The Beginning.

"Once upon a time there was a pretty blue planet, and on this planet lived a queen. The Queen and Night had a daughter and The Princess lived on the blue planet's satellite, she ruled that place. There were other daughters, but they were outshone by this oldest one. Then, one day I Am (who is what it is) sent a messenger to The Queen to say this: You are Queen here because I Am wishes it and I Am has not wished for you to bring daughters into the world. Your daughters must be destroyed.

"Of course The Queen would not destroy her daughters, so I Am sent its son to destroy them. And The Son rent the belly of The Queen with a flaming sword so that she could bear no more children. His soldiers fell on the young princesses and destroyed them, all but the eldest princess who was spared. And The Son took the eggs from the belly of The Queen so that she would not be able to create more daughters, and The Son threw them in the endless sea.

"The coming of I Am's son had disturbed all the nearby planets and their rulers, and while the Prince of the Morningstar took the wounded queen into his house and comforted her the others were inspired with more fear and awe of I Am than they had ever had. Even The Queen's eldest daughter went over to that side, and was kept watch over, as her mother's vacant wounded world was, by The Captain of the Guard, the one who's countenance goes red during times of strife and battle and pale during times of peace, the one who weighs the lives of all others.

"For aeons there was relative peace under the rule of I Am and The Son. This race of creatures who have stood watch since before our time, whom I will call from now Angels, kept from fighting each other. And as they watched the spilt blood of The Queen mixed with the waters of the wounded planet and on the foamy ragged shores living things were brought forth. But The Queen was no longer herself, in The Prince's house lay a creature only part what she had been, only part remembering. But The Prince said to her, 'You still have The Queen's blood, there are those among us who know The Art, which creates life from what is written in blood. Your daughter could help us.'

"And so Morningstar went to The Princess and asked her to help in this. And being attracted by two forces of attraction The Princess split. Now, their kind could do this. Many times one of them would split, as we know cells do, sometimes becoming two identical beings, other times one becoming changed, or even both, so that each had only certain aspects of the original being. And sometimes the split was lopsided so that a large body gave birth to many small ones, as The Queen had brought forth daughters. And so it went that The Princess from then on were The Two Princesses, twins they were called, and The Sweet Sisters, as they were not inclined to do wrong. But one only remained regent of the moon, the dark-haloed one. The other, who did help her mother out of love, left when this was done, to be closer to I Am and remained a favourite despite her action.

"The Queen was not to be restored by the art, but they created another child that would be child to The Queen. And so Eros, a son, was brought into being, fathered by The Prince of the Morningstar. And it was planned by his parents that none would resist him, and one day he would take vengeance for his mother.

"That is all you need to know about the very beginning," said Chris.

"Oh. And then what happened?"

"I can see it will take quite some time to tell this story to you," Chris said.

b b b

"Around the year 3bc a boy was born under the sign of The Cross. The Cross was the name of a certain star, a star unlike others because it only appeared at certain times. Perhaps a comet, perhaps not. And The Cross symbolised death.

"This boy was not that one born in Bethlehem. No, he was born in Alexandria, a place of learning, a place of trade. His father was a Greek, a tutor in the service of a certain Roman official there, as the Romans had ruled Alexandria for some time. His mother came to Alexandria from Upper Egypt and had a lot of the Ethiopians in her, and though she was low born she had the blood of old Pharaohs in her handed down by their bastards. She never lived as any man's wife and she spent lots of time living with other women in the artisans' communes of which there were still a few to be found there. The boy was called Paris.

"Was that his name?"

"It was what he was called," said the man called Chris.

"Paris lived with his mother and these other women for the first two or three years of his life. The women told him all the secrets they knew in whispers. And with a certain whisper Mother gave to Paris an ankh, which some other woman made a gold chain for.

"When he was three they sent him to live with his father. The Greek didn't have a house of his own, but lived with his master as a trusted advisor where he did translations of foreign languages and read legal documents and sometimes, at night, even poetry. Both The Greek and his dark-skinned son were well taken care of there. The Master of the House had a family, but all his sons were grown and had their own careers. He had no living wife. He had only many servants and lots of money. And so Paris had nice clothes and maids to bathe him and plait his hair. And he might wander into offices or studies any time he liked and no one would be angry, they would think it charming, in that house. And so at a very young age this boy, Paris, could read both Greek and Latin, he could speak Egyptian, and he could even write some Roman letters.

"And at a certain age Paris began running away from The Master's house. He'd wander through the city looking for new things to learn. Some of The Master's servants would always come and find him, dirty, starving, and exhausted lying in a street clutching some scroll. They'd take him home and feed him, give him a bath. The Greek never struck his son. I don't suppose it ever occurred to him. He was after all very fond of his strange son. And so he gave lectures instead. Sometimes Paris even listened.

"By the time he was 10 Paris knew to take food from The Master's house before running away, how to steal it on the street, or how to look at people in just such a way that they would buy him something to eat and even smile doing it. Paris always had that power over people.

"And so eventually he found a woman who had a husband who owned a ship and who was going to leave for other ports very soon. Paris persuaded this woman who thought him an orphan to take him along. Her husband didn't object. Usually he didn't have his wife on such trips, but he had this time, and having a stupid boy to take care of would keep her busy.

