It was not to continue. One night she rolled over meaning to embrace her lover and found, to her great disgust, that she was caressing her husband instead. Thereafter the same thing occurred more and more frequently, for her husband had discovered that he was no longer so young as once he had been, and he was sorely pained by the inroads his nighttime adventures were making in his fortune.
But when her husband had occupied the bed every night for nearly a month, the woman smelled apple blossoms again.
Then, kissing her lover, she exclaimed, "If only he were dead! I'd have his money, and we could live together for the rest of our lives. You wouldn't be niggardly to me, would you, darling?"
"Never, stepmother," said her lover. "Every spring I would furnish our house new, and each fall I would shower upon you the fruits of the earth."
That sounded promising, and by this time the woman had convinced herself that "stepmother" was only her lover's pet name for her, he being at least in appearance somewhat the younger. Thus she said, "Do it, then! Do it tonight!"
"I will, stepmother."
And the next morning the man and his wife were found dead by the gardener, hung with the same rope. A noose had been tied in each end and the rope thrown over the largest limb of the apple tree in the garden.
The gardener and the lady's maid were accused of murdering them and tried on the Areopagus; but their deaths were ruled a double suicide, and husband and wife were buried beneath the apple tree.
There was laughter and applause when Phye's tale was told, and Hypereides said, "I'll have to be careful not to tell that one to my crew around the fire some evening. Do you know, I think half of 'em would swallow the whole rigmarole as solid fact. Why, on this past voyage, there was talk of a werewolf aboard."
The kybernetes shook his head ruefully. "It's our mixing with the Orientals that's done it, Captain. We used to be a reasonable people, believing in the Gods of the Mountain and nothing else. Now there's more gods up and down the Long Coast than along the River in Riverland. A god for wine, and all sorts of nonsense."
"Are you saying," Pindaros snapped, "that you don't credit the God in the Tree? I can tell you, sir, you're badly mistaken."
Kalleos intervened. "Gentlemen! Aristocrats! It's a rule of this house that there are to be no religious arguments. Tolerant discussion, if you like. But no fighting."
"I assure you," Pindaros said stiffly, "that I speak from personal experience."
"So do I," Kalleos told him. "I've seen men who've been the best of friends for years at each other's throats. The gods are stronger than we are, so let them do their own fighting."
"Words of wisdom," said Eurykles. "Now if I may shift the conversation to what I hope will be a somewhat less touchy topic, it's my opinion that such tales of magic as Phye has just amused us with should not be discounted wholly, Hypereides. It's quite possible for we poor mortals to peep a bit into the future, for example-and I do not refer exclusively to quizzing some god or other at an oracle."
"Perhaps," Hypereides admitted. "I've heard some things along that line that make a man think."
"Lo!" exclaimed Eurykles, regarding Hypereides with admiration. "There's the mark of an open mind for you, friends. Your true man of reason never accepts or rejects without evidence, unless the thing is foolish on the face of it, like that business with the apple branch."
The kybernetes chuckled. "And the clay doll."
"No, no!" Eurykles raised a hand. "I won't say it can be done. But there's certainly something real behind it. Spirits can be summoned from a grave, and I urge you as reasonable men not to mock what you don't understand." He drained his cup. "My dear, I'd like quite a bit more of that."
"Trinkets!" said the kybernetes.
"What, sir?" asked Eurykles thickly. "Do you deny that such things can be? Why, I myself, in the practice of my profession-" He belched. "Excuse it. I have often called the dead to stand before me while I questioned them."
The kybernetes laughed. "Since I've no wish to be asked to leave by the lady of this house, I offer no comment."
"You don't believe me, but your captain here is a wiser man than you. Aren't you, sir?"
"Perhaps not wholly," Hypereides said.
"What?" Eurykles reached into the neck of his chiton and produced a leather purse. "Here I have ten birds. Yes, ten little owls nesting together. They're here to testify that I can do what I say."
"And it's easily said," said the kybernetes, "where we are now. But it can't be proved."
"There's a burial ground not far from here," Eurykles told him. "Surely this good wine-and I wouldn't in the least object to another drop, my dear-has given you the courage to come along with me."
"If you're proposing a bet," said the kybernetes, "I'd like to see what's in there."
Eurykles loosed the strings and shook out the jingling coins, arranging them in a row with one uncertain finger.
The kybernetes examined them and said, "I'm not a wealthy man, but I'll cover three, with the provision that I'm to judge whether a ghost has been produced."
Eurykles shook his head, nearly falling from his couch in the process. "Why, what protection would I have then? You might faint or run, but declare afterward… " He seemed to lose his thoughts, as drunken men often do. "Anything," he finished weakly.
Kalleos said, "I'll hold the money and judge. If you admit there was a ghost, you lose. Or if you run or faint, as Eurykles says. Otherwise, you win. Fair enough?"
"Absolutely," the kybernetes told her.
Eurykles mumbled, "That's only three. What of the other seven? Hardly worth my while."
The captain of Eidyia announced, "I'll cover one."
"And one for me," said the captain of Clytia.
"And the rest?" Eurykles looked at Pindaros. "You, sir? I'll make my fortune tonight, if I can."
"I haven't a copper," the poet told him. "As Kalleos will testify. Even if I did, I'd be betting with you rather than against you."
Hypereides said, "In that case, I'll cover the remaining five. Furthermore, I'll bet two with you, Pindaros-on trust. I go to Hill now and then, and the first time I do, I'll come by to collect."
"If you win," Pindaros told him. "Kalleos, if we're going to the burial ground, may I ask that we have Latro for a guard? The streets are dangerous by night, and we've all had a bit to drink."
CHAPTER XVI-In the City
Only soldiers are supposed to carry arms, so Kalleos told me. She gave me Gello's old gray cloak to cover my sword.
Eurykles had said the burial ground was not far from Kalleos's house, but it seemed far to me. I wondered whether I would be able to find the house again, or if the others could find it, for they were all somewhat drunk, and some were very drunk. Of the women, only Phye had come with us, Kalleos saying she would not walk so far to see a god, far less a ghost, and the rest admitting frankly that they would be frightened out of their wits if Eurykles won his bet.
Kalleos had provided two torches. I carried one and Phye the other. It was good she had it, for there were stones and fallen bricks everywhere, and yet the remaining walls (and many still stand) cast shadows that seemed blacker for the faint moonlight around them. I walked at the front of our procession. After me came Eurykles to direct me; Kalleos had given him a fowl for a sacrifice, and he carried it under his cloak, from which it voiced faint protests. In what order the rest walked, if there was any, I do not know, except that Phye brought up the rear.
When we reached the burial ground, Eurykles asked Hypereides whether there was any person there with whom he wished to speak. "If so," he said, "I'll attempt that first, as a courtesy to you. I reserve the right to raise another to settle our bet if I'm unsuccessful with the first. Have you a parent buried here, for example? Or anyone else whom you wish called home from the realm of shadow?"