“I should think so. I saved his daughter’s life.”
“You exaggerate?”
“Almost never. In this case not at all.”
“Tell me more.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“Who else in the household will know you? Eutropius’s wife?”
“Eutropius is a widower. Anthea is his only child.”
“And the servants?”
“At least one of them should remember me. Ah, sweet Amestris…”
“A Persian girl?”
“Handmaiden to Anthea, the daughter of Eutropius.”
“Whose life you saved?”
“Amestris played a part, as well.”
“You really must tell me the whole story sometime. But now to the business at hand. The kind of slave assigned to answer a wealthy man’s door at night can sometimes be a bit difficult, unless he knows you, or you can convince him you have pressing business. If you were to speak, you’d be recognized at once as a Roman, and that might cause a stir.”
“Then I’ll let you speak for me. You’ll say that an old pupil has come to see Zoticus of Zeugma, a houseguest of his master.”
Samson nodded. “If pressed for details, we’ll pretend I’m your bodyguard, and traveled with you from Alexandria. The last part is true.”
“But not the first.”
“Do I not look the part?” Samson flexed his biceps. Like most men with large arms, Samson enjoyed showing them off.
There was an iron knocker on the door, shaped like a fish. Samson let it drop a couple of times, and in short order a peephole slid open. It was too dark to see the eyes that must have peered out, but the voice was that of a grown man.
“State your business.”
“An old pupil of Zoticus of Zeugma has come to see him.”
“Has he indeed?”
“Zoticus is staying here, isn’t he, as a guest of your master?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Perhaps you’d like to state the name of this one-time pupil?”
Samson was about to answer when I pulled him back and whispered in his ear. “The name Agathon of Alexandria will mean nothing to Zoticus, or to anyone else in the house.”
“Should I dare to use your real name, then? To a stranger behind a locked door? I fear we haven’t thought this through.”
The voice from the peephole grew impatient. “If you’re just going to waste my time, be on your way. And don’t hang about. The master is expecting guests soon-important guests. Begone!”
“No, wait!” said Samson. “I believe your master’s daughter has a handmaiden called Amestris.”
“Again, stranger, I would ask you to identify yourselves, especially if you expect me to answer any questions.”
“The man with me once saved the life of your master’s daughter, Anthea.”
“What nonsense is this?”
“Perhaps you don’t know the story, but your master will.”
“If you think I’m going to disturb the master by announcing some fellow who won’t even give his name, but makes wild claims-”
“Then go tell Amestris. Tell her the man who saved the life of her mistress is here. She’ll know who I mean.”
There was a long silence, then the peephole slid shut.
We waited so long that I began to wonder if we should knock again. Then the peephole slid open. I heard girlish laughter from the other side. A few moments later the door swung open. I stepped ahead of Samson into the softly lit vestibule.
“You, bodyguard! You’ll stay here with me,” said the man who had spoken through the peephole, assuming without being told that Samson was a strong-armer like himself. Pound for pound, he looked to be a fair match for Samson.
“And the man I’m guarding?” asked Samson.
“Him I’ll hand over to her.” The doorkeeper nodded to a figure who stepped from the shadows into the lamplight of the vestibule.
I recognized Amestris at once, but let out a gasp of surprise, for somehow she was not the same as I remembered her. Had my memories misled me, or had some curious magic been worked on her? She was neither more beautiful nor less, but different. Younger, I realized. It was as if, in the years since I had seen her, she had grown that much younger instead of older. But that was impossible.…
With an expression of impish glee, the girl watched the confused expressions on my face. She laughed and dared to take my arm, a rather bold thing for a slave to do, then pulled me into a hallway beyond the vestibule, away from the doorkeeper’s hearing.
“No, Gordianus, I’m not Amestris. I’m her little sister, Freny. Oh, but you look exactly as I pictured you.”
“You’ve heard of me, then?”
“The man who saved our mistress? Oh, I’ve heard all about you.”
“Whereas I had no idea you existed.” I couldn’t stop staring at her. The resemblance to her sister was uncanny. It was as if I had stepped back in time to meet Amestris as she must have been when she was barely a teenager.
“You were here in Ephesus so briefly, we simply didn’t have a chance to meet. I was only a child then, anyway, and they kept me in another part of the house. But come,” Freny said, taking my hand-again, exercising a most unslavelike liberty. “I’ll take you to Amestris. We’ll surprise her.”
“Surprise?”
“I came for you myself and didn’t bother to tell her, because she’s too busy-oh, you’ll see for yourself!”
I allowed the girl to lead me by the hand, through the garden at the heart of the house and then up a flight of steps.
“Of course, I shouldn’t be allowing a man, any man, into this part of the house, but, well, everyone knows who you are and what you did for the mistress. Oh, and I thought you had traveled off to the farthest ends of the earth and that I should never have a chance to meet you, but here you are!”
“Your sister and mistress speak well of me, then?”
Freny laughed. “Ah, you’re modest, as well. Of course they speak well of the brave young Roman who-”
“Oh, not so very brave,” I said, simply to interrupt her. She had already spoken my name aloud, and now had identified me as a Roman to anyone who might overhear, though at the moment I saw no one about. “On the occasion of which you speak, your sister was no less brave, and perhaps even more so-being a girl and a slave, I mean.”
“Oh, and freeborn males are necessarily more courageous than slave girls?” asked Freny, rolling her eyes. There seemed no end to her cheekiness. “Here we are,” she said, stopping at a closed door and gently rapping on it.
“Who’s there?” called someone from the other side. Hearing that voice, my heart beat faster.
“It’s only me,” said Freny. “And a surprise visitor.”
“Surprise?”
“You’ll see. Open the door, sister!”
A moment later the door began to open, slowly, so that the person on the other side could peek out discreetly with one eye. In that eye I saw at first caution, then a blink of surprise, then a wide-open stare expressing alarm or delight, or both.
The door swung open. Before me stood Amestris.
XXI
She was as beautiful as I remembered.
No, she was more beautiful.
She wore a garment with sleeves that modestly covered her arms and legs, and with a neckline that only hinted at the fullness of her breasts. Her beautiful body, that I remembered so well, was thus hidden, but no matter; this only served to concentrate my gaze on her face. I looked at it as a man looks at a much-loved city when arriving by ship, noting one by one each fondly remembered landmark: the smooth, olive complexion, the sensual mouth, the elegant nose, the dark eyes of Amestris.
“Gordianus!” she whispered. I couldn’t tell which was greater, her alarm or delight, but Freny read her sister’s expression more adroitly, for she clapped her hands and laughed with joy, and a moment later I was enveloped in the warm embrace of Amestris.
I would happily have remained in that embrace-I began to feel a stirring of arousal almost at once-but a moment later Amestris stepped back, holding my shoulders and looking into my eyes. I had to look up a bit to meet her gaze; I had forgotten she was slightly taller than me. That had made no difference when we had been horizontal together.