"Paris got to see many foreign ports, if only for a few days. He absorbed everything, how the ship was operated, what was picked up, what was sold and where. He saw how the pilot navigated the ship. And when they arrived in Athens one day Paris ran away again."

b b b

"Athens was not unlike a city such as New York is now. People lived above or behind storefronts and cities were crowded. The streets were littered with trash. It was noisy. Some buildings were centrally heated by steam just like the old buildings in New York; in summer you had fans to cool you off. You got water from your well, or it pumped into your house from one. And Paris lived on the streets of this city, Athens."

Chris sighed and then went on, "Imagine this boy Paris, fourteen years old, but tall for that age, wearing a torn dusty tunica and sandals that need mending, hair coming out of its braids, dirt on his face, under his fingernails, smelling of sweat: all in all a horrible mess. Imagine this boy digging through a dumpster in an alley, only, then it would have been simply a trash pile. Quite possibly they made no separation between old food and sewage, and so it was really a messy thing: looking for food.

"Paris looked up, maybe he heard a noise, I don't know, but he turned full around and looked up. And there he saw a very unusual boy standing in the back door of the nearest house."

There was an awkward moment as Daniel stretched out on the sofa and their gazes tangled with each other. But Daniel was quiet and Chris went on. He began by describing the unusual boy. And Daniel let his eyes close as he listened, let himself see the story as if he might be there in Athens with the two boys.

He was a Greek as Paris' father had been with hair the colour of sand and green eyes. Not emerald, Chris was saying, like milky jade. He was wearing an old fashioned chiton, something much more loose and flimsy than the tunica the Romans wore, and this was made of silk, as if long ago someone had dressed this boy up and then forgotten him. And if that were not enough to make his appearance unusual he had a woman's girdle laced about his waist and buskins on his feet, which were the shoes the actors wore, rather like modern platform shoes.

"Well, hello, Little Brother," the boy said, and of course Chris was translating, "come into the house, I'll get you something to eat." And as Paris was starving and the boy seemed so friendly Paris followed him into the kitchen at the back of the house.

The boy sat with Paris at a table, chatting him up. A maid brought bread and watered down wine to the table, served them and then left. Paris ate, soaking the hard bread in a bowl of wine piece by piece and then devouring it. He guessed the boy to be several years older than him, and he guessed him to be a slave.

A bald woman came into the room then wearing only a long embroidered robe. At first she didn't mind them, but went to the oven where she lit a switch and used it to light a small wooden pipe she held in one hand. When the boy asked, Paris said that he was called Paris. And the other boy told Paris to name him. And so Paris closed his eyes and when he opened them he knew the boy's name. "Star," he said. And Star said that he thought he liked the sound of that.

Naming the stars...somewhere in a story someone had the job of naming all the stars. Already Daniel could identify with the boy; he had been named many times.

The bald woman laughed, said something quickly to Star that Paris didn't quite hear. The bald woman had a very pretty face without eyebrows, these she drew on with the same kohl she used to outline her dark eyes, and her lips were waxed red. She stood smoking from this little pipe and teasing Star. "You better put on your wig, Metro, before The Master sees you," Star would say.

And Metro put a hand beneath Paris' jaw and lifted his face. "Well, as you obviously haven't any money, Dear Little Brother, and your friend Star so likes the look of you we'd better sneak you up the stairs before anyone else sees you here." And it occurred to Paris then that Metro was one of the hetairai, the prostitutes of those days of which there were still a few to be found in Athens, trained from childhood in subjects such as reading, and music, as well as erotic arts. The hetairai were the only really independent women in Greece. Prostitutes were really the only independent women there, and only because they let men believe they were actually in charge.

They took Paris to Metro's room and washed him. Star gave him a tunic to wear saying it was the most respectable garment he owned. Metro sat at her dressing table looking quite calm as she smoked. There was a small hearth there with hot coals she used to keep her pipe lit as well as to heat her hair irons. Metro had Paris sit before her then and pressed his hair straight with her irons, laying spit curls on his forehead then combing the rest back and tying the ends into a pigtail. "There, you look a proper boy now," Metro said. She kissed him, leaving a red mark on Paris' cheek. And then she told Star he'd better get the boy out of the house.

But Star didn't take him back down to the kitchen, instead he walked Paris down another hall. And when they stopped at a certain door Star smiled mischievously before opening it. "I want you to meet a friend of mine," he said.

It was a small dark cell with only a bed and on the bed lay a young woman in a long white chiton. She was crying. "Lily," Star called to her. "Aw, don't cry today, I brought someone to see you."

The girl sat up quickly, twisted around to stare at Paris with watery eyes. "You brought someone here?"

"No," Star said and explained that he didn't mean he'd brought someone she must have sex with. Still, Lily couldn't imagine why Paris was there. She thought he must be a new slave. Paris pointed out straightaway that his father was a famous scholar, he was freeborn, a citizen even.

Lily seemed just a little cheered then. Still, she was sad. As the three of them lay on the same bed speaking to each other as young people do Lily said that she was ruined now. Star had been born to it, what did he care if he was a whore, but she'd been stolen from her home and sold in a market. And worse since she hadn't been born in the house she'd never been trained to do the clever things the hetairai could do. She'd never be independent even if she somehow earned her freedom. She'd never marry either.

