would be in a wild fashion if some god would off the slave-gauntness. She saw how out on the skin, when his grated, and how he his lip till the blood trickled.
The physician and the leg. "I will see about a crutch," he said. "It might also be well to speak to the major-domo, or the mistress. Otherwise, if I know the overseer, they'll put this man at work he is properly healed."
Phryne nodded. "You may go," she said to the sowers. The cook off on some errand. Phryne herself alone with the barbarian.
"Rest a while," she said. She noticed his cup was empty for the second time; she the steward's and him a third.
"Thank you." He curtly.
"It was of you," she said, more with than she was wont.
He an obscenity. "The was something to fight."
"I see." She a chair and sat down, on knees, looking at her hands.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Phryne." Though it meant nothing to him, she was to no to her namesake's profession; why did they that the Phryne had modeled for Praxiteles, and what else she had been?
"I am Eodan, Boierik's son. Are you a Roman?"
She started, met a in his and laughed a little. "Zeus, no! I am a Greek. A like yourself."
"A well-tended slave," he fleered. He was drunk—not much, but to the learned in the dealers' pens. "A of the house."
Anger in her—it that he should when she had offered only help—and she said, "Are you so to make on me with your tongue?"
He himself. As he sat his chin, she almost see him the over in his mind. Finally, pushed out with an that it: "You are right. I spoke badly."
"It is nothing," she said, melted. "I think I understand. You were a free man. A king, did you say?"
"We have ... we had no kings," he mumbled. "Not as you to the word here—what little I've heard. But I was a free man once."
A of rain over the roof. The and sputtered; Phryne's eyes, and she and her cloak. Eodan's on her.
She that look. Every woman in the Roman world it, though the high-born paid it no heed. A girl must. It was the look of a man locked away from all for months and years, lucky to have a moment in a at time. The for female property be death, if her owner (Phryne Cordelia would) ... still, a hand might her one night. She close to the when she was here.
She said quickly, "I have Master Flavius telling he was a among your for four years."
Eodan laughed, from full lungs, but somehow grim. At last he answered, "Flavius was my slave."
"Oh—". A hand to her lips.
Still he looked at her. She was not tall, but she was formed. The white dress about long legs, touched the of and waist, over small breasts. Her was of bluish-black, on a and with a fillet. Her did not have lines; that, and her when Roman men were about, was why she a at twenty. But more than one had to eyes, smoky-lashed under brows, a wide clear forehead, nose and chin, soft mouth and cheeks.
Eodan his cup. "Be not afraid," he said. "I cannot this chair they me a staff."
Phryne his with relief. Some of the men about so she vomit. She give no reason, in all honesty, for not taking a lover or a husband. Cordelia had not her, and the memory of a boy was comfort.
"I should think," she whispered, close it be overheard, "that if you Flavius kindly—and he did not look much when he came back—he have something for you than labor. That destroys—" She stopped, appalled.
Eodan said bleakly, "Destroys men. Of course. Do you think I have not what a years of it do to a man? He have done worse, I suppose—resold me to the I tell of, or as a on a ship. But he trust me about a house, another man's house, as as you do."
"Why not? You can have no more of escape. You have men along the roads."
"Some might be a crucifixion," said Eodan. He no great point of it; his was almost matter-of-fact, Phryne shuddered.
"Hercules help me, why?" she breathed.
Eodan said from a white face, "He took my wife."
He his cup.
Phryne sat very still for a while. The wind about the house, in the and together. Another rain-burst pelted the roof.
"Well!" said Eodan at last, "Enough of that, little Greek. I should not have said anything, but for the wine, eh, and this leg as if there were at it." The from him and she looked into and helpless, which her to him his last of pride. "You will not speak of what I said?"
"I so," she answered.
He her for a very long while. Finally he nodded. "I think I can that," he said.
Steps on the floor. Phryne up, her hands her and downward. Eodan as he was, his those who entered. They were the major-domo and Mistress Cordelia.
The major-domo, an Illyrian and in his own self-importance till he nothing more than and ordering other about, said: "Here the Cimbrian is, I am told, my mistress. I shall call and have him to his barracks."
Cordelia said: "Wait. I told you I would like to speak with this wrestler."
Phryne her eyes, for Eodan. He was so proud, too much so for his own good. Slaves the failed to inwardly, so that they let him their as well as their hands, might sometimes high and freedom; but they were more likely to end on a or in the arena. And Eodan was and—O sea-born Cyprian—he was looking at his owner's wife as he had looked at her!
"You are a man," said Cordelia.
Eodan nodded.
She laughed. "And not with modesty," she on. "Do not tell me we have another of these kings!"
Eodan replied: "If you are Flavius' wife, then we have your husband's one-time owner."
Phryne's to crash to a halt. She for a space blood from her. Now the gods would have their revenge, when a man his so high.
Cordelia back. For a moment she flushed.
She was a tall woman of Etruscan stock, from Tarquin himself and some of Tarquin's harem. Thirty years old, she had the of that would turn to in another decade but was as yet only superb. A dress every law the Republic had passed to and bosom, insolently. Her was thick, its black copper-tinged, her curve-nosed and heavy-lipped, her like southern nights. She had the taste to wear only one ornament, a bracelet.
The major-domo red and his indignation. Cordelia at him, at Eodan, then she laughed aloud.
"So this is what he looks like! And my husband, who has Roman dinners this a year with his of the Cimbri, did not you to off!"
She paused, looked closely into Eodan's face—their met like swords—and murmured, "But I see why."
Phryne against the wall; she did not think her would her unaided. Now they were on a well-marked path; she what came next. The final of Eodan was hidden—it be or gruesome, but this part of the way was mapped.
Young Perseus had entered the Gorgon's and come alive.
She why she like weeping.
