Pelleus had not been looking forward to dinner with Agon. Chrysanthe had left that morning to see her relatives, though Hippolyta, who was supposed to accompany her, had taken ill – so she said – and had remained at home. She kept to her boudoir all day, convalescing, and thus Pelleus had the house almost to himself while Agon was out managing his estate.

  He wasn't quite sure why, but after Agon's recent behaviours, Pelleus expected some new oddity from his host once they were alone together. He thus drew up his courage as he approached the dining room that evening.

  Agon was dressed in sky-blue clothes, with gold bracelets and fastenings; his thinning hair was slicked back just as Marinus wore his hair. He greeted Pelleus with a smile. There was no one else around.

  "In the absence of mistress Chrysante and dear Hippolyta, I have given our staff the evening off. I am afraid we shall have to serve ourselves," Agon said chirpily, indicating the trays of food which had been left, buffet-style, for them to pick from.

  The man insisted on serving Pelleus himself, standing close at his side and piling up great quantities of everything there.

  "That's alright, I've had enough, thank you!" Pelleus protested. He glanced at his host, and was alarmed to see the man was wearing makeup – his eyes lined with some dark colour, and his cheeks powdered with lead white and rouge. It transformed his leer into something truly sinister, and sent Pelleus scuttling back to his seat at the far end of the table.

  Pelleus could barely stomach his food, though there was nothing lacking in it. A pregnant silence had settled over the pair of them as they sat either end of the table. Agon was drinking more than usual, and had a pitcher of wine close at hand, with which he kept refilling his glass. His face had gone quite red, despite the white paint he'd caked on it.

  "My dear Pusanella," he suddenly began, and Pelleus nearly jumped. "How do you find it, living with us? I hope everything is to your liking."

  "Very much, thank you, sir," Pelleus mumbled, forcing a morsel of lamb into his mouth.

  "Then I must ask," Agon went on, as if he had rehearsed his words, "how would you feel about becoming a permanent member of the household?"

  "As part of the staff, you mean?" Pelleus asked, but he knew that was not what Agon had in mind.

  "No, I am thinking of a role more intimate than that. You mean more to us – to certain of us – than any mere servant or ward. I can speak candidly for my own feelings, I-" he broke off, turning a deeper shade of red. "You must know by now how much I esteem, and... and admire you, Pusanella," he babbled. Pelleus's heart sank, but he felt there was no way to excuse himself just yet.

  "I have grown accustomed to having you around here, and certainly my esteem for you has blossomed, bearing the fruit of affection; yes, and love..."

  Love! Pelleus would have laughed if the situation were not so alarming. Poor, lonely, fool! he thought. He knows no better...

  "I own it is a strong way of putting it," Agon went on, as if he had read Pelleus's mind, "but, well... I can say no less, I must be true to my feelings. For I do love you, Pusanella. Oh, it is not a quick, hot-blooded passion; these feelings have come over me gradually, as our acquaintance has deepened these past few weeks."

  It was true: there was very little lust in Agon's feelings for Pelleus, for the simple reason that his physical nature revolted against the presence of a male object for its affections. But Agon was a mature man, and prone less to the tempests of the flesh than to a storm of higher, subtler passions. He had fallen for Pelleus's personality, and a great mind framed by a pretty face, that had kindled in his lonely heart memories of a misspent youth.

  For Pelleus there was nothing remotely approaching a reciprocation of these feelings. Nevertheless there was pity mingled with his dismay, as well as a hint of remorse. He had deceived Agon, after all.

  But the man was still speaking.

  "Please hear this – if you will consent to live with me, and return my love, then I place everything I have at your disposal."

  At last Pelleus had to interrupt; he could hold it in no longer.

  "Impossible!" he cried, rising to his feet and sending his glass crashing to the floor. "I cannot love you, Agon; please do not ask me to again!"

  And, picking up his skirts, he fled from the room with as much dignity as he could manage – leaving his host in dismay.