"Aw, Lily, the women would teach you if you let them. The Master only locks you up in here because you're so disagreeable. It doesn't have to be so bad, if you just give in a little. If you'd just pretend to give in, you'd really be so much more in control," said Star.

"I do not want to be a whore my entire life, letting any man who pays me touch me as he pleases."

"Stupid gyne," said Star, "you don't understand. You're beautiful. They'll beg and bend and do as you say, buy you presents. All you have to do is show them a little affection."

"Don't call her that, women aren't all stupid child makers. They can be famous athletes, or spies, or queens, or scholars..." Paris said.

"Paris, Paris, you're such a child," Star said.

"Well I'm smart enough to live on my own. Lily could do it."

"Don't fool yourself, Little Brother, she'd never be able to live on the street. A girl? Never. Lily wants impossible things. Marriage and independence. Money and Love. It's just impossible."

"Paris, Darling, help me get away from here," Lily said to him suddenly. "I can do anything any boy can do."

"Not everything, Little Sister," Star laughed.

Lily gave him a nice smile then, "Come with us Star," she said. But Star didn't seem too eager. "Don't you think I know how it is. You're seventeen. They don't think you a pretty boy anymore."

"Liar! Everyone thinks me beautiful, even more beautiful than I was at fifteen."

"Let's run away," Lily said.

And so they went out of the house the way they'd come and into the streets. The first thing they did was to get some sleep on the steps on one of Athena's temples. The second they did upon waking which was to steal some new clothes. They climbed up a tree into someone's bedroom window.

Paris took the pigtail out and seeing his long hair still half pressed straight and sticking out every way he got angry and took up a pair of shears. He cut his hair all down to an inch's length. He saw Lily looking at him strangely, big brown eyes and reddish-brown hair that Roman woman would have killed for. And she cut it all off. Lily cut off her life's-growth of auburn hair tied it in a knot and kept it with her. She took a boy's tunica sandals and small cloak from the house, scrubbed her face and went about as a boy.

Paris, Star, and Lily made a life together. They picked pockets and swindled foreigners out of money doing things like selling them bad directions. Sometimes they would throw pebbles up the latticed window of Metro's room until she came to the window. The Master might kill them if they came back, she said. But it was Metro who became their agent in a way. She took Lily's hair to a wigmaker and when work was done brought to Lily a simple wig made of her own hair so that Lily might appear a lady on the street if she wanted. And it was Metro who introduced them to a certain corset maker who measured Lily and constructed a padded corset that flattened her breasts and padded her waistline so that she appeared to have the figure of a young man. And when they stole jewellery Metro would pawn it for them.

After a year or so they were living out of a small house in a neighbourhood where many freedmen lived. Paris had a plan to go into business, they needed a partner, he said. And so through Metro again they became acquatinted with a Tyrean merchant who had some indigo. He'd lost his crew and damaged his ship coming from Tyre but the indigo was still in his possession if they could find a ship, he'd make them partners.

Pooling their money together and making a few last burglaries they afforded a small sail ship and a drunken pilot, and a few extra hands. The three young people boarded the ship with the Tyrean Captain and crew and they set out for Rome. Paris knew how to navigate tolerably well himself, and so they were in no danger during the hours the pilot passed out. And the hired crew didn't have anything against teaching the boys to sail as long as they still got their money. And just to make sure the Captain wouldn't try cheating them come Rome, Star would, dressed as a woman, lay in his cabin with him showing him whatever affection he needed to make him loyal.

And when they had time together it was curled up in a strong hammock below the deck. Lily would teach Paris how to kiss and Star would teach Lily sex didn't have to hurt. And always one was the voyeur.

They made a lot of money in the deal with the Romans. Romans were used to losing in deals with Easterners, they were such slaves to fashion and spice. And so they picked up some glass objects, some beads and jewellery, and a large quantity of grape wine. In Alexandria it was wheat, ivory, cotton, incense. In Tyre their partner made deals with caravaners for silks, gems, spices, wood. From Crete they got relics, sometimes in Rome you found spoils from the North, bits of amber, furs.

After some time they became a success. Their partner, Nirari, had a sort of friendly affection for the three young people. At least he found them entertaining. Paris everyone always thought brilliant. And so still half-partners in this shipping company the more ships they got the more were put in Paris' control alone. He sent an agent to buy Star and Lily's papers from their old master. And at the same time Metro retired from the house. They could afford their own house then. And so Paris turned over the actual shipping to captains he had come to trust, rewarding those who made the best deals well so as to keep loyalty.

It wasn't a big house, but it was flamboyant in decoration, trophies of sorts from all parts of the empire, and as they owned the storefront below they sold to Athenians who could afford it things such as Roman clothing and jewellery, bits of carved ivory, scraps of silk, Celtic jewellery, any trinket they could find that wasn't really worth keeping. When Metro suggested bringing in more opium, they arranged with Nirari to get more.

On one occasion Nirari was gone an especially long time and so when he next came to Athens they had him to the house. He gifted them with a great amount of silk and opium, huge pearls from Chin and artworks and fine cotton from Hind. Nirari told them how he had gone with the caravan all the way to the Stone Tower and seen the Eastern border of the Empire, met with the Chinese, made love to exotic women. The Hindu figures amazed Paris as much as the story. He thought them exquisite and beautiful.

