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in so long.’ That was the truth. Lysandra was evidently in need and he felt no small measure of guilt that he had been so wrapped up in the affairs of the temple that he had not thought to visit her. She would not think to visit him, of course, but with Lysandra one had to accept that her friendship was unique to say the least.
    â€˜I will not be under your feet,’ she promised. ‘And I will pay you back the money you have loaned me, naturally.’
    She had told him the whole story of her attack and the loss of her funds. The physical evidence of that encounter were plain to see but, as she tipped back the wine, Telemachus realised that this was not the same austere gladiatrix that he had once known. ‘You need more water in that,’ he indicated the wine cup and at once noted the spark of anger in her eyes before she masked her gaze and complied.
    â€˜I have had a trying few days,’ she offered by way of excuse. ‘I just needed a drink or two to calm my nerves.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜What do you see?’ She looked up, anger once again in her eyes.
    Now, Telemachus knew, was not the time for constraint. He assumed an expression of hurt confusion. ‘Nothing… I… meant no offence,’ he said, marvelling at how contrite she instantly became.
    She was, he realised, as credulous as ever.
    â€˜I apologise for my rudeness, then.’ She bent her head and continued to eat.
    â€˜How are things at the Deiopolis ?’ he asked, changing the subject.
    Lysandra scooped up the last of the food and poured more wine.
    â€˜It goes well, though there is much work to be done. I have to double-check everything that goes through there else we would be fleeced blind by these Carian thieves.’
    Everything in that case would have to be triple-checked, Telemachus reasoned. Probably by Titus and Nikos: Lysandra had many talents but business acumen was hardly among them – though he very much doubted that anyone would have the guts or bad sense to tell her that. ‘It has become quite the attraction,’ he smiled. ‘You have done what you set out to do, haven’t you? As Gladiatrix Prima , you honoured Athene, and then as victrix you set up the finest temple to the Hellenic gods in Asia Minor.’
    â€˜Hellas!’ Lysandra raised her cup. ‘To Sparta and Athens!’
    â€˜Sparta and Athens,’ Telemachus toasted. ‘So, what next for Lysandra?’ he asked.
    Lysandra lapsed into silence for a time. ‘I do not know,’ she said at length. ‘I received an invitation to fight in Rome, but my fighting days are over. So many things have changed since we first met.’ She hesitated. ‘Telemachus… I have had a vision… but I made no sense of it. I think…’ she flushed with shame, ‘I think that it was Dionysus who sent it to me, not Athene.’
    This was as close to an admission that drink was her master as he was going to get. Telemachus knew her well – it would have been an excruciating decision for her to admit to it. ‘Tell me of the vision,’ he said.
    â€˜It was some time ago. I wrote it down, but have not had time to think about it much.’
    â€˜Tell me what you can recall. We Athenians are masters of interpretation, you know. After all, there’s an advocate in every one of us just bursting to break free.’ It was a small joke, like the ones they had so often shared in the past with each other, mocking their respective polis’ s foibles, and he was gratified to see her smile.
    â€˜I saw an eagle trampled by horses,’ she said. ‘And then a god that had a thousand faces and voices, roaring in terrible hunger, and a bloody fist, raised in victory. And I saw myself drowning – like before, during the storm that brought me here. Drowning in the wine-dark sea.’ She lifted her cup and drained it. ‘It seems that I drown overmuch these days.