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'In what way?' Byrria responded drily. Then she smiled again. She was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman; the fact that she was barely twenty suddenly became more evident. She had enjoyed herself tonight; we could satisfy ourselves with that. Tonight she was as near to contentment as she might ever be. It made her look vulnerable for once. Even Musa seemed more mature, and more her equal.

'Don't mind us.' Helena spoke informally, licking sauce off her hand where she had picked up a sticky plate. 'You have to make your life as you wish. The important thing is to find and to keep real friends.' Reluctant to make too much of it, she went into the tent with the pile of dishes.

I was not prepared to let this go so easily. 'Even so, that doesn't mean she ought to be afraid of men!'

'I fear no one!' Byrria shot back, with a burst of her hot temper. It was a passing moment; her voice dropped again. Staring at a tray she had picked up, she added, 'Maybe I just fear the consequences.'

'Very wise!' quipped Helena, reappearing in an instant. 'Think of Phrygia whose whole life has been embittered and ruined by having a baby and marrying wrongly. She lost the child, she lost her chance to develop fully as an actress, and I think maybe she also gave up the man she should really have been with all these years – '

'You give a bad example,' Musa broke in. He was terse. 'I could say, look at Falco and you!'

'Us?' I grinned. Somebody had to play the fool and lighten the conversation. 'We're just two completely unsuitable people who knew we could have no future together but liked each other enough to go to bed for a night.'

'How long ago was that?' demanded Byrria hotly. Not a girl who could take irony.

'Two years,' I confessed.

'That's your one night?' laughed Byrria. 'How carefree and cosmopolitan! And how long, Didius Falco, do you suppose this unsuitable relationship may last?'

'About a lifetime,' I said cheerfully. 'We're not unreasonable in our hopes.'

'So what are you trying to prove to me? It seems contradictory.'

'Life is contradictory sometimes, though most times it just stinks.' I sighed. Never give advice. People catch you out and start fighting back. 'On the whole, I agree with you. So, life stinks; ambitions disappoint; friends die; men destroy and women disintegrate. But if, my dear Byrria and Musa, you will listen to one kind word from a friend, I should say, if you do find true affection, never turn your back on it.'

Helena, who was standing behind me, laughed lovingly. She ruffled my hair, then bent over me and kissed my forehead. 'This poor soul needs his bed. Musa, will you see Byrria safely to her tent?'

We all said our goodnights, then Helena and I watched the others go.

They walked uneasily together, space showing between them. They did stroll slowly, as if there might be things to be said, but we could not hear them talking as they left. They appeared to be strangers, and yet if I had given a professional judgement I would have said they knew more about each other than Helena and I supposed.

'Have we made a mistake?'

'I don't see what it can be, Marcus.'

We had done, though it was to be some time before I understood the obvious.

Helena and I cleared the debris and did what packing we needed, ready to drive on before dawn. Helena was in bed when I heard Musa returning. I went out and found him crouched beside the remnants of the fire. He must have heard me, but he made no move to evade me, so I squatted alongside. His face was buried in his hands.

After a moment I thumped his shoulder consolingly. 'Did something happen?'

He shook his head. 'Nothing that matters.'

'No. I thought you had the miserable air of a man with a clean conscience. The girl's a fool!'

'No, she was kind.' He spoke offhandedly, as if they were friends.

'Talk about it if you want, Musa. I know it's serious.'

'I never felt like this, Falco.'

'I know.' I let a moment pass before I spoke again. 'Sometimes the feeling goes away.'

He looked up. His face was drawn. Intense emotion racked him. I liked the poor idiot; his unhappiness was hard to contemplate. 'And if not?' he squeezed out.

I smiled sadly. 'If not, there are two alternatives. Most frequently – and you can guess this one – everything sorts itself out because the girl leaves the scene.'

'Or?'

I knew how low the chances were. But with Helena Justina asleep a few feet away, I had to acknowledge the fatal possibility: 'Or sometimes your feeling stays – and so does she.'

'Ah!' Musa exclaimed softly, as if to himself. 'In that case what am I to do?' I assumed he meant, If I do win Byrria, what am I to do with her?

'You'll get over this, Musa. Trust me. Tomorrow you could wake up and find yourself adoring some languid blonde who always wanted a flurry with a Nabataean priest.'

I doubted it. But on the off chance that he might be needing his strength, I hauled Musa to his feet and made him go to bed.

Tomorrow, if a cold blast of sanity seemed less likely to damage him, I would explain my theory that it is better to show off your multifaceted personality in their own language than to bore them stiff reciting poetry they cannot understand. If that failed, I would just have to get him interested in drinking, rude songs, and fast chariots.

Chapter LI

Canatha.

It was an old, walled, isolated city huddled on the northern incline of the basalt plain. As the only habitation of any substance in this remote area, it had acquired a special reputation and a special atmosphere. Its territory was small. Its commercial activity was greater, for a major trade route up from Bostra came this way. Even with the fine Hellenic attributes we had come to expect – the high acropolis, civilised amenities, and heavy programme of civic refurbishment – Canatha had strange touches. Hints of both Nabataean and Parthian architecture mingled exotically with its Greek and Roman features.

Though it lay too far out to be at risk of jealous Jewish incursions, there were other dangers lurking beyond the close clasp of its walls. Canatha was a lonely outpost in traditional bandit country. The mood here reminded me more of frontier fortresses in Germany and Britain than the pleasure-grasping, money-loving cities further west in the Decapolis. This was a self-reliant, self-involved community. Trouble had always lain not far outside the city gates.

We, of course, as a hapless band of vagabonds, were scrutinised keenly in case we were bringing trouble in with us. We played it straight, patiently letting them question and search us. Once in, we found the place friendly. Where craftsmen look long distances for influences, there is often a welcome for all comers. Canatha lacked prejudice. Canatha liked visitors. Canatha, being a town many people omitted from their itinerary, was so grateful to see travelling entertainers that its audiences even liked us.

The first play we gave them was The Pirate Brothers, which Chremes was determined to rehabilitate after the slurs cast upon it by the Bostra magistrate. It was well received, and we busily plundered our repertoire for The Girl from Andros and

Plautus' Amphitryon (one of Chremes' beloved gods-go-a-fornicating japes). I was anticipating thunder from Musa over Amphitryon but luckily the play had only one substantial female part, the virtuous wife unknowingly seduced by Jupiter, and this role was snatched by Phrygia. Byrria only got to play a nurse; she had one scene, at the very end, and no hanky-panky. She did get a good speech, however, where she had to describe the infant Hercules dispatching a snake with his chubby little hands.

To liven things up, Helena constructed a strangled snake to appear in the play. She stuffed a tube made from an old tunic and sewed on eyes with fringed, flirty lashes to produce a python with a silly expression (closely based on Thalia's Jason). Musa made it a long forked tongue, utilising a piece of broken belt. Byrria, who unexpectedly turned out to be a comedienne, ran on-stage with this puppet dangling limply under her elbow, then made it waggle about as if it was recovering from strangulation, causing her to beat it into submission irritatedly. The unscripted effect was hilarious. It caused a joyous roar at Canatha, but earned some of us a reprimand from Chremes, who had not been forewarned.