Zopyros groaned. "Because, darling, that's just what I am a stupid ox at. I'm a pretty good engineer, if I do say so. But, when it comes to handling people, I'm as incompetent as that man Lithodomos is at engineering."
"But, Zopyros, one has to learn these things!"
"I know, but sometimes I think I never shall. When somebody talks nonsense, I come right out and tell him it's nonsense, giving him logical proofs. And, of course, any man of the world will tell you that's not how to persuade and beguile people. Do you still want to marry such a thickskin?"
"Oh, I knew all about you when I said I'd marry you."
He reached for her, but she glided away. "No, dearest! If you once held me close, the gods alone know what might happen."
"Oh, don't be—"
"Keep your voice down! If the family found us talking unchaperoned, you'd be out the door before you could say alpha-beta. Promise you will try to handle Father in the morning, though!"
"I'll—I'll—oh, to the afterworld with all these marriage contracts and parental negotiations and dowries and ceremonies! Why don't we just elope?"
"What! You mean to have a common-law marriage, like poor working folk?"
"Well—ah—yes, I suppose I do mean that. I hope I haven't offended you?"
"No, not really. It takes a lot to shock a double widow like me. In fact, it's something of a compliment to be wanted for oneself and not for the property one brings. But I love my father and wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Besides, darling, you're not thinking far enough ahead."
"How so?"
"Your father would be as furious at you as mine would be with me."
"Let 'em. They'll get over it."
"Now—let me think—I don't know just how to say it—" She sat for a while with chin in hand, while Zopyros devoured her with his eyes. Then she spoke again:
"You're thinking: I can make a good living, family or none, so why not take what I want, and to tire crows with them? Isn't that so?"
"Well, yes."
"But you don't know what nasty surprises the gods may have in store. We live in a world of frightful danger and mischance. Every year we hear that some great city has been smitten by a plague, or has been destroyed by an earthquake, or has been sacked and its people massacred and enslaved. Not a year goes by but that we learn some friend or kinsman has been murdered by robbers, or been kidnapped by slavers, or fallen in battle, or perished of disease. You think, because of your fine position with Dionysios, that you are riding in Zeus's wallet. But how do we know the future? This Dionysios is a bloody adventurer—"
"Not really. He's a brilliant statesman—"
"Brilliant, perhaps; but watch what he does, not what he says. Nature will out. So next year, you may be slain in one of his broils; and then what would become of me if I had turned my back on my family? Or suppose Dionysios were overthrown or murdered? Even if you escaped from Syracuse, where would you go then, if you were at outs with your family? We need all the anchors we can set out. A woman has to think of these things. A woman can't flit about the Inner Sea, living on odd jobs picked up here and there. So, will you please try to handle Father?"
"I'll do my poor best. Whoever said women were less practical than men doesn't know a mountain from a mushroom."
"You needn't actually crawl. Tell him that crack on the head has addled your wits—just a little, you know."
Next morning, Zopyros breakfasted with Xanthos and his family, all self-consciously taciturn and evasively polite. At last he said to his host: "May I speak to you in private, sir?"
"I suppose so," growled Xanthos. "Go on, the rest of you."
"Well, sir," said Zopyros, "first I must apologize for my rude, rash words of last night. Of course I don't really contemn the traditions of our ancestors ..."
Zopyros went on, saying little in many words, walking a tightrope between groveling and defiance, and despising himself all the while. Xanthos' jowly face never changed until little Hieron came into the court, crying:
"Won't somebody play ball with me? Dear Zopyros, please throw me the ball!"
At that, Xanthos' stern visage softened. He sighed. "For the sake of my grandson, I'll overlook a good deal. But I still won't allow the wedding until the propitious day, ten months hence."
"Necessity is a hard master, sir. But couldn't we at least have the formal betrothal now?"
"Yes, we could. How much longer can you stay?"
"Five or six days."
"Then I'll give a feast the night before you depart."
Messana's city wall was as dilapidated as ever; Kylon's tavern, as crowded. When Zopyros visited it with Glaukos, a Greek sea captain was giving the news of the world:
"... Derkylidas, the Spartan general in Asia, has made a truce with the Persians and invaded Thrace, where the barbarians were attacking the Greek cities of the Thracian peninsula. The Spartan has driven out the Thracians and built a wall across the peninsula to protect it. The Spartans have restored peace in Trachinian Herakleia by killing all the men of one faction in the recent civil strife. At home, they have crushed a plot to overthrow the rule of the Peers. The Athenians have put to death the philosopher Sokrates, whom they tried and convicted on charges of corrupting the youth of Athens and introducing strange gods into the city. The Persians have made the Athenian Konon their admiral ..."
A small, nondescript man pushed through the crowd towards Zopyros, who recognized him as he came closer. "Asto! How's the bold mariner?"
Asto bowed. "By the grace of the gods of Canaan, my lord Zopyros, I do well. I have my own ship now. And you?"
"I've been working for Dionysios. Engineering."
"Indeed? Then I may see you anon; for my masters have put me on the run between Motya and Syracuse."
"How come you to be in Messana? I thought all merchantmen were laid up for the winter."
"They are; I came on muleback."
"You? A sailor?"
"Yes, and the sorest-arsed sailor you ever saw. My masters sent me to buy ship timbers. What are these rumors I hear of Dionysios?"
"What rumors?"
"Oh, that he will conquer the world, like a Greek Cyrus; that he will make Syracuse a greater city than Athens and Babylon put together; that he spends his time cowering in fear of assassins. Where lies the truth amongst all these fables?"
Zopyros shrugged. "The big boss doesn't confide his political plans to me."
"What in particular do you do for him?"
"Why, I'm working on a wonderful new inv—" Zopyros began with enthusiasm, but remembered and cut himself off. "I—ah—suggest—ah—improvements in the city's defenses."
Asto smiled. "I see it is true what they say, that Dionysios swears his workers to secrecy about their tasks. Well, here's hoping that his plans—whatever they be—won't bring destruction upon us all."
"I'm sure they won't. In many ways he's an enlightened ruler."
"I hope so. But you know how it is with these mighty men. To them, we are no more than insects are to the boys who pull off their legs and wings. When I was in Carthage last autumn, a man appeared before the Senate, claiming to be a Punic engineer who had worked for Dionysios but had run away because of mistreatment. He brought news of fantastic weapons, which, he said, Dionysios was preparing against the Canaanites. He told of a device to shoot arrows from Syracuse to Carthage, and a war galley the size of a city, and other marvels. I wondered if these tales had any basis."
"Oh, nonsense! We try to see that the city is well stocked with up-to-date weapons, that's all. What happened to the fugitive engineer?"
"The Senate in its wisdom decided that, since these tales were obviously untrue, the man must be a Greek spy, sent by Dionysios to spread terror in Carthage and weaken the Republic. So they had him crucified."