"How eminently sensible," Chalmers said, collapsing cross-legged to the sand. Shea sat beside him.
"Now, dear Mr. Chalmers, tell me what has you so despondent. After all, things could be worse. You might have been on one of the ships that foundered or was lost. We might have fetched up on a hostile shore, or one inhabited by monsters. Really, things aren't so bad."
"I know," Chalmers said, "but we've been searching for Florimel for so long, and so far we've found no trace of her."
"Florimel?" Harmonia said. "Is that a woman?"
"The most beautiful woman in the world," Chalmers averred.
"Well, it's not a good idea to set your heart too keenly on one woman. That's what poor Prince Paris did, and look what happened to Troy because of that!"
"But Florimel is my wife," Chalmers said.
"Oh, that's different. It's all right to put yourself out a bit for a wife. How did you happen to misplace her? Did Achaean pirates carry her off?"
"Not exactly," Chalmers said.
"Well, don't lose heart. I'm sure you'll find her. We keep running into old friends from Troy, so there's no reason why you shouldn't find your wife.
They spent a couple of hours unsouring and desalinating wine that had gotten contaminated with seawater during the storm, and by the end of the job, Chalmers was restored to cheerfulness.
"You're looking better, Doc," Shea said.
"I think Harmonia is right. These epics always involve a great deal of coincidence, and people are always reencountering each other alter long separations and in unlikely places. We may just have fallen into the odd logic of ancient storytelling."
A horn blew and they looked up to see the hunters returning with the makings for dinner. Achates carried three dead stags and Aeneas four, a stag for each ship. These they dumped on the beach to be dressed, skinned and cooked by the slaves. Then they came walking toward the wine ship.
"Heads up, Doc, Shea said. "Here comes the boss."
"My friends," Aeneas addressed them, "during our hunt we encountered an adventure that was passing strange." He was not winded, despite the half-ton or so of stag he had just been carrying.
"Strange adventures often fall the lot of heroes," Chalmers observed.
"That is so," Aeneas said. "For on our hunt we met with my mother."
"The goddess Venus?" Chalmers said.
"Exactly. She appeared to us in the guise of a huntress, with bow and high-laced boots. She told us that this land belongs to a new city called Carthage. Its ruler is the daughter of the king of Tyre, Dido by name."
"Dido," Achates snorted. "What sort of name is that? Dido! It isn't a name. It sounds like one of those indecent objects that pack of sleazy Phoenician merchants tried to sell to us!"
"Peace, Achates," Aeneas said.
"Sorry, my lord."
"Anyway, friend Chalmers, I would see this city and perhaps look upon its Queen. But I would prefer to accomplish this unseen. Have you a spell for this?"
"Hmmmmm," Chalmers pondered. "I haven't attempted a spell of invisibility in this world ... that is to say, since coming from the Orient. However, if you will give me leave to think upon the problem, I believe I can come up with something!"
"Very good. We shall feast upon stag-flesh, then I shall call upon you again." He turned to go examine the altar his slaves had erected. As soon as Aeneas was away. Achates gave them a heady eye. "Where are those goats?"
"Here they are, dear," came Harmonia's cheery voice. A group of local villagers had come to the shore to trade with the newcomers. Harmonia came from the impromptu market leading two goats, one white and one black. "A lovely pair of prime billies, ripe as ancient cheese." She handed the lead ropes to her husband. "Now run along and give these to Lord Aeneas, love. He has his knife out already."
"All right," Achates said stiffly. "If you want to do these lowborn rascals' work for them, you won't catch me complaining about it." He stalked off, tugging the reluctant goats behind him.
"Can you do it, Doc? Invisibility is a pretty subtle business."
"I believe so. Invisibility occurs a number of times in the Greek myths. The helmet of Mercury confers it, for instance. Harmonia, would you happen to have a mirror you can bear to part with? A cheap one would be adequate. Ideal, in fact."
"I'm sure I have." She threw open a chest and rummaged around in its contents. "Ana!" She withdrew a flat disk of bronze with a wooden handle. "It's gone all dingy, but I could polish it up."
"Perfect,'' Chalmers said. "I'm afraid I'll have to damage it a little, but it should be repairable."
"Not to worry, love. Dear Achates will find me a really good one next time he sacks a village."
The afternoon was given over to gorging on stag-meat washed down with watered wine. Then everyone stretched out and took a much-needed siesta. About three o'clock, had there only been clocks, Aeneas' son shook Shea and Chalmers awake.
"My father wants to know if you have your spell ready," he said.
"I have. Tell your father we shall join him momentarily, Ascanius."
"My father says I'm to be called Julus from now on," the boy informed them. He ran back to his father, who was donning his most splendid armor.
"Why would Aeneas change his son's name?" Shea asked.
"Names were frequently changed to acknowledge some crucial event, such as the founding of a new city. But the real reason is that Virgil was writing propaganda for his patron, Augustus."
"Propaganda?"
"Yes. After the civil wars, everyone wanted stable, settled government. Augustus, nee Gaius Octavius, derived his legitimacy from his adoptive father, Julius Caesar. The Julian family traced its ancestry to Julus, the son of Aeneus, and thence to the goddess Venus. In Troy, the boy was called Ascanius. In Italy, he was, or rather will be, Julus." A look of enlightenment came over Chalmers' face. "That's it!"
"That's what?" Shea asked.
"Remember how I said that Aeneas looked familiar? Now I remember. He looks just like the portrait busts of Julius Caesar!"
"Whatever are you two babbling about?" Harmonia asked.
"Just sorcerer talk," Shea assured her. "Come on, Doc. The boss is getting impatient." They hurried over to where Aeneas and Achates stood.
"My lord," Chalmers said, "with a day or two to work on it, I could probably come up with a more efficient spell. As it is, my companion and I must go along with you to keep the spell working."
"I could not ask for doughtier or more loyal attendants," Aeneas said.
"Oh, bugger!" Achates murmured. "What was that, Achates?"
"I said, 'oh, wonderful', my lord."
"Excellent. Chalmers, work your enchantment."
Chalmers took the disk of thin bronze, now polished to reflective brilliance, in both hands. "Oh Helios, whose rays illuminate the world with incomparable beauty and glory, hear my supplication. As I bend this light-glancing mirror, so, I pray you, bend your rays around us four, so that they pass by us, never rebounding to strike the eyes of observers." Slowly, he bent the mirror until it formed a discoid half-circle, he then held it by the handle as it shimmered for a while, then became oddly opaque, as if it neither reflected nor absorbed light.
"Ready, my lord?" Chalmers said.
"Is that all?" Aeneas said. "I feel no different, and I see the three of you quite clearly."
"Yet we four," Chalmers told him, "who stand within the radius of my spell, are quite invisible to anyone outside the circle."
"Then let us go forth to look upon Carthage," Aeneas ordered.
The journey was not a long one. They passed through a brief stretch of fields and woods, then up to a rocky ridge line. From the top of the ridge, they looked down upon a spectacular scene. Below them, a great city was under construction. A girdling wall stood more than man-height, its defensive towers risen to twenty feet or more as wagons brought cut quarry blocks to raise them higher. Houses and temples stood already roofed, and men were digging away at a vast, semicircular foundation where soon a theater would rise. All around the new city, fields were under the plow and vineyards being laid out. It was a scene of beelike industry.