"Like you," was all Star had to say and it was done. Paris had known since the first time they'd lain eyes on each other. He'd known when Star followed Lily and him into this life, when Star gazed at him across the hammock on the ship. Paris had always known it would happen, just, not when.

And so it happened, tangled close on Paris' narrow bed learning to kiss each other. Paris letting Star teach him how to make love. Lily was never jealous. She might skip into the room as they were snuggled together and lay atop one or the other showing them that Metro had taught her to fake an orgasm, but she was never jealous. Lily was always the one more excited by the things about letters and numbers that Paris could teach her.

It was a happy time for Paris, living with his two loves, his family, either one of them who might appear man or woman on the street.

But it does seem all good things come to an end. And this ending was a bad one. Since moving into the new house and gaining his freedom Star had been buying his own slaves, all young and pretty. Paris would go about behind him giving them their papers and dropping coins in their eager little hands. Star didn't care, free or not they had nowhere else to go, and so they stayed to populate the house.

And then Star began making lovers of them. An ebony-skinned woman one day, a blonde boy from Gaul the next. And Paris would get so angry. Of course he knew if the roles were reversed, if Paris ever dared to take any lover but Star there would be a murder. The lover, Paris, a suicide, whatever would make the most dramatic show of Star's jealousy and small power to wound Paris. Boys like Star were so infamous that in Athen's earlier days when any prominent man was found murdered they would think first to look for some boy he might either have spurned or molested. But it was not Paris who was cheating, it was Star, and so there was no murder. There were only lectures, and fits of screaming.

And every child in the house thought that pair of pretty boys their masters, and every one of them fell silent when they fought. "I don't want any whores and slaves, I'm sick to death of whores and slaves!" The children would mimic Paris the next day.

And Star would make things all right by making a point of struggling to read Plato, or reciting aloud from Aristophanes' The Birds.

But then the worst fight came. Paris walked into his room and found Star in his bed with the son of Lily's freedwoman maid. A freeborn boy, so young, and yet Star had brought himself to what seemed an epic orgasm over the thing. Paris began cursing him right there. If he'd killed Star no one would have really blamed him. "You slut, you whore!"

"My pimp. Master, puller of the puppets' strings. The child with his playthings."

And Paris would say something that might mean as much as, "You fucking cunt how dare you?"

And Paris would say more words he would regret in the morning. He said more things he would never be able to take back. "I never loved you, I always thought you were a whore, and you are, you couldn't be satisfied with having me no matter how much I spend to feed and clothe you, no, you have to take up with all manner of children to satisfy your vanity, you tired old whore."

And then Paris made something of a dramatic show of taking clothes and scrolls from their places and setting out his bags. The young boy was crying where he sat on his bed and Star was running about the room after Paris without clothes on. "Where are you going?" He kept crying, "Paris, where are you going?"

"Away," was all Paris would say.

b b b

Paris lived on a boat for several months, thinking. What was it about Star that had upset him? His infidelity? But logic said that should have been expected. Or that Star seemed to need other lovers while Paris had desire only for Star? Perhaps it was that Paris had become too possessive; saw himself as a master in Star's eyes. And he could not bear that, could not admit and accept his flaw.

He decided then he would go to Rome for a while, perhaps present himself as a tutor. He left his share of their company in Lily's control and went to Rome on the next of his galleys that was going that way.

Paris did not understand Rome, its many unwritten codes, but because of that he wanted to stay, he wanted to be somewhere he might learn something new. He lived in small rented apartments while looking for a position. He had with him letters of introduction from people he had come to make friendships with, some wealthy Athenian merchants, some Romans who lived abroad and who remembered his clever dinner conversation. And of course he had his father's name. It was not well known that his father had had a son, but then it was not unknown.

None of the Patrician families were willing to hire him, too much the slaves of fashion to hire someone so young as a tutor or advisor. And Paris had no interest in being something of a baby-sitter. So he began presenting himself to the Equites, the class of families below the old families. And he had luck. A certain Equite whose family had once been much better off and influential than it was "struggling to keep up with the Joneses" as one might say today. The Equite had three sons and one daughter and it could be bet that if there had ever been another daughter she would have been abandoned, but even the Romans cared for eldest daughters. It was the three sons he wanted Paris to tutor. The youngest son he might teach some letters to if he had the time, but it was the older boys the Equite wanted to be able to read, to know their histories, to be able to debate. And in return Paris would be given a room in the house, a salary, and one household slave to assist him.

Paris accepted the position. Only, when he saw the slave they sent to him he asked they give him any other, an old hag from the kitchen if they like, but not the young boy. It was arranged with shrugs. Paris said only that the boy reminded him of someone he had lost. And they believed him.

Paris's days were spent instructing the two boys. He thought them pretty helpless, very simple. On some evenings when the Equite gave a dinner he called Paris to join the party because he was more quick of tongue than the Roman noble. And the Roman could always take credit for things Paris said quietly at his ear. Some of the Romans looked upon him with disdain, either because he was just a Greek or because he looked to be a foreigner, but he'd been born in a Roman land to a man who had been granted Roman citizenship, so he should be treated like any Roman scholar, (which in actuality was not much better than servants were treated and so many of the local intelligencia were snobbish toward freedmen and servants just because they could be.) Paris though was a gifted speaker, and anyone who listened at all learned to forgive any other faults they might have noticed.

