Facing the sea, afternoon light on his face, he could be my old Alcaeus.
Thasos brought us wine.
And we worked still late, our lamps guttering in the wind, the air rough from the mainland, tasting of salt. Shutters groaned.
“To strike a balance between common sense and law, this is the cause to which we must pledge ourselves. Our local tyrants must go. They realize there isn’t enough corn. Poverty, we must grind against poverty. If our established life and prosperity can’t be made to serve, they, too, will go...”
Walking home, I was hardly aware that a gale had sprung up. Exekias, carrying my cloak, seemed surprised at my singing.
P
A note from Rhodopis—naturally, I was astonished. Her note concerned Kleis: could we talk together?
It was hard to order my thoughts. Rhodopis writing to me, especially with Charaxos gone...
I fixed an hour and we met at a discreet distance from the square, a bench in the rear of a small temple.
Despite the extravagant clothes, the careful makeup, how hard the eyes, the mouth. And I wondered how I looked to her, in my simple dress. But Rhodopis knows the sister of Charaxos is not naive.