Chapter 1

Demetrius had reappeared from the house now, and was advancing over the tiled pavement on his way to the pergola. Lucia wondered what errand was bringing him. Presently he was standing before her, waiting for a signal to speak.

‘Yes, Demetrius?’ she drawled.

‘The Tribune,’ he announced, with dignity, ‘presents his good wishes for his sister’s health and happiness, and requests that he be permitted to join her at breakfast.’

Lucia brightened momentarily; then sobered, and replied, ‘Inform your master that his sister will be much pleased—and tell him,’ she added, in a tone somewhat less formal, ‘that breakfast will be served here in the pergola.’

After Demetrius had bowed deeply and was turning to go, Lucia sauntered past him and proceeded along the pavement for several yards. He followed her at a discreet distance. When they were out of earshot, she paused and confronted him.

‘How does he happen to be up so early?’ she asked, in a tone that was neither perpendicular nor oblique, but frankly horizontal. ‘Didn’t he go to the banquet?’

‘The Tribune attended the banquet,’ replied Demetrius, respectfully. ‘It is of that, perhaps, that he is impatient to speak.’

‘Now don’t tell me that he got into some sort of mess, Demetrius.’ She tried to invade his eyes, but the bridge was up.

‘If so,’ he replied, prudently, ‘the Tribune may wish to report it without the assistance of his slave. Shall I go now?’

‘You were there, of course, attending my brother,’ pursued Lucia. And when Demetrius bowed an affirmative, she asked, ‘Was Prince Gaius there?’ Demetrius bowed again, and she went on, uncertainly, ‘Did you—was he—had you an opportunity to notice whether the Prince was in good humor?’

‘Very,’ replied Demetrius—’until he went to sleep.’

‘Drunk?’ Lucia wrinkled her nose.

‘It is possible,’ deliberated Demetrius, ‘but it is not for me to say.’

‘Did the Prince seem friendly—toward my brother?’ persisted Lucia.

‘No more than usual.’ Demetrius shifted his weight and glanced toward the house.

Lucia sighed significantly, shook her black curls, and pouted.

‘You can be very trying sometimes, Demetrius.’

‘I know,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘May I go now? My master—’

‘By all means!’ snapped Lucia. ‘And swiftly!’ She turned and marched back with clipped steps to the pergola. Something had gone wrong last night, or Demetrius wouldn’t have taken that frozen attitude.