Paris spent nights planning lessons or writing his own observations of the world. On rare occasions The Noble had dinner with his wife and children. And more rarely they let Paris dine with them. And so it was only rarely that he had real occasion to speak to the noblewoman or her daughter. Though, he saw them in the house frequently.

The Noble's Wife like many women in Rome who had any money rose early to give orders to her servants, spent several hours at her toilet making herself up, then hid herself by cloak and veil to go out and shop for more clothing make-up and jewellery. She went out a lot. And her husband was naturally out every day trying to impress those with more influence and power. And so Paris was often left in the house with the four children and the many servants.

He befriended several of the maids easily, and the Major-domo was not so hard to make a friend of. And of course they constantly gossiped about the family they worked for and the goings on in Rome.

The Equite's daughter was dreaded by all the servants. She was an unruly child, drawing on the walls with chalks, singing loudly when guests were at the house. And she looked strange. Her eyes were blue. No one in her family had blue eyes, her mother's eyes were light, a muted greenish colour, but not blue as the girl's eyes were. And there was something weird about her hair, it looked almost greenish, and was either very oily looking or very frizzy and unmanageable. Some of the servants said she was mad.

Her mother never took her out of the house.

Paris thought her story intriguing but her mad.

When he'd been working in Rome for some time Lily came by when on business. She visited him at the house during the day, dressed as a young man. They sat in a room near the kitchens. The girl, whom everyone called Nymph and not any sort of proper name, was singing loudly to the cook about a girl who would never marry and who would be tied to a tree for the beasts to take. "I wish Psyche's luck on you then, dear one," Lily said to the girl. And the girl smiled.

Lily said that business went well. Nirari might turn his share of their company over to someone else soon, or sell it. Lily was hoping he would remember their friendship and give his share over to Paris so Lily could go on to manage the whole shipping company. Metro had taken to drinking laudanum now. Star was just sane enough to keep Metro from taking too much, though Metro then frightened the children, walking the house nights without the laudanum to put her to sleep. Star missed Paris terribly. He hardly touched boys anymore, mostly he just moaned about a lot. Or he had two particular maids come to his bed and kiss him and sing him to sleep. Lily was afraid these maids' babies were Star's.

Paris wouldn't go back. He was tolerating things well enough in Rome. It could only be a matter of time before he cheered up. And so Lily left.

But cheering up didn't come easily. Giving lessons to the boys seemed more pointless with every day. What was he teaching them for? Passing on his knowledge to them would not affect the world in any important or great way. At least when he'd taught Lily he was doing something different; he'd put a woman in charge of a business and she'd proved to be very good at it. Of course, people she did business with her believed they were dealing with a man.

One day Paris walked by some of Nymphs scrawls on a plaster wall and realised he was walking by letters. Nymph could write Latin letters. She could even spell words, MATER she wrote next to a figure robed in rose. Paris made a copy in ink of her scrawls. Whenever he saw them he copied them down and then he'd sit studying them.

And then noticing a scroll missing one evening Paris asked his old servant, Nika, if she had moved it. And Nika only gestured toward the window and the peristyle beyond. Paris looked out then, saw Nymph sitting at the side of the well rocking back and forth as she read a scroll by the dying sunlight.

Paris took Nika hand and held it a moment. And then he began speaking in Greek, knowing she would understand but the rest of the household probably would not. "It's a good thing, Nika, teaching the girl," he said.

"I teach no one, Teacher, when an old woman such as me teaches a girl like that it isn't about letters. I simply give what is needed where I can, that's all."

"Still, it was a good thing."

Paris came upon Nymph in the peristyle of the house; it was a hot day and he wanted to fetch some water from the well before going back to the afternoon session of lessons. Nymph sat by the well, black veil over her hair, dropping rocks into the water. She dropped and then she counted. "It's much easier to reach down to the waters level than to bring the water to yours throwing rocks in it," Paris said to her.

"They always fall in the same count," was all she said about it.

"Fetch me some water, Nymph."

"I'm not your servant!"

"It's hot and I'm asking for water. Fetch it."

And she lowered the jug into the well, pulled it up half full of water. She shoved it toward Paris. He lowered a hand into the jug and sipped the water up from his hand. "Tastes better than kitchen water," Nymph said, "better than wine. It's because the gods send it down from the sky."

"All water comes from the sky, Dear, it's just kitchen water comes through the ducts and pipes before you tastes it. It tastes like the pipes. Wine though, is an acquired taste. I don't suppose you've ever tried beer?"

"I don't think so, but if you forget the wine and pour the grape syrup in well water it tastes yummy."

"A child's drink no doubt. Beer is quite good. I've seen them brew it...in Egypt."

"Are you Egyptian?"

"Yes. Can't you tell?" Paris asked.

"Mother says you are, but I remember the stories about Cleopatra, she was pale."

"All the Ptolemies were Greeks, Nymph, not like the old Pharaohs. Yet, I should think we all have a certain Egyptianness."

She looked up then, seeming a little mad, "Well can you read the letters?"

"The glyphs? Just a few."

"I can't read any of them."

"But you can read, can't you?"

She was quiet. Looking down into the well.