  Pelleus ran to the entrance hall and mounted the stairs, meaning to shut himself in his bedroom. But he saw a sight on the landing that stopped him in his tracks. Marinus was standing there, frozen with fear at the sight of him.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  At the same time Pelleus heard two things – a wretched wail from Hippolyta's room, and Agon's voice calling to him from the entrance hall.

  "You must go back down; distract him, while I escape!" Marinus hissed, thinking fast.

  "What are you doi- oh, alright!" Pelleus agreed, doubling back down the stairs.

  Agon's upturned face was glowing with hope as he beheld his beloved returning to him, but Pelleus pushed past him, heading for the courtyard.

  "I must have some air!" he said, fanning himself with one hand. "Will you not join me?"

  "With all my heart!"

  Agon sprang to with surprising alacrity, and led Pelleus by the arm to the courtyard.

  But as soon as they had reached the fountain, they heard a hubbub in the entrance hall. Pelleus guessed that Hippolyta had beaten Marinus to the front door and barred his way, for the blond youth came running into the loggia in his escape, with the mistress of the house hot on his heels.

  Pelleus just had time to draw the curtains on the courtyard-side before Hippolyta burst into the room, talking in a loud voice. Agon looked askance at Pelleus, and would have torn open the curtain again had he not overheard his wife's next remark. It struck him mute.

  "Marinus, stay! I must have you, I love only you..."

  "And I tell you it cannot be! Let go of my chiton, I beg you!" Marinus's voice cried out in exasperation.

  Pelleus heard Agon sinking to his knees beside him with a soft moan, and when he turned to look the man was clutching his head in his hands, inconsolable. While Hippolyta still clung to Marinus, raving on in her passionate delirium, Pelleus had an idea. He lifted up Agon gently by the arms, bringing him to his feet, and guided him back into the dining room to wait there. All resistance had gone out of the man – he was utterly defeated by this latest blow, and allowed himself to be steered away passively from the scene of betrayal.

  When he had sat him down, Pelleus ran back to the courtyard and wrenched the curtains apart with much theatricality, exposing the two in the loggia. Hippolyta started back, releasing Marinus in her shock, and cowered under Pelleus's indignant glare.

  "Caught red-handed! Do not try to deny it, mistress Hippolyta – I heard everything!" he said pitilessly. "Give me one good reason why I should not go straight to Agon and tell him of this infamy. Betrayed by his own wife..."

  To his surprise, Hippolyta offered no argument. Like her husband, she hung her head in shame, and this was a truly pitiful sight in so proud a woman. She had at least thrown a dressing gown over her negligée, and she drew it close around her body as if hoping to erase what she had already impressed upon her onlookers.

  "I have nothing to say for myself," she murmured. "I only ask your pity upon a fellow woman – a woman of frail flesh and blood, with a too-tender heart. For it is not for lack of love that I am reduced to this state."

  She sighed. "But I think you do not care to hear that, it is this that you want."

  She removed the diamond necklace from her neck, holding it glittering in the air before Pelleus. For a second his eyes flashed with a sudden desire, reflecting the priceless gems, but he thought better of it.

  "I fear you have already lost your honour, my lady, I will not deprive you of your pride and joy," he said, turning away.

  Marinus looked at him with mouth agape, standing as if frozen by the steps to the garden.

  "What, then? I beg you, do not tell my husband," Hippolyta went on. "Not for my sake, but for his. It would crush him to find his wife unfaithful to him."

  Pelleus felt a surge of anger at this – if she had only seen what misery her actions had already wrought in Agon – but again he mastered his feelings. He knew what he must do.

  "Just tell me this, and I will ask no more of you," he said.

  "Anything!" Hippolyta cried.

  "Where may I find Eustathios of Kithera; and who will tell me about him?" Pelleus asked.

  His heart sank as Hippolyta looked at him with utter confusion on her face, but a moment later she answered.

  "Calchas, the swineherd, will tell you all you need to know about Eustathios..." was all she said.

  Pelleus nodded slowly, and then, without another word, he rushed from the room. Moments later, the front door slammed behind him.

  Alone again together, Marinus and Hippolyta shot furtive looks at one another – then Marinus felt a breeze on his back from the garden, and he too ran away, melting into the dark outdoors like a shadow.