"Certainly he would. There is no doubt of that. And still the Myrmidons would have—"
"Not necessarily. You're well aware of the occasional arguments and quarrels between the Gods."
"I am," the High Priestess said, not without irony. "And it does not appear seemly that an ordinary mortal should mention—"
"I teach History," Forrester said. "I know of such quarrels. Especially between Athena and Aphrodite."
"And?"
"It's obvious. Since I'm an acolyte of Athena, it may be that Aphrodite wished to keep my arrest secret."
"I doubt it," the High Priestess said.
Forrester wished he could believe her. But his own theory looked uncomfortably plausible. "It certainly looks as if I'm right."
"Well—" For a second the High Priestess paled visibly, the freckles that went with her red hair standing out clearly on her face and giving her the disturbing appearance of an eleven-year-old. No eleven-year-old, however, Forrester reminded himself, had ever been built like the High Priestess.
Then she regained her color and laughed, all in an instant. "For a minute," she said in a light tone, "you almost convinced me of your forebodings. But there's nothing in them. There couldn't be."