"Ah, Nymph, I know you can read, and write letters, you're a very smart girl. How did you learn?"

"I taught myself," she said in a huff.

"Nymph, haven't you got a real name?"

"Ariella," she said.

"Shall I call you that?" Paris asked. He was looking at her eyes though they didn't look back. They definitely were blue.

"I like Nymph just fine, Teacher," she said. Paris made some move to leave. "Why don't you lighten your hair?" She asked.

"Why should I?" Paris asked.

"Well, all my mother's friends do it, they are all so in love with the Gauls. They all think the Gauls and Germans so barbaric, so very interesting to look at. They all lighten their black hair."

"Well if I were to start doing things as the Romans do I'd have to add a bit to my gut don't you think? Stuff myself and walk about in clothes one shade away from royal purple, paint my face white, spit curl my hair, wax my lips even. All these things to be Roman. Why, I'd look hideous."

Nymph laughed. She held her hands to her stomach and laughed hard.

Paris didn't think Nymph mad anymore. He thought her brilliant. In time it was only she who kept him from leaving the house. When Lily next came to visit she brought Star, but when she saw Paris looking so miserable she knew it wasn't her fault for bringing him, someone else had Paris upset.

Still however down Paris looked Star still tried to persuade him to come back, to come back to Athens just for his sake. He tried all night to get Paris alone anywhere with him. And when Paris wasn't really on guard Star would snake his arms about Paris and kiss his face. "Say my name," Star would say. "Say anything, my name, just say it." But Paris just shook his head. Star moved away from him slowly.

"I can't go back, Star, not ever again. I don't want you like I used to, I just don't want you." And Star backed away, shaking because he knew it was true.

Lily stepped up to the place Star shied from and spoke to Paris, calling him Brother. "What is it that keeps you there? How can you stay when you're so miserable?"

"It's that girl, Lily," Paris confided in her. "Lily, a girl."

And Lily understood. She laughed a little. "Well, I knew you had it in you, Little Brother, I knew it couldn't be all boys for you, not forever."

"She's not like any normal girl, Lily, she's like you, and yet, she isn't. I suppose I thought women had to be so different from men that you would naturally have to feel attraction toward one or the other. But it's not like that. I don't even gaze at well curved bodies the way Star did, I just wake up to the attraction after a while, wake and realise that I'm in love with a girl, and last it was a boy. I want to stay for her sake, Lily, I can't think about leaving her in that house of imbeciles."

And so Paris would go about his job as tutor, attend dinners, sometimes go shopping with one servant or another just to defeat boredom. And he'd spend any spare moment he could watching Nymph. It seemed Nika was the only one who noticed, and she was good at keeping secrets.

And Paris would watch other things, see the woman of the house get into carriages with men, see the maids slink into their master's bedchamber at night. See the brothers fight and quarrel and leer at the kitchen girls. And Paris would sit in the window listening to his heartbeat.

Nymph was getting good at writing now. She'd leave him notes. And if he wrote back she'd always manage to find the note among his things. But it was all so innocent with her, asking him a student's questions. For him it wasn't innocent at all.

It was killing Paris to stay in that house, and he was doing it for Ariella. Sixteen, he'd think to himself, they could marry her off, maybe not into a good family, but certainly they'd find someone. He and one of the maids had actually heard The Roman and his wife speaking about this. He wanted the daughter gone, but he thought her mad and impossible to get rid of. The Wife didn't want her gone for the same reasons but still she wanted her daughter married. Her daughter was very beautiful, she insisted, just let her have some time with her before any suitors were to arrive, she would make sure The Nymph looked well.

And so it happened that they did invite suitors over. The Nymph appeared in a blue dress shaped with gold broaches with sapphires in them so that she looked divinely thin and yet her breasts were shown at advantage. Her hair was blacker than usual, and very shiny, brushed into waves. She hadn't let her mother put the white paint on her face but her lips were reddened, her eyelids shadowed brown, her eyes lined in kohl, the eyebrows darkened to black, the eyelashes lengthened and blackened. As long as she did keep her mouth shut, even her father forgot that this was Nymph.

Ariella they introduced her as to this first suitor, a son of another Equite family who had been away from Rome for some time. They served him sweets and plenty of wine and spoke gossip. But then suddenly the beautiful girl opened her mouth and asked her suitor what the meaning of goodness was. He said something about tribute and being popular. "Well I think goodness is being free of oppressive feelings such as guilt, or envy," Nymph said.

The next suitor was even older, it seemed he might outright buy her from her father. Nymph got rid of him by laughing at him.

Before any other suitors came Paris received a letter from Lily. She said that Star was sick; he might die. Paris must come home. Not for anyone's sake but Lily's, there would be no man in the house, as much as Lily hated saying it, this would be a problem. Paris wanted to go to her, but also wanted to stay with Ariella. He sent word that he would leave Rome as soon as he was able and that Lily should "play the stupid woman" until he got there.

The third suitor was younger than the others, the son of an Equite family, his father now a very rich merchant. He was not very smart though, handsome enough, but sure to be his families ruin, he seemed more vain than most women. Nymph played up to this one, looking as stunning as she ever had, asked him to walk with her out near the well, but chose as a chaperone, Paris. Her father grabbed Paris' arm. "Don't you let her get rid of this one!" He hissed.

Paris felt trapped. Once the family was out of earshot Nymph spoke down to her suitor, asking him questions he would answer wrongly, then looking to Paris for the correct answer and rewarding him with her smiles. The suitor thought Paris one of her brothers, and he said so. When Paris told him who he really was the suitor became angry and left.

Nymph's father was furious. He came close to striking Paris. Paris stepped back and spoke quickly: "Sir, I am only an employee in your household, I have no rights here to force anything on your daughter, and I never would assume that place. Seeing the position I am in, I will be leaving your house. I would have to leave soon anyway. My uncle is dying, he is very ill now. I stand to inherit his large shipping company and will have no time for tutoring. I will not get involved in your domestic problems. That girl of yours obviously doesn't want to marry as normal women do, if I stay another day she'll be singing stories that I raped her just to make you all think she's ruined for marriage."

Paris knew that Nymph had heard this pack of lies. He heard her running through the hall. But he needed to say it. He saw the lies working on The Noble. This rich young merchant in his house, rich, yes, marry her off to a rich foreigner, Roman citizen that he was, he'd never have to look at the mad girl again. If he did have right he'd put the girl in her place, why not give him the right.

"Sir," said Paris slowly, "I inherit my uncle's estate because he was childless, I should be needing a wife. I do know how to disciple such unruly creatures as women are."

Paris saw the Roman smile. "You could take her out of my hands, the Coemtio, a civil ceremony, I would claim no right to her possessions once you were married. I'm sure she could make a suitable mother."

And continuing these lies Paris arranged it all with the Roman noble. They had their wedding performed, a civil service, and immediately after all the belongings that were Ariella's by right and everything that Paris owned in Rome were loaded onto a small sailing ship that Paris, in fact, already owned, and then Paris escorted his bride onto the ship and they left Rome.

b b b

The voyage to Athens by ship was never a short one. Even though she was his wife from the marriage on Paris gave the one small cabin on the ship to Ariella and slept below deck as did the captain. Of course he often visited Ariella in her cabin. Two servants were with her, Nika had been part of the price for marrying her, and Ariella had naturally taken her own maid from her father's house. Ariella cried a lot.

Her hair was looking that strange greenish gray colour again. It got paler as time went by. And only when she caught him staring at her hair did Ariella finally admit what had been done. "I have yellow hair, "she cried, "I have fair hair because..." and she sobbed so that she couldn't be understood for a while. "That man wasn't my father, but everyone had to think he was, so Mother dyed my hair black all the time."

"And who was your father?" Paris asked.

"He was one of the Gauls. He was a slave, and my mother paid money so that she could lie with him." And her sobs became even louder.

Paris tried to put his arms around her then, but she moved away from him.

b b b

Star was still hanging on to life when Paris brought his bride into his house, and yet everyone was already in mourning, wearing black and covering the looking glasses. It seemed strangely fitting that Ariella should be brought in this way, as she was not a happy bride. She still believed that Paris had meant the things she had heard him tell her father.

It was night when they arrived. Lily had made up a single bedroom for them. Ariella was horrified by that, Paris knew she was, yet she didn't show this to the others. Once inside the house she acted as if her marriage were a happy one for his family.

They went in to look at Star then. Lily was at one side, a jug of water and a small cup near her left hand in case Star asked for a drink. Metro was living there still and sat at Star's other side. He looked jaundiced and fevered and very thin. He was smoking opium for the pain. He looked about to die. And near his feet two small girls cried over him, one dark-skinned with hair in thick braids the other paler with loose very curly hair, but both looked a lot like each other and a lot like Star. We shall say that the two girls are named Phaeto and Merope.

He died that night, the night Paris came back and saw him. And for a long while after the house was in mourning but no one was really sad, except maybe Ariella. But her sadness was an imagined thing.

Paris didn't treat her in agreement with what he'd said to her father. He treated her well. When Ariella left the bedroom under pretence of getting a drink or something to eat, or to do everyone a favour by checking up on Metro he didn't complain. And no one said anything about her staying away from the bedroom long enough so that he could fall asleep. And when she woke before him and put a dress on hurriedly every morning he didn't scold her. When she fell asleep over the scrolls she was reading in the middle of the day no one gossiped about it. Lily helped her with her reading and writing and taught her numbers so that Ariella did not even rely on Paris for that. When someone in the house was going out to any store, or to go to the port and meet a ship, or just for a walk they might invite her to go. And even though other families might gossip no one in Paris' house cared what she wore or if she put her make up on, or what colour her hair was.

In fact, Metro had washed Ariella's hair vigorously, packed it with different mixtures of mud, soaked it in milk and honey, and finally used up many lemons and oranges to get enough juice to lighten Ariella's hair. And it had worked so that after the first days of waking about in the sun Ariella's hair was its natural gold for the first time in her life.

Ariella grew to trust Paris, and finally she found courage enough to ask him about what he'd said to her father. "I told him what he needed to hear in order to get you out of his house," Paris said.

"So, you lied."

"To get you out of there," Paris said.

"But you lied," she said plainly. "Did you pity me? Or did you want me for yourself?" Ariella asked.

"I want you," said Paris and Ariella moved away from him.

Several nights later Ariella left the bedroom as usual saying she wanted a drink of water, but this time she returned shortly, still sipping from a half full cup of water. Ariella knew Paris was watching her. She set the cup down beside the bed, climbed over him, rather more like a child than a lady, and sat up beside him. She touched his hands where they lay over his chest. She folded her legs under then and kneeling on the bed leaned forward to place a child's kiss on her husband's face. It must have seemed quite fast, very sudden when he kissed her, expertly grabbing her lips in his. She moved away saying, "Your tongue." But he said nothing. Paris just waited. And quite soon Ariella was leaning over him again and kissing his mouth very lightly.

But then to his surprise Ariella lay down on the floor and sobbed. So Paris asked her what was wrong.

"You can't understand; the very day I became a woman I promised I would never let myself become any man's wife, I wouldn't be treated as my Mother was, wouldn't be driven to lie with strangers and slaves. I made a vow-and you-I could do nothing to keep you away, I married you, still I never meant to live as with you as a wife does. That vow was a lie. But right now, it all means absolutely nothing."

"So, we have both lied. Love knows nothing of lies and false vows, Darling, and I love you, all I ask, all I need is that you trust me. You do trust me don't you?"

"Yes, more than any other man, more than most women."

"If it is a vow made to yourself, then it belongs to you, you may break it if you like."

"Is that what you want? That I should be a woman who takes vows lightly?" Ariella asked.

"I want that you should love me. Of course I understand that you might not, in that case I will live a sad but somewhat content life as your protector and most likely find a boy to kiss me as I lay down every night thinking of you. That's just how I am."

Ariella studied him curiously, not understanding how much of what he said was in jest. She said this was very Athenian of him. Paris just said, "You're beautiful. I want you."

And Ariella climbed back up into the bed and was taught by her husband to do what he wanted. And as things came to her she taught her husband to do as she wanted, and it worked rather well. Because he treated her so well and was not above waiting or not waiting according to her wishes Ariella was not afraid of Paris even though he was a much larger and stronger person than she. She was no longer ashamed to be naked in front of him and at times they might even bathe together.

And Ariella said, "Do not lie again. Lies are not good."

Others did seem to notice that she was no longer up at strange hours. If Ariella arose early any morning and went into the kitchen where the servants were beginning their chores they might smile politely at her. And if Ariella said, "Perhaps I might take my husband something to eat, he may be hungry when he wakes up and want breakfast," then Nika would give her a shiny gold apple.

And Ariella would creep back into the bedroom, dark still, having windows facing the courtyard and west. She might playfully climb on top of Paris and tickle him until he woke up. He would laugh and pull himself up, take the apple from her and a bite out of it, swallow fast and pull her close, kiss her, hold the apple to her mouth and watch her eat. Ariella might then lay against his chest as he ate and say, "It's so hard to multiply with Roman numbers."

Nirari decided only then to give over his share of the company to Paris. He was retiring from the shipping business and buying a farm somewhere in Syria, marrying a few wives. Paris and Lily made a deal between themselves then. Paris would take control of the work Nirari had been doing. He would move not to Tyre but to Alexandria and make a new base of operations there. Lily would retain control of the other half of the shipping, which legally belonged to Paris as well and remain in Athens. Several changes were made, so that although Paris' ships mainly traded with the eastern ports he would control the ships going to Rome, and to make things even Lily would be shipping to Black Sea ports. And of course their own ships would trade cargoes with each other either in Athens or Alexandria.

Nika and Ariella's maid travelled with them as well as some of the other employees that had been working for them in Athens. Things were difficult for a while, before things could be settled, but soon Paris had bought a small villa whose Roman owner was selling in a desperate need to raise cash. The port suited their business well. Paris hired some Egyptians to run small ships up the Nile to trade there and several small caravans to other African cities to trade so that they did not depend so heavily on the established traders, even as Lily was trading with the Norsemen, Gaul and other tribes that came to the Black Sea by river.

Paris also hired a Roman sculpture copier to teach Ariella to use sculptors' tools and to haggle with merchants for artist's supplies, as Ariella had told him she wanted to learn to make pieces of art like the old statues, especially like the figures made in Hind. She learned well and made her husband her favourite model.

Sometime after moving to Egypt Ariella became pregnant. Paris was just 22 then, Ariella was not quite 18. Of course, she went on taking lessons and sculpting, even going out to see the ships with Paris from time to time. Paris would not stop her.

When the time came for her to have the child midwives were brought in to help her. Some of them tried to shut Paris out of the room, but after he cursed them for being ignorant, and old Nika told them he had a wisdom most men didn't they let him into the birth room. They needed no help from him, and so Paris did nothing else but hold Ariella's hand.

It had been an easy birth, the women said, especially for a first delivery. Ariella and Paris had a son. Paris named him Athené in honour of the goddess, although he didn't believe in gods. However, they called him Athen, thinking it sounded a bit more masculine, and Roman. The woman still liked the name, because Athena is one of the virgin goddesses that spurned men, a goddess of wisdom and craftworks.

"This was the early life of Paris the Greco-Egyptian boy born a citizen of the Roman Empire under the sign of The Cross, as was his son 22 years later, lover of whores, women, the foreigner, the elderly, a scholar, philosopher, criminal, husband, father, disbeliever, liar, and teacher." Chris paused for a long while. "It was a life with dreams